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Kamino, the place that holds most of his memories with the Domino squad, is lost. Echo is standing on what’s left of its ruins and he wonders idly when life will become gentler, when it’ll stop taking and taking and taking from him. Then Crosshair announces that he has no intention of leaving with the Bad Batch, and he gets his answer.
Not today.
And it hurts so much, to take a different path from him, to climb onto the Havoc with the squad and to know he won’t follow. What makes it even worse is that, out of all the Bad Batch, Echo should be the one to understand best what Crosshair is going through. He knows how it feels, to be left behind by his brothers, at the mercy of people eager to tinker with his mind. He doesn’t resent the 501st for not going back for him then, because that would have only ended in even more death and suffering, but the pain of being left alone, cut from all the people he loves, with no hope of being rescued, is one he’s intimately familiar with.
The thing is that contrary to him, Crosshair maybe had hope, at one point. Hope that must have faltered with each day of them not trying to snatch him out from the grip of the Empire. And Echo hates himself, because he should have been the one to insist they go back for him, but there had been Omega to look after, with those bounty hunters tracking her, and then they had met Rex, who had told him about the fate of the 501st. About Jesse. About Fives.
A hitch gets caught in his throat, and he realizes that he can’t do this. He can’t just leave another of his brothers behind, with the risk that he might never see him alive again. For a second, he closes his eyes and imagines Droidbait, or Cutup, or Hevy or Fives on that platform in the middle of the raging kaminoan sea instead of Crosshair, and…
He’s jumping out of the Havoc before his mind can even register what his body is doing.
“I’m not leaving without you.” He announces, loud, his tone final.
Crosshair scoffs, his eyes sharp, clearly annoyed, but annoyed is better than being taken down by clankers, or eaten alive by an eel monster, or blown away in an explosion, or shot through the heart by another vod…
“I thought I made myself clear. I’m not joining you. The Empire...”
“The Empire murdered my batchmate!” Echo all but screams, his voice hoarse, raw, full of unshed tears, of unsaid goodbyes. Then he adds in a broken whisper: “They can’t take you too. I won’t let them.”
It’s the first time he talks of Fives’ death in front of the Bad Batch. Learning of it from Rex had been painful enough, and he didn’t have the strength to share it with anyone else, with people who would never know Fives like Echo had known him. Not until now. The words scratch their way out of his throat before he can stop them, and leave him a shivering mess, waiting for the recoil, waiting for Crosshair to ask why he should care about the fate of a reg.
Instead, the anger in the sniper’s stance and expression makes way for confusion, as if he’s physically shaken by the news. Echo thinks he hears the rest of his squad gasp and whisper among themselves, too, but this is already overwhelming enough and he can’t focus on everything at once.
“What? Wait, are you talking about Fives?”
This takes Echo aback, more than anything else Crosshair could have said. Because… Well, if he has to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t expect him to remember who Fives is. Sure, during his first days with the Bad Batch, Echo didn’t miss a chance to brag about his ARC trooper brother, but Crosshair never showed open interest towards his tales, so Echo assumed he didn’t listen or didn’t care.
Obviously, he assumed wrong.
“Yes. Fives, he was trying to save one of his vod and he found out about… about these kriffing chips in our heads, before… before they were activated. And they killed him for it, by order of the Chancellor, the Coruscant Guards, they…”
Echo tries to sound coherent, he really does, but it’s hard when tears are gathering in his eyes and his whole body is shaking. There’s a reason why he’s never brought up Fives’ death before. Speaking about it makes it more real, makes him realize that his brother is truly gone, that he’ll never hold him in his arms again, never hear him laugh again…
“You never mentioned that before.” Crosshair points out, and he sounds a tad suspicious, but mostly… shaken.
“Because I didn’t know!” He sobs, and it’s like a dam has been shattered somewhere inside him, letting all his emotions spill freely. “He was dead long before you rescued me at Skako Minor and I didn’t even know because…” Because the idea of Fives looking at his transformed, mishappen body and not recognizing him, or worse, seeing nothing but a monster, terrified him, and so he had delayed asking about his brother’s whereabouts, and oh how he regrets it now. “… Because I was too afraid and his death was kept as silent as possible by the man you now call Emperor and…”
The words slip out of his reach, and Echo tries to catch them, but he’s weighed down by his pain and grief. He wants to curse, because this is the moment where he needs to be convincing, or else he’ll lose Crosshair too, but it’s Fives who has always been good at talking, not him, and suddenly he finds himself stupid for even thinking he could make a difference. He clenches and unclenches his fist out of distress, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and if Fives was still here, it’s the moment he would tug him close, but he’s gone…
Echo shakes his head. That’s not how he should think. He shouldn’t focus on what has been lost, but on what can still be saved, because that’s how he survived this kriffing war. And maybe Fives will never hug him again, but Crosshair is still right here.
He doesn’t hesitate when he walks up to the sniper and wraps his arms around him. Crosshair chokes out in surprise, startled. He doesn’t hug back, but he doesn’t push him away either. He makes no sarcastic comment, no snapping remark, and Echo must admit that’s… not what he expected of him.
“I am not leaving without you.” He reaffirms, his tone soft but confident because he speaks the truth.
