Chapter Text
Kix woke to lights that were too bright and air that was too fresh.
He was indoors, probably on a ship, but not in space.
There was someone else in the room—another medic, maybe?
Or an interrogator?
Why would he think that?
Kix forced his eyelids to part, but only a blurry mess greeted him and he groaned.
“Kix?”
Medic, then. That was definitely a brother’s voice.
It was taking longer than usual for Kix’s vision to clear, and he felt a slow panic rising. “Where—what—?” His throat was as dry as Geonosis. Kix coughed.
“Easy, Kix, you’re safe. Here.”
A water pouch was brought to his lips, and Kix drank eagerly. The blurs were starting to solidify now. He was able to make out a narrow, too-pale face and bare head save for regularly spaced metal bits and—was that a cerebral circuit implant?
It took Kix an embarrassing amount of time to drudge up the name of the trooper he had helped patch up after that rescue from Skako Minor.
Finally, it came through.
“Echo?”
Echo’s face lit up like a Corellian firework. “Hey, Kix,” he greeted, voice hoarse with emotion.
A million questions flashed through Kix’s mind—why was Echo here? Where was the medic on duty? When had he gotten that implant? It didn’t seem to override his personality like they’d feared when they discussed the possibility at his last checkup—
“We pulled you out of stasis a few hours ago,” Echo said, intruding Kix’s rambling thoughts, and that was all fine and good, but what did—
Wait.
“Stasis?” Kix repeated.
And then he remembered the droids.
Clones weren’t captured. It was an unspoken rule in this war—no mercy on either side.
But a group of commando droids had targeted Kix in the middle of a battle. Taken him.
Just like Tup.
But now, when Kix looked at Echo sitting freely at his side on a clearly Republic ship (though this was not a proper med-bay—this looked more like a bunk room. So a smaller ship, then), Kix was able to put two and two together.
“You rescued me?”
Echo nodded. They both looked up as heavy footsteps thumped their way to the room, and then a human mountain wearing dark commando armor stepped in. “Hey, he’s awake!”
Kix took one look at Wrecker and instantly recalled how this tank of a soldier had bodily lifted Jesse by the neck, choked him out, and then flattened him like a pancake.
“You! No, no, what are they doing here?”
Echo put his hand on Kix’s shoulder and shook him slightly. “Hey now, easy, Kix. You’re safe. It's just Wrecker.”
Kix grasped Echo’s wrist, grateful for the grounding contact, and took deep breaths as his foggy brain belatedly reminded him that Echo had officially joined the Bad Batch a few months back, and the squad wasn’t half bad once you got to know them. Kix must still be pretty out of it to have said something like that out loud to anyone, let alone about brothers who had already proven themselves trustworthy.
Just when everything had started making sense again, however, a towheaded child with a huge grin came in and motioned to Wrecker, who took a knee so she could whisper in his ear. Whatever she had to tell him must’ve been good news—Wrecker gasped, “REALLY??” and the two of them ran out of the room together.
Echo must’ve seen Kix’s face because he laughed and shook his head. “A lot’s changed around here since Omega came aboard. For the better.” Echo stared after his crewmates for a moment, then turned serious again and looked back to Kix. “How are you feeling?”
Kix shrugged. “Considering I’ve just come out of stasis for who-knows-how-long? Peachy.”
Echo’s face quirked in a half smile, but it didn’t last long, which put Kix on the alert.
“What is it?” Kix asked.
Echo took a deep breath and ran his hand over his still-too-pale face. “It’s . . . Fives.”
Something in Kix’s soul lurched, but he was ready—he was so ready to have this conversation. He opened his mouth to assure Echo that he knew, he knew exactly what had happened to Fives, and he could explain everything about the chips, about the tragic day on Coruscant, everything, but then Echo kept talking.
“We’re leaving him in stasis until you’re well enough to be on duty. It looks like he was shot in the chest, and we’re not sure how bad it is yet. But the stasis pod indicates he’s still alive, so...”
Kix felt his jaw drop as everything he thought he knew, once again, was flung out the airlock into the cold vacuum of space.
