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It started with nail polish.
Omega found some cheap bottles of the stuff while they were out buying supplies, and no one had the heart to tell her no. Immediately after arriving back at the Marauder, she got to work. With careful brushstrokes, she painted the nails on one of her hands a bright orange, and the other aqua blue. Both got a generous coat of glitter on top.
Then Wrecker asked for her to do his nails—red, also with glitter—and he managed to rope everyone else in, as well. Hunter’s were black, Tech’s a shiny silver. Echo was next.
“What color do you want?” Omega smiled, sitting on the floor, surrounded by an array of nail polish bottles. Echo picked up one of the glitter top coats, admiring how the pieces inside flashed when they caught the light.
“I like this one,” he said.
“It would look better if we put a solid color underneath it,” Omega explained. “I put that one over my nails and Wrecker’s nails. I think it looks really good with the blue.”
She held out her hand towards Echo, and with the blue as a backdrop, it looked much different than it did on its own in the bottle. Much better, for sure. “I like the blue.”
Omega’s eyes lit up. “We’ll match!” She exclaimed.
She gently took Echo’s left hand in one of her own. Scrunching up her face in concentration, she painted on the blue polish. It felt a little cold, and weird, but Echo found he liked how it looked.
They sat for a while and watched a holo while the blue polish dried, and then Omega painted on the glitter. Echo held his hand away from his face, watching the glitter catch the light, eyes wide as satellites.
“Do you like it?” Omega asked.
“Yeah,” Echo replied, quiet.
And he did like it. He really, really did. There was something about it that felt right; something warm and fuzzy taking up residence right in the middle of his chest.
Omega smiled up at him, something knowing in her eyes. “I’m glad.”
Ever since the rightness that had settled in his chest when Omega painted his nails, Echo realized just how wrong everything else felt. Nothing about him felt quite right in the same way the nail polish did. It was a frightening mystery.
It didn’t feel like he was broken, like he had after the explosion at the Citadel. It felt more like he’d suddenly realized he’d never been built right in the first place.
How to construct himself correctly, he didn’t know, but apparently, nail polish was a start.
“Omega, can I ask you a weird question?”
Omega tilted her head, slightly startled by the anxious look on her oldest brother’s face. “What is it, Echo?”
Echo steeled himself and took a breath. “How did you…figure out you’re a girl?”
“Hm,” Omega said, taking a moment to think it over. “It’s hard to explain. I just kind of knew.”
“Oh.”
“I guess it was hard at first, because when I was little I’d never met a real girl before, other than Nala Se. But the Kaminoans don’t really do gender things the same way, so it hardly counted. I remember I saw some girls on a holo, and I really wanted to be like them,” Omega continued. “And then I started being like them. And now I’m a girl. The end.”
“It’s that easy, huh?”
“It was easy for me. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for everyone,” Omega said. “And it was probably easier since I figured it out when I was so little.”
“Hm.” Echo crossed his arms, looking a little self conscious. Omega eyed him curiously. “You’re a smart kid, y’know? Thanks.”
Echo couldn’t sleep.
He’d had plenty of siblings in the 501st who weren’t brothers. A few sisters, a few who weren’t brothers or sisters.
He’d always supported them with his whole heart, but he wasn’t like them.
He’d always been fine with being a man. There was no reason not to be.
It was just nail polish. It didn’t have to be so deep. Men wore nail polish all the time. Wrecker’s was even sparkly, and he was possibly the most masculine man Echo’d ever met.
Echo wasn’t sure, however, that other men thought this hard about it. Or doubted themselves this much. Or felt like they’d been built wrong. Or felt such a sense of…of euphoria from something as simple as painted nails.
It was all a little overwhelming.
Echo needed to sleep.
The next time they went on a supply run, Omega dragged Echo away from the others. He wasn’t sure why, until she dragged him down a street with clothing stores, and pointed at a mannequin in a window sporting a blue dress with flowers on it.
“Look at that! Isn’t it pretty?” She asked, her eyes sparkling brighter than the nail polish.
“Yeah,” Echo said, “it is. Looks a little big for you, though.”
“Hm. Yeah,” Omega mused. She looked at the dress, and then to Echo, and then back at the dress. “It might fit you, though.”
Oh, you sly girl, Echo thought. She’d picked up on his struggles, hadn’t she? Was this her way of helping? Or perhaps subtly voicing her approval?
“It might,” Echo agreed. “I don’t think we have credits to spare for nice clothes, though.”
“We don’t have to buy it! You could just go in and try it on,” Omega said. Echo looked down at her, skepticism in his glance. “C’mon, please? For me? I want to see how it looks!”
Echo sighed, and relented.
Standing in the dressing room, dress hung on a hook, mirror in front of him, Echo had never felt more anxious.