There’s no way he could walk out on Crosshair, not now, not when he’s so painfully aware of all the brothers he’ll never see again.
“The Imperials will be there soon. If they find you, you’ll be executed. You should leave.” Crosshair tries to reason with him, but there’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.
Time is playing against him, that’s something Echo can’t ignore. A part of him, the part that’s still terrified he’ll be captured again and experimented on, urges him to go back to the Havoc, to safety, but Echo gathers all of his strengths and ignores it. It’s dangerous, it’s reckless, it’s probably something Fives would have done, which only convinces Echo that it’s the right thing to do. Because the longer he stays, the more he takes risks, the more he proves without a doubt how much Crosshair matters to him.
“I already told you, I’m not going anywhere without you.”
He lightens his grip on the sniper, just so he can step back enough to look at him in the eyes, and… Oh. Crosshair is visibly holding back tears. Echo has never seen him lower his barriers down like that before, but it only furthers his determination. He can’t abandon him.
“Our little reg is right, we’re staying right where you are.”
A big hand pats his head, and Echo would be annoyed, if the comfort of Wrecker’s strong arms weren’t so welcome at the moment. The giant of the squad is squeezing them just a bit too tight, but Crosshair doesn’t complain, and that alone shows what kind of emotional turmoil he must be in.
“You’re still our brother, no matter what.” A small voice adds, and Echo smiles when he sees Omega has joined on the hug as well.
“Seeing as the efficiency of our team is reduced by 15% without you, I’ll have to agree that leaving you to your own endeavors would be quite an illogical choice.” And there’s Tech, putting a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder, unable to completely hide the tremor in his voice.
There’s only Hunter missing. The leader of their squad has left the Havoc to step on the platform too, but he looks unsure, far from the self-assured man Echo knows him to be. Still, he walks towards them, until he’s close enough to be sure Crosshair can’t be unaware of his presence. He doesn’t dare touch him, not like the other members of the squad have, but when he starts talking, there is the same certainty in his words.
“I’m sorry, for leaving you behind. I won’t do the same mistake twice, I promise.”
Echo is close enough to Crosshair to feel how he misses a breath at “sorry”, and when the sniper pointedly hides his face against his armor to hide his tears falling, he pretends to not see a thing. A second later, he starts wiggling to get out of their embrace.
“You morons better get back on our ship before we all get arrested for treason.” He seethes, but he can try to sound as mean as he wants, he’s not fooling anyone.
Crosshair doesn’t say that he’s coming with them, doesn’t admit that he’s part of their family again, but he climbs on board of the Havoc with them anyway, and that’s all that matters. Echo can work with that. He can work with the wariness that Crosshair still hasn’t shaken off, with the glances he sends Hunter’s way that clearly mean “I still haven’t forgiven you.”
They’re all together, and they’re all alive. Figuring out the rest will just be a matter of time.
Mending their broken bonds is hard, because, as much as Echo hates to admit it, they have learned to function without Crosshair. A few times, he catches the sniper looking sad and disappointed because of tiny details, things that have changed while he was gone, habits they have taken that he isn’t used to.
Still, they all try to make him feel welcome, each in their own way. Whenever Crosshair seems upset, Lula will mysteriously end up in his bunk, and even if Wrecker will swear that he didn’t put her there, absolutely not, they all know. Just like they know Tech didn’t miraculously stumble on exactly the right pieces to improve his rifle, no matter how much he claims it was pure luck. Day after day, they multiply the little gestures, to show him that he belongs with them.
Crosshair makes efforts to fit in, too. He tries to understand their views, even if they don’t always agree on everything. The way he talks of the Empire has changed, though, ever since he’s learned about Fives, and for that, Echo is thankful. As a result, Echo is less hesitant to confide in him, to share little details of his life in the 501st, because it’s now obvious to him that Crosshair listens and cares, even if the sniper pretends not to.
He is proven once again that Crosshair does love their family more than he lets on, when he walks on him repainting his armor to the color of the Bad Batch. For a few seconds, he holds his gaze, as if daring Echo to say anything, but then relaxes when it becomes clear he won’t comment on it. There’s still more black on the plastron and the helmet than not, but it looks… better. Less impersonal.
And then, when it looks almost done, Crosshair suddenly stops painting and plays with his toothpick instead, something clearly on his mind.
“Come here reg, I need your help with something.”
Out of principle, Echo rolls his eyes at the nickname, but by now he knows it to be more affectionate than anything else, so he just shrugs and goes join Crosshair.
“Sure, what can I do?”
The sniper doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips his whole hand in silver paint, and lays it on the right side of Echo’s chest, a satisfied smirk on his lips.
“Your armor was missing a little something. Thought I’d fix it.” He explains with a grin as he removes his fingers.
Echo can’t help but stare at the handprint left behind, familiar and yet foreign. His mind automatically goes back to Rishi’s Moon, to the shiny he once was, and his heart aches at all he’s lost ever since, but those memories are still dear to him, regardless. And now… Now that mark is also a symbol of his new life, of everything he has managed to save, and he finds he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“You’re right, thank you.” He smiles, and means it with all his heart.