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It was supposed to be an easy job. Minimal security. Rex’s contact had spoken of several clones on this prison transport, as well as some rebel sympathizers - nothing the Empire would extend a lot of resources on but couldn’t exactly let run around the galaxy unattended either.
Freeing the prisoners was easy enough. The stormtroopers assigned to this transport were clumsy and not equipped to deal with two veteran clones like Rex and Echo, who had both a plan and the experience to execute it. What they didn’t expect was the single stormtrooper who seemed to have paid attention during training.
Rex runs his fingers over the red streaks along the wall leading up to the cockpit while Echo is crouched in front of the control panel. “You nicked him,” Rex ascertains.
Echo nods and scoffs as he rotates his scomp in the port, trying to unlock the door. “That armor is a joke.”
Rex hums in agreement. The remaining stormtrooper has him worried. He’s locked himself in the cockpit and if they don’t get in there soon he is going to call for backup - if he hasn’t already. Rex is still a bit fuzzy on how they missed this guy in the first place. They secured the guards, plus the two pilots in a cell. This guy, however, managed to escape their attention entirely until they caught him in the hallway halfway to the emergency pods. Neither Rex nor Echo wasted any time and tried to bring him down but it turned out to be rather difficult.
The stormtrooper gave them a run for their money, even managed to damage Rex’s helmet with a blaster shot that would have given him an additional hole to breathe out of if Echo hadn’t pulled him out of the line of fire at the last moment. Rex is glad that he opted out of wearing his beloved 501st armor for this mission. He would have hated to have to throw away his old helmet. Discarding this shoddy one was no bother.
Rex checks the chrono on his vambrace. Almost two minutes since the stormtrooper closed the door in their faces. “Any luck?”
Echo grunts. “He keeps scrambling the code from the other side.”
“Huh,” Rex raises his eyebrows in surprise, “I didn’t know they taught stormtroopers how to do that.”
“They don’t,” Echo says through gritted teeth. His shoulders are tense so Rex reaches down and gently rubs the crook of Echo’s neck. He relaxes somewhat yet the speed at which his scomp rotates increases. “Almost got it. Get ready.”
Rex pulls out his blasters and points them at the door. He doesn’t particularly enjoy shooting stormtroopers. For a long time he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t a brother under that bucket. These days it’s become less of a concern. The Empire is discarding clones left and right - if they’re not fleeing of their own accord. Chances of encountering a brother in that stormtrooper armor are in the single digits by now. They are not none though so, Rex aims low.
The door slides open with a start and Rex fires. He catches a glimpse of a pair of legs disappearing behind the co-pilot’s seat. Rex ducks just in time when a blaster comes up and showers the hallway with plasma.
“He’s going to run out of ammo eventually,” Echo muses, pressed against the wall beside Rex.
Rex checks the charge on his blasters and winces. “Not just him.”
Echo reaches behind his back and hands him a fully charged cartridge. Even with the bucket Rex can tell that he’s smiling. “You know I only need one.”
Rex scoffs but accepts the additional supply. He doesn’t like it when Echo makes light of his injuries but he realized early on that it was Echo’s way of dealing with it. Most of the time it takes a bit for people to catch on because Echo can be terribly deadpan about it. But he once told Rex that ’If you can joke about it, it can’t be that bad’. It’s a very Fives outlook on life, come to think of it.
“We just need to keep him away from the comms.” Rex leans forward carefully to peek into the cockpit. He expected to see a set of hands frantically searching for the emergency comms channel but the stormtrooper is hunkered down behind the co-pilot’s chair, not showing even the tiniest bit of himself.
Rex’s brow furrows. “Or not.” He leans back and at the questioning tilt of Echo’s head adds, “He’s not going for the comms.”
“He’s probably scared you’ll blow his head off.”
“That would make him smarter than the average stormtrooper,” Rex concedes.
Echo shrugs. “Statistically, they’re bound to have some with a brain cell.”
Rex inclines his head and squints. “Maybe we can appeal to it then.” He slides his blasters across the floor before Echo can stop him. “Trooper? Let’s talk!”
Echo slaps his arm and shakes his head. Rex shushes him and holds out his hands so the stormtrooper can see he’s unarmed. He’s not terribly worried since he’s got Echo, who is still very much armed.
“Truce?” Rex offers once more. The stormtrooper doesn’t say a word so Rex goes on, “Come on, trooper, you don’t want to die here, do you?”