Echo was a soldier. He’d been in a war. He’d survived being blown up, being turned into a machine and experimented on; the end of a war, the rise of an Empire. But a blue dress with flowers on it? No, that was too much for him to handle, apparently.
He didn’t think it would look quite right on him, anyway. Even masculine civilian clothes didn’t always, not with his prosthetics. He’d surely just look silly in the dress. He had the wrong body for it, in more ways than one.
Why did that train of thought make him so sad all of a sudden?
As to not keep Omega, or the others, waiting, Echo took a deep breath, shook out his nerves, and put on the dress.
Something clicked into place.
Echo stepped out of the fitting room to show Omega. She jumped up and clapped her hands excitedly, like Echo in a dress was the coolest thing in the whole galaxy. “You look so pretty!”
“Do I?” Echo mumbled, sheepish.
“Yes!” Omega exclaimed.
“Oh.”
Echo stood for a moment, turning to look back in the fitting room’s mirror. He didn’t think he looked all that pretty, but there was something right about it.
On the other side of the store, a small alien child tugged on her mother’s wrist. “Mama, look at that lady, she’s got a droid arm!”
And usually, such comments would bother Echo. It wasn’t a droid arm, it was a human prosthetic. But something else about the comment struck him like nothing else ever had.
Lady. She!
Why wasn’t that bothering him? Echo wasn’t a girl.
Echo wasn’t a girl!
Echo…wasn’t…
Something inside Echo’s soul shattered. Split into a million pieces. He…she?…scrambled to put it back together, standing still as a statue, staring at his…her?…reflection. But it was too late. The cracks were irreparable. He…she?…couldn’t think, couldn’t…
He went back inside the fitting room, removed the dress, thanked the store attendant, and hardly spoke for the rest of the day.
“Echo?”
Hunter approached quietly and spoke softly. Echo got like this sometimes; it wasn’t unusual or something to be overly concerned about. He’d been through a lot. Staring at the wall for an hour was probably one of the better case scenarios.
“Echo, are you alright? Do you need anything?”
Echo responded without taking his eyes off the wall. “I think I’m a girl.”
“What?” Hunter blinked.
Echo looked at him, eyes a little wide. “I just, um…”
“No, no, it’s okay, I’m sorry I…” Hunter interrupted. “That’s not at all what I was expecting you to say.”
“To be honest, that’s not really what I expected to say, either.” Echo looked back at the wall. “I…I had this whole speech planned in my head. I was going to tell everyone at once. But I was thinking about it too much, and I just…got nervous.”
“It’s alright,” Hunter said, trying to catch Echo’s gaze. He…she?...chewed at their bottom lip, looking more frightened than a child staring down a full-grown rancor, and all Hunter wanted to do was wipe away all that anxiety like magic and hope it never returned.
Hunter couldn’t stop Echo’s nightmares, flashbacks, or dissociative episodes; nor could he fix Echo’s body, or bring back long-dead siblings; but he could do plenty of good right here, right now. “Hey. Echo? It’s alright. I promise. You can be whoever you want, and we’ll support you. Do you still want to be called Echo? Should I start using different pronouns for you?”
Echo glanced at Hunter with a small smile. “I still like Echo. I think it fits me just fine. As for pronouns, it’s a big step, but I…I like the idea of being she and her. It makes me nervous, but not necessarily in a bad way, if that makes sense?”
“It’s like going on a mission,” Hunter started, “when deep down, you know everything will go alright, even though there’s always variables that might crop up. But you can work around those variables if they do cause problems. And hey, this is a little bit lower-stakes than a mission, yeah?”
Echo laughed. “Yeah. Thank you, Hunter. This has been bothering me for a while.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“Now I have to tell everyone else, huh?” Despite herself, Echo was smiling. She looked at Hunter, her eyes a little shiny, blinking a bit faster than normal. Overwhelmed, Hunter supposed. “I think Omega already figured it out, to be honest. Oh, stars, I’ll have to tell Rex too, won’t I? Whenever we see him again.”
“Take things at your own pace,” Hunter reassured.
“I…I want to tell everyone now. I’ll freak out if I don’t. I might overthink it, you know? I, um…”
“C’mon.” Hunter motioned for Echo to join him. “Let’s go. I’ll be right beside you.”
It wasn’t nearly as difficult the second time around.
“I’ll be sure to change your pronouns in all my databases,” Tech assured. He smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
Wrecker crossed his arms, body language stern, but face lighthearted. “And if anyone’s mean to you, I’ll blow ‘em up!”
Omega smiled as big as a crescent moon. “I get to have a sister now!”
And Hunter was no telepath, but the air around Echo felt lighter, and happier, and right.