“Fives . . . is alive?” Kix whispered.
Echo nodded, the weight of the situation resting visibly on his neck. Kix bit back an automatic reminder to loosen up, making a mental note to bring it up later. Echo continued, “We think so. We just . . . don’t know if we could keep him that way.” Looking back up, Echo pierced Kix with a fierce hope. “But you can.”
Kix felt his own shoulders tense and creep up towards his ears—he knew Fives and Echo weren’t just close, they were batchmates. Kix could only imagine how devastating it would be for him if he’d lost Jesse, let alone lose him twice.
Whatever else was going on could be sorted out later. As a field medic, Kix knew what Echo needed to hear to put him at ease.
“I’ll do my best, Echo,” Kix said firmly. “I promise.”
Echo smiled fondly, and his shoulders relaxed. Good. “I know, Kix. You always do.” He patted Kix’s arm and stepped away from his bunk, following after Wrecker and the kid. “I think I heard Omega say they found some explosives on that old ship—I better go check on them. Get some rest.”
When Kix heard the whole story about Order 66, he was understandably overwhelmed. When the story came round to Crosshair, however, he didn’t look all that surprised, muttering bitterly, “I knew I never liked him.”
Wrecker was instantly on his feet. “Hey! Say that again, I dare you!”
Kix rose too, raising a pointing finger to jab at Wrecker’s chest. “No—do not get me started on this. I know he was your batchmate, but between what I saw and what Rex told me he saw—”
“Hey, hey, break it up!” Echo snapped, coming between the pair and shoving them both. Wrecker barely swayed, but Kix, who was still recovering his balance after being in stasis, staggered back. “Look, Kix, Crosshair’s rough around the edges, but he looked out for me as much as any of them did.”
Omega appeared out of nowhere at Wrecker’s side, fists clenched and eyes glaring. “Besides, it’s not his fault he stayed! It was the chip!”
Kix sobered immediately, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” he told the room at large, but mostly to Wrecker. Despite getting off on the wrong foot the first time, he was beginning to see the softness in this large but younger brother of his, and he was hurting—Kix hadn't meant to reopen that wound. He rubbed his eyes roughly and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s just… a lot take in right now.”
“Completely understandable,” Tech assured him. “I’m surprised you are not in shock yet.”
“I’m a medic,” Kix huffed in grim humor. “I learned to work through stress response pretty early on.” He glanced in the direction of the hold for a moment, as if he could look through the bulkhead and see Hunter keeping watch over Fives, who was still in his stasis pod. “Maybe be careful about how much you tell Fives, though. He’s been missing a lot longer than I have, and he’s injured—shock wouldn’t do him any favors.”
Kix had done a magnificent job, but for all the medic’s skill, it was touch-and-go for several hours after they released Fives from stasis. As soon as he gave the all-clear, Echo was at his brother’s side, holding Fives’ hand and watching his chest move rhythmically up and down. It would be some time before he woke up, Kix had explained, but Echo was resolute on staying with him. Most of the Bad Batch gave them space, but towards the end of the day cycle, Hunter came in.
“Have you had anything to eat, Echo?”
Echo sighed, knowing full well what was coming—Captain Rex had handled similar situations the exact same way.
“No? Go on, then—I’ll keep watch.” Hunter put an arm around Echo’s shoulders and walked him to the door, brooking no argument. With a gentle shove, Echo was left standing in the hallway with Hunter propping a hip against the doorway, effectively barricading the recovery room.
“Yes, sir.” Echo sarcastically replied, as though he had any choice in the matter. He dragged his prosthetic feet to the galley, where Tech already had a steaming hot ration packet open and waiting for him.
Tech was in the middle of rambling about different measurement systems throughout the galaxy to Wrecker and Omega, who were halfway through their own meals. Omega smiled brightly at Echo and scooted over so he could sit at the table beside her.
“Okay, okay,” Wrecker said, interrupting Tech’s lecture, “but is there a way to measure explosions?”
