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Fives and Echo.
Echo and Fives.
Now, it’s just Echo.
Echo.
Echo.
Echo.
“Echo,” Rex says, sitting down next to him, “How are you doing?”
Awful, terrible. Everything hurts, soul deep to the surface of my skin. Even my missing limbs ache, and they aren’t even here anymore. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense…
“Better,” Echo says. He smiles, because if he doesn’t he’ll cry. He holds up his arms, the sleeves of the shirt he borrowed from the big clone – Wrecker? – far too long and drooping at the ends. “Although, I feel like a cadet in these.”
Rex chuckles. “We’ll be able to find you something with a better fit once we’re back to the base.”
It’s supposed to make him feel better. He knows it is. He knows. He knows. But the thought of trying to find something that will fit him, the way he is now instead of the way he was…there’s no comfort in it. He’s lost the muscle mass he’d gained, and he’s gained cold metal where he lost his limbs.
No, he has to change the subject before he spirals to depths he won’t be able to climb out of.
Echo glances at Wrecker, snoring loudly in a crash seat across from the pull down cot he’s sitting on (they had tried to get him to lay down, to rest, but closing his eyes is the last thing he wants to do, the glare of ones and zeroes still seared to the inside of his eyelids). “Tell me about them. What’s their story?”
Rex follows his eyeline. “Clone Force 99? I don’t know much about them myself. Cody called them in. As capable as they are insane, that lot.”
“I assure you, insanity has nothing to do with it,” Tech says, coming into the hold, eyes trained on his data pad. “To properly answer your question, Echo, we are an elite squad of clones developed to have desirable mutations. Therefore, we are uniquely qualified for high risk missions given our advanced skill set.”
Rex sighs. “That’s exactly what I was going to say,” he mutters to Echo.
“Liar,” Echo murmurs back.
The attempt to lighten the mood almost works, and Echo pretends it does. Because, if he pretends long enough, that he’s fine, that everything will be fine, he’ll start to believe it. Because this is his new reality. A world separated by then and now, connected by a bridge long since burned that he can’t cross back over. And he will be fine. He isn’t dead.
Fives is dead.
Rex didn’t have to tell him, Echo didn’t have to ask.
But Echo will be fine. He’s already decided.
What’s two missing legs and an arm? What’s internal organs replaced and spliced with cybernetics? What’s a brother lost forever, his last word to you, your own name?
Rex bumps him with his shoulder, and Echo bumps him back.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, voice so soft it is almost just an exhale, answering the unspoken, reiterated question.
But what if I’m not?