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You’d been a member of the “bad batch” for a hair longer than Omega had, a clone, just like them. As well as a necessary precaution to assist any in-field injuries that the batch may take while in the war so they wouldn’t be as big of a risk to die, and more of a risk to death’s workday. Especially since their enhancements gave each of them different conditions: Hunter is prone to overstimulation and commonly shut down when not focused on a task. Wrecker’s enhanced strength came with muscle fatigue and higher pain tolerance, which made finding injuries harder. Tech frequently experienced migraines, some of which had him vomiting or unconscious. With Crosshair back you had to watch the bright lights around the ship due to his enhanced sight, as well as make sure he didn’t run out of toothpicks to stim with. Even you had your own problem; insomnia.
Then there was Echo. Echo had it the worst out of the batch. He’d been blown up and then used as an unwilling intel device in the past, leaving him prone to panic attacks, nightmares that caused his insomnia, and phantom limb pain. He’d been one of the main reasons you’d been assigned to the bad batch, in addition to being their field medic. Everyone had warned you that he was the worst patient to deal with, yet in your entire time from leaving Kamino to “kidnapping” Crosshair he’d been nothing but kind. They all had (even Crosshair, in his own way).
It made you feel safe and loved that you’d finally found a home you belonged. Especially now that you had Omega running around the ship, insisting on helping with injuries. You let her do the small patch jobs.
On this particular night, though, everyone but yourself was asleep. You’d managed to sleep with the others, but you’d woken up in the middle of the night unable to return to your slumber. Insomnia was a bitch, but you’d started to mind it less and less. It gave you time to do rough sketches in your sketchbook, or reorganize the first aid kit, the first of which you were currently doing while sitting inside your bunk at the top of the stack. You had your sketchbook in your lap as you drew from memory the planets you’d been to, keeping an eye on Echo tossing and turning in his hammock.
You’d first started to notice him ten or so minutes ago. It was nothing more than a few mumbles, a typical nightmare, to start. Then he started to get louder and to toss and turn. You bit your tongue, waiting for five minutes more to make sure he wouldn’t fall back to sleep on his own. The two of you had an agreement that if it took more than fifteen minutes, he should be woken up. You really hated waking him up, he always looked so afraid and lost when he’d come to and he’d never fall back to sleep that night.
Yet when your watch told you it had been fifteen minutes and Echo was only getting louder, you tucked away from your sketchbook with a resigned sigh. You’d have to wake him up before he woke the crew up. Urgency overtook you as you looked back to see him rubbing at his implants. Thankfully, his hammock was attached to the foot of your bed, so you could easily stir him awake.
Carefully, you rested your hand on his shoulder. You gave him a gentle shake at first, increasing the firmness and adding in his name until he jolted forwards. You quickly pulled back your hand as he frantically looked around the ship, his breathing slowing as he eventually found your gaze.
“It was fifteen minutes, Echo. Are you okay? I can get some water if you’d like,” you offer, trying to take in any indication if he’d need more than water.
“Some cream too… please,” he requests quietly, reading your silent question. He always got so quiet late at night. Especially after nightmares.
“I’ll be right back,” you assure him as you climb down from your bunk. Thankfully the other bunks were sealed closed so no one was disturbed by your soft footsteps as you crept to grab a few supplies.
You easily found the cream in your first aid kit, tucked in the section labeled “Echo”. The water was easier; a small bottle from one of the crates of supplies. Hunter never minded you taking one or two (or perhaps he never noticed). Regardless, you headed back to your bunk, silently noticing Echo was missing.
“Echo?” you whisper into the quiet hull.
“Up here.” His reply came from the direction of your bunk, putting a small smile on your lips as you climbed up and returned to your personal hiding spot. He was sitting at the end, as if unsure if you’d kick him out or not.
“I got the water,” you whisper first, passing him the water bottle and moving to close the bunk. Your hand pauses over the controls, glancing back to him carefully unscrewing the cap with one hand. “You okay if I close it so we don’t wake Omega?”