“Of course there is,” Tech scoffed. “That would be the Lofic Meter. Planets in the Lofinikiodi system were thought to be solid rock until deeper scans were run. Their native populations lived entirely underground, and therefore their method of expansion was to blast their way deeper into the planet…”
Echo tuned the rest out and glanced sidelong at Omega, hoping to share an eye roll with her, but she looked fully invested in Tech’s description of strange species and distant star systems. Echo looked back down at his foil packet of flavored mush and smiled wryly to himself. Maybe once Fives woke up, he’d finally have another sensible person to ground him among the insanity that was the Bad Batch.
It was late into the night cycle when Omega shuffled into the recovery room and pulled up a second chair beside Echo, who was once again holding Fives’ hand and staring off into the middle distance. Omega put a hand on Echo’s arm and he startled, looking at her as if just noticing she was here. That wasn’t like him—he was usually keenly aware of his surroundings.
“What are you doing up, Omega? It’s late.”
Omega put her hands in her lap and ducked her head. “… had a nightmare,” she admitted quietly.
Echo sighed and released Fives’ hand so he could wrap his arm around Omega and pull her close. Omega didn’t usually come to him for nightmares—Hunter was obviously her first choice—but there was something about Echo that was just . . . different from the rest of the Bad Batch. Perhaps it was because he was older, or because he was used to living with a lot more brothers than the others were—in any case, he gave very good hugs, even with all his prosthetics, and was always a steady presence for Omega to fall back to. He also knew that sometimes, she didn’t need a solution, per se, just comfort.
It only took a few minutes of listening to Echo and Fives breathing in semi-unison before the tension in Omega’s chest to start unspooling itself, and her eyes started to feel heavy again. She looked up at Echo’s face, wondering if he felt the same relaxing weight, but he was still staring unblinkingly at Fives’ still form.
“Echo . . . you need to sleep, too.”
Echo finally blinked a few times, and then he took a deep breath, shook his head as if to clear it, and looked down at her, “I know, I just… well…”
“It’s okay Echo, you don’t have to explain—I’d do the same thing.” Omega leaned her head against his shoulder, and Echo reached up to smooth her hair.
“You already have, Omega—you kept watch for me, back on Kamino.”
Omega hummed, remembering the thrill of that first food fight, and then the terror at learning how badly Echo’s head had been smashed against that tray—head trauma was dangerous for anyone, but especially Echo. He had so many delicate circuits wired directly to his brain, and a disruption to any one of them—
Omega had been mortified at the thought that she might’ve started a fight that disabled, or even killed, one of her childhood idols.
She shivered a bit at the memory and Echo tightened his grip around her shoulders in response, as if reminding her that he was here, he was alright, and he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
They sat in silence for a while longer, and it wasn’t until Echo shifted to pick her up that Omega realized she’d dozed off.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Echo whispered, hoisting her into his arms.
“What about you?” Omega murmured, only half consciously wrapping her arm around his neck as he walked into the hallway.
Echo didn’t answer right away, and Omega forced herself to open her eyes and think.
It came to her in a flash—it was so obvious, really.
“Wait, what if bring all our blankets and pillows in here? That way we can sleep and keep an eye on Fives.”
“I don’t think Hunter—” Echo began, clearly in the camp of you’re just a kid and kids should sleep in a bed. (So the boring camp.)
“Hunter thinks that’s a great idea,” the man in question said behind them. “Then he knows exactly where Omega is, instead of looking for through the whole ship for her when he finds out she’s not in bed.”
Echo turned around, and Omega lifted her head from his shoulder to smile guiltily at Hunter. “Sorry. Do you want to come sleep in the recovery room too?”
Hunter hesitated, and in a tone exactly identical to Echo’s earlier protest, said, “I don’t think Kix would like that. He needs to be able to reach Fives if anything happens.”
“Then we should invite Kix too! And Wrecker, and Tech! There’s plenty of room in there for all of us—please, Hunter?”
Omega gave him her most innocent, wide-eyed look, and she knew from experience that Hunter didn’t have the energy to fight it this late into the night cycle—he just groaned faintly and ran a hand over his face.
“Only if they all want to, Omega. And if Kix says no, that’s final.”