Something clatters to the floor inside the cockpit. It sounds like a blaster but it could be a ruse so Rex is cautious when he cranes his neck to look. He flinches when he sees the stormtrooper scramble up from behind the chair. He comes to stand in the middle of the cockpit, not moving a muscle, just–... staring. The nondescript white bucket betrays nothing of the stormtrooper's intentions but he’s not shooting so he must be interested in what Rex has to say.
Rex slowly gets up, signalling Echo to stand down. The stormtrooper’s stance is shaky; he’s not even trying to mask it. A small trail of blood is marking the pristine white of his right leg armor. It’s not a critical injury but the stormtrooper’s breathing is rapid as if he’s afraid of dying.
“We, uh, can help with that,” Rex points at the wound, “if you’d like that.”
Rex thought the stormtrooper might want to downplay it or pretend he doesn’t need help but he did not expect the guy to let out a sob and–
“Rex?”
Rex’s arms drop to his sides. That’s a brother’s voice, broken as it is, but unmistakable. He nods. Not many vode left in the Empire who might know him. The stormtrooper heaves a shuddering sigh and unseals his helmet. Rex is not ready for the face he sees when it comes off.
“Fi–... Fives?” It’s barely more than a whisper, coming from Echo by his side. Neither of them move.
“Wait a minute now.” The guy’s brow furrows in confusion as he leans forward. “That’s not–... You can’t be–... Echo? That you under there?” The stormtrooper gapes at them and it seems so genuinely surprised that Rex is almost inclined to believe him. He looks so much like Fives, Rex is about to lose his mind. His hair is long and in disarray, sweaty, and sticking to his forehead. But there’s the tattoo. Old, and slightly faded around the edges but as distinctive as ever.
Rex is still rooted to the spot, not even sure if he’s taken a single breath in the last minute, while Echo takes a step forward, however hesitant. Echo pulls off his helmet and it clatters to the floor. Rex wants to stop him from venturing further into the cockpit but he’s unable to move. He’s still transfixed by the person claiming to be Fives.
Fives, who died in his arms; who uncovered a plot so heinous it changed the entire galaxy forever and cost him his life. Fives, who has a twin that never got to say goodbye.
Echo only ever heard the story of Fives’ death from Rex, who was absolutely sure that Fives was dead. He remembers the soft whiff of Fives’ last breath on his face. He couldn’t have been that wrong.
Rex’s instincts kick in. He goes for Echo’s blaster, this time aiming for center mass.
“Who are you?” Rex barks.
“Rex,” Echo yelps, “what are you–”
“This isn’t Fives. It can’t be,” Rex insists. Meanwhile, ’Fives’ is giving Rex a shocked look, almost hurt.
He holds up his hands and takes a step towards them but Rex warns him by adjusting his aim. “Rex, it’s me. Fives. I know this is hard to believe–”
“You’re right,” Rex agrees, “it is hard to believe. I don’t know what you’re planning or why you’re here or why the hells you’re impersonating Fives, of all people, but I’m not falling for it. What’s the Empire up to now?”
“I’m as much with the Empire as you are,” the Fives lookalike snarls. He gestures at Echo, desperate. “Come on, buddy, you believe me, right? It’s me.”
“Fives is dead,” Rex nearly shouts, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t have made such a monumental mistake. He would have never left Fives’ side if he’d been alive. He wasn’t. It took Rex so long to make peace with Fives’ death and now this.
Stormtrooper Fives eyes them both for a long time, sounding baffled when he says, “Looks like none of us are very good at dying.”
“But you were dead!” Rex screams. He doesn’t know why he is saying it louder now. As if that would erase the tattoo on the guy’s head or the way he’s cocky - just like Fives. Rex closes the space between them in swift strides, blaster at the ready and almost knocking into the guy’s cuirass. Maybe-Fives doesn’t budge though. He just holds up his hands in surrender and gives Rex a lopsided smile.
“You’re right. I was dead. For three minutes and forty-three seconds.” He shrugs. “At least, that’s what the med droid said that revived me.”
“No!” Rex persists, the barrel of his blaster slipping against the white plastoid of the armor. “No, you were–... I held you. I–... You weren’t breathing. I wanted you to but you didn’t. I–”
He can barely see Fives’ face through the sheen of tears. It feels like his smile is soft though. “I know,” Fives says quietly while his hand settles on top of Rex’s blaster, “I’m glad you were there.” He nods his chin at Rex. “And I’m glad you believed me.”