He looks up with wide eyes dipped in fear as if he was a live wire, the same expression he wore after any nightmare, and nods his head. You press the button and the seal on the bunker locks, leaving the two of you in the enclosed space together.
“You want to do the cream, or should I?” you inquire, giving him time to finish his drink as you unscrew the cap.
“It’s easier if you do it,” he whispers, screwing the cap back on and pulling his shoulders in.
“Legs? Or arm?”
“Everything.”
You nod your head quietly as you shuffle forwards enough that he can drape his leg across your lap. Gently you roll the leg of his pant up to just past the prosthetic. The skin around the metal was red and inflamed even though you’d applied the cream before he went to bed. He sucks in a sharp breath as you press the first bit of cream to his leg, letting out a shaky sigh as you work the cream gently into his skin. He’s relaxed against the wall by the time you roll the pant leg up on his other leg. Sneaking a glance up at him, you smiled at his closed eyes as he slumped against the cool metal of your bunk. You lived for the quiet, vulnerable moments the two of you would share while the rest of the batch was asleep. You loved them, but Echo held a special place in your heart that broke your first rule; don’t fall in love with a patient. It was fine as long as you didn’t tell him, you’d assure yourself as you finished with his leg.
“Arm?” you quietly request, holding out your hand for the stub. He removed his arm before sleeping, but he rarely took off his legs in case of an attack.
He blinks his eyes open, resembling a sad kitten as he held his arm out to you. You lean forwards, carefully cradling his arm in one hand and applying the bacta cream with the other. He lets out another small sigh as his arm falls back to his side.
“Can you… do the other implants too?” he all but pleas, his gaze trained on his legs in your lap. You bite back the urge to cup his face or pull him into a hug.
“Of course. As much as you need,” you promise him, gently resting a hand on his knee. “Want to reposition for that?”
He nods his head, voice caught in his throat. You back up, picking up your pillow while planning ahead. He carefully pulls off his shirt and sets it in the corner. You wait patiently as he turns around and stretches out across your bed, moving to fold his arm under his head for a pillow.
“Use this, it’ll be easier on your neck,” you offer, holding the pillow out to him. He takes it with a quiet thanks and shuffles a bit before relaxing as comfortably as he could on the bed.
You take great effort to not crush him, resting your body weight on your knees and heels as you sit above his hips. The creams opened once more and you work it along the exterior of his spine, carefully working towards the larger implants on his back. He lets out a content sigh as he relaxes into the pillow while you work. Very rarely did he allow you to apply the cream to his implants other than his arm, head, or legs, only after he’d have a rare shower. Never was he quite this relaxed. You took silent pride in being able to take away even a fraction of his pain.
“I’m going to do your head next, so hold still, okay? I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,” you explain as you reach for more cream.
“Go slow. I trust you,” he mumbles into your pillow. Your heart skips a beat as you bite back a broad grin, settling on a gentle smile.
“Okay,” is all you manage to say as you slowly work the cream around his implants per his request. Your fingers brush against the fuzz starting to grow back on his scarred skin. There’s about a centimeter of scared skin between his implants and where his hair starts. Just enough for him to insist that you or Tech use shampoo to wash his head.
“What’s so funny?” he asks from underneath you as you prompt him to shift his head. You hadn’t even realized you’d been laughing.
“Oh, sorry I didn’t realize - I was thinking about a few days ago when you and Tech got into the argument that you wanted shampoo,” you elaborate, taking a bit more cream.
“Tech doesn’t understand. He’s too busy going bald to know what hair regrowth looks like,” Echo mutters, his voice trailing off with a sigh as you rub cream on around a particularly red implant.
“Yeah, that looked like it hurt. Probably one of the ones you were rubbing in your sleep,” you speculate out loud. He tilts his head enough to look up at you for a brief moment before looking at the wall.
“I was conscious when they did it. They needed to monitor my brain function. Even with the sedatives there was still pressure. It felt like pain, I knew it was painful yet I couldn’t feel it,” he admits to the wall, holding the pillow closer.
You pause for a moment, taking in the admission with a tense silence. Words don’t come to your mind easily - well, words that aren’t curses or threats towards his past captors that was. Those weren’t helpful words. Not what Echo needed to hear. Yet he continued on before you could respond.
