Work Text:
"I wrote a letter when no one was looking. Typed it up on my datapad when I should have been recording the serial numbers on medicine vials. I knew I could never send it, that they'd never read it, but it felt good anyway, as if they would know I was alright. It's long since deleted now, but I remember how it went."
Dear Hunter and Wrecker and Echo,
I've been here for almost three standard weeks now, according to the tally marks. I promise I'm not getting impatient, it's just...suppose it is a very long time? Suppose I get out of here on my own and I don't know how long I've been here? Or where in the galaxy to find you?
I'm working on it, alright?
I'm not allowed outside, but I try to keep training like you'd want me to. I have to stay ready for anything. Last night, I did push-ups in my room until my arms gave out. I got to thirty-five.
The food isn't so bad. No worse than Kamino. When I first got here, I was so angry that I tried to go on a hunger strike, but that doesn't work with just one person. I'm still angry, but if you were here, you'd tell me that's not worth starving myself, and I need to keep up my strength. So I eat. I'm lucky in that way. The other prisoners, the other clones—I don't think they get enough food.
(I know. I'm worried about him too. I saw him from a distance for the first time yesterday. He looked sad. I'm trying to find out where they're holding him.)
I'm not in any immediate danger, I think. They run tests on me sometimes—mostly blood tests, nothing super hard or painful. Still, I try to be as uncooperative as possible. So far, I've driven several doctors up the wall and out the door. I think I'm safe for the moment, but, Hunter, it's scary anyway. No one has called me by my name since I arrived. I think...I think I'm disappearing. Suppose someday I forget what day it is, then my name, then everything else about myself? What if I forget all of you?
That's not going to happen.
That's not going to happen because I'm coming home. All of us are coming home. I just know it.
And until then?
Until then, I'll hold on.
I've waited years for my family. They won't keep us apart again.
Still waiting, Omega