Rex doesn’t resist when Fives pushes the blaster out of the way. Somebody takes it from his hand but it barely registers. They’re so close now Rex can make out the subtle changes in Fives’ face from the last time they saw each other. The lines around his eyes are a little more pronounced, his goatee is messy and fading into the rest of a week’s worth of stubble. There is a good amount of gray in his beard now, which he must hate. It’s beginning to seep into his hairline too. But his smile… it’s still the same. A little crooked, entirely too charming, and a little too clever for his own good.
“I see you got the chip out,” Fives says, tapping the side of his head. “That’s good. What about you?”
Rex didn’t even notice Echo, his presence now slowly tugging at Rex’s consciousness. He stands next to Rex, eyes wide and roaming over Fives’ face. Echo shakes his head. “Can’t,” he croaks.
Fives’ gaze travels to the ports in Echo’s head. He grimaces and makes a vague gesture. “Is it because of the–”
Echo nods and for the first time in a long time he seems embarrassed about the obvious signs of the torture he’s had to endure. He turns his head away but Fives catches his chin, beckoning him to look up. Rex moves to swat Fives’ hand away but Echo stops him with a gentle tap on his arm.
“What the kriff happened?” Fives implores. It’s only now that he seems to be taking in all the changes on Echo, most of which are obscured by his armor. Rex may not like it when Echo is abrasive about his modifications but he also doesn’t want to see him sad. He gets ready to step in and explain in Echo’s stead but then Echo lurches forward. He flings his arms around Fives and nearly takes them both down. They stumble into the back of the co-pilot’s chair as Fives laughs and Echo’s sobs pour into the crook of Fives’ neck.
If Rex needed any more assurance that this is indeed Fives, this would be it. Echo wouldn’t do this with anyone who isn’t Fives. Hells, even though they’ve been intimate on more than one occasion and are practically living inside each other’s pockets these days, Echo rarely initiates physical contact with Rex. Getting tackled with a hug is still a Fives only privilege.
Slowly, Rex feels himself relax. He watches as the two of them slide to the floor, crying and giggling and whatever comes in between. This is Fives. Fives, who was dead but came back to life; who somehow turned up on an Imperial prison transport disguised as a stormtrooper. That’s probably something they should talk about.
Later. Echo falls to the side, still clinging to Fives’ neck, and Fives waves Rex over.
“You wanna get in on this, captain?” Fives spreads his free arm in an inviting gesture.
Rex laughs. He means to decline, let them have their moment, but before he can open his mouth he’s already on his knees and slumped against Fives’ shoulder. He’s so warm and his grip on Rex’s back is tight - not at all fleeting and weak like the last time they were together. Relief blooms in Rex’s chest to the point where his ribcage might burst from the sheer magnitude of it.
Fives hisses and Rex remembers he’s got a bum leg. “Oh kriff, I’m sorry. Let me just–,” he tries to extract himself from the hug and get a look at the wound but Fives won’t let him.
“It’s okay. I’ve had worse.” Fives pulls him closer and Rex can’t contain the laughter that’s bubbling up in his chest. Tears come along with it so he’s not entirely sure if he’s laughing or crying. It seems irrelevant. He arranges himself around Fives’ injury and blindly grabs for Echo. They find each other’s hands over Fives’ chest and Rex lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
Force knows how long they stay like this before Fives stirs. “Okay,” he groans and finally lets Rex up, “maybe I’d like to take you up on your offer now.”
Rex inspects the damage. With the armor in the way he can’t tell how deep the wound goes but he suspects it’s little more than a scratch.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Echo chastises Fives while they help him up.
“I tried,” Fives whines, “but you started blasting before I could get a word out. I didn’t recognize you in this getup. I thought you two were rebels, and I was wearing stormtrooper gear. You didn’t look like you were up for a chat.”
“Why are you wearing stormtrooper armor, by the way?” Rex inquires.
Fives hops on one leg, with his arms around their shoulders. “I was residing in cell fourteen, if you must know.”
Echo stops dead, causing the rest of them to stutter to a halt. “You were breaking out?”
Fives laughs out loud. “I was. Right when you were breaking in. Funny how that worked out, huh?”