“I remember it, all of it - that was the nightmare - of them putting the implants in,” he tells you, curling closer to the pillow. “Am I… a freak?”
“No,” it’s an instinctual response, but the truth. There’s no hesitance in your response despite the raw honesty of his question. “You’re not a freak, Echo. Don’t ever let someone tell you that. You’re more than anything you’ve gone through because you’ve gone through it. You came out the other side, and you’re still fighting. You’re not a freak, you’re badass.”
He smiles, albeit weakly, but you’d take it.
“I was sold for three thousand credits.”
“Really? Because I’d have bought you for no less than three million credits.”
His smile fades as you apply the last bit of cream to his back. You tense slightly that you’d said something wrong, preparing for him to leave.
“No one would pay that much for me.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, reaching down on instinct to cup the side of his face and tilt him to face you. His whole body shifts so he’s laying on his back, always easy for you to move around with your meager average clone strength. You find yourself straddling across his chest, careful to not rest on any implants.
“You’re right. It would have to be three billion credits.”
He sighs again, staring at the ceiling behind your head.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Pills, but you don’t have to lie for my sake. I know I’m not worth that much.”
Your other hand sets the jar of cream on his chest, cupping the other side of his face so he’d meet your gaze.
“I mean it, Echo. The amount of credits means nothing. I’d go into debt if I had to; take out all the loans the so-called-empire would let me; steal you if I had to. You’re worth more than credits and freedom to me.”
His remaining hand rests over the top of yours as he meets your gaze. For a moment you’re worried he’s going to tell you off, or even laugh at your idiocy. Then he smiles; small and soft at the edges, with gentle tears gracing the corners of his eyes.
“Do you really mean that, Pills?”
“Of course I do, Echo.”
“Is this more than… do you mean it because I’m your squad member or…? I’m sorry, I’m not very good at these questions. I hope I’m not misreading your words, it’s late, and, well, I’m not good at any of this,” he stammers, searching your eyes with his breath caught in his throat.
“I can mean it in any way you’re comfortable with, Echo. I don’t want to force anything on you.” Honesty licks at your tone as your breath catches in your chest behind the lump in your throat.
He tilts his head into the palm of your hand that he’s currently covering and presses a testing kiss to it.
“Like… that perhaps?”
“Romantic?” you clarify, careful to keep your tone measured.
“Romantic. If that’s okay with you,” he repeats, watching you carefully.
“Romantic,” you echo as you lean down, ghosting your lips across his. He smiles against them, gently kissing you back before you pull away.
“Can you… finish the cream, please? I don’t mean to be rude but it hurts and -” You kiss him again to shut him up. He makes a startled noise but accepts it quickly with a smile.
“Of course. You don’t have to rationalize anything to me,” you assure him, straightening back up and shimmying down until you could properly reach the implants on his chest.
He smiles at you as you let go of his face and take his hand instead, rubbing cream around the implants on his forearm. His breathing evens out as you apply the final bit of cream to his chest and stomach implants, taking extra caution to not accidentally nudge them, knowing they were the most sensitive. When you finish, you set the cream on the ledge of your bunk before staring down at him.
“Do you want me to help you back to your hammock?”
“Is it okay if I stay here for the night?”
“Of course.”
You let him sit up and guide you backward, replacing your pillow behind your head. The two of you maneuver into a position where his implants aren’t pressing against you in an uncomfortable manner. He windes up with his good arm slung around your waist, your arms around him, his leg through yours, the cold metal against the fabric of your pants as you rest your leg over the top of his waist. He smiles against your chest.
“Try and get some sleep, okay?” you encourage him quietly as you run your fingers across the fuzzy hair on his head.
“Only if you try as well. I know your insomnia is bad,” he replies, fingers tracing against the fabric of your shirt.
“Alright, I’ll try,” you promise, kissing the top of his head and earning yourself a wider grin pressed to your chest.
It takes five minutes before his breathing evens out and slumber catches him once more. You smile to yourself as you continue to idly run your fingers across his hair.