“Okay!” Omega squirmed until Echo put her down. “You two grab the pillows and blankets—I’ll go talk to the others!”
As she pattered down the hall, Omega heard Echo mutter, “How does she do that? Go from zero to lightspeed that quick? ‘s not fair.”
Fives’ first conscious thought was there was something crushing his chest. When he groaned and shifted to paw at the weight, a firm hand caught his wrist. “Hey, steady now, brother . . .”
If the medic—because only medics had that caring but firm tone of voice—said anything else, it was lost to static in Fives’ brain. He caught starts and stops of other conversations swirling around him, unsure if they were connected or disjointed moments in time.
…be alright, he just…
… anything to eat? No? Go on, then…
…already have, Omega—you kept watch for me…
Eventually, Fives fully surfaced to soft sleeping sounds—heavy breathing, a small snore every now and again, an occasional rustle of fabric. He could tell even without opening his eyes that it was pitch dark, but Fives felt safe and warm for the first time since he was back in his barracks with the 501st, before getting shipped off to Kamino with Tup, even before the mission to Ringo Vinda. Everything that had happened on that cursed planet felt like a far-off dream, but Fives still remembered all of it. He forced himself to. For Tup, for all his brothers, for all the Jedi who had no idea the men they fought alongside would turn on them at the flick of a switch.
It was obviously the night cycle of whatever ship or planet he was on, but Fives had the distinct impression that he’d been sleeping for days, and now that he was truly awake, he’d had enough lying around.
It was a brief struggle to get his eyes open—they felt crusty from disuse—but eventually he managed it, and only then realized that it wasn’t quiet pitch black in this room. Across the room, the soft glow of a datapad lit up a narrow, goggled face, and Fives had to do a double take before he decided the man truly was a clone—he seemed too pale and thin and just… different.
Fives must’ve made some kind of sound, or perhaps his movement caught the strange brother’s eye, but in any case, the man set aside his datapad and reached over to one of the loudly breathing mounds on the floor.
“Kix. He’s awake.”
Oh, thank the Force—Kix was here! If Kix was here, then here must be with the 501st, and if Fives was back with the 501st—!
A dark silhouette leaned over him, blocking out the faint glow from the datapad that the strange clone had instantly returned to. “Fives?”
“Kix,” Fives croaked, and thought he might cry. “You—General Skywalker—”
“Shh, don’t wake the others,” Kix urged quietly, casting a quick glance at the bodies on the floor. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got run over by a speeder,” Fives muttered.
“And you would know, would you?” Kix teased, rolling his eyes and helping Fives sit up.
“Yes,” Fives harumphed while Kix scanned him with a datapad, its glow lighting up his face. “Or did you forget about the time I tried to teach Hardcase how to drive one?”
Kix looked up from his datapad for a moment with a wry smirk. “I’d forgotten about that. You’d broken a few ribs and had massive bruising. Yes, I could see why this would feel similar.”
Fives paused. “What happened this time?”
“You don’t remember? …You were… you were shot, Fives. Just missed your heart.”
Something about the way Kix said shot implied that it wasn’t any old B1 battledroid that taken Fives down, and it was pretty obvious that Kix had thought he’d died….
Don’t do it, soldier!
Fives shuddered and pressed his eyes closed briefly, letting the memory wash over him and then fade away.
“Fives,” Kix called softly. “Breathe, Fives.”
Oh, had he forgotten to do that?
Fives took in a deep breath, flinching at the brief jolt of pain at the bottom of his lungs, and then exhaled slowly. He took a few more breaths to show he could, but Kix still hovered over him, watching him closely.
“I’m alright, brother,” Fives sighed. “I’m alive, aren’t I? That means General Skywalker believed me. He’ll keep us safe.”
Kix patted Fives’ shoulder and nodded. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
If anyone hadn’t known Kix and known him well, they would have been perfectly content with this response. But Fives made a point to play cards with all of his brothers at least once, and he had learned all of their tells. (Fives himself was a terrible liar—he had rarely won any card games, but he found them very educational nonetheless.)
Kix was a pragmatic medic, not one to sugarcoat things. His policy was to only lie to his patients if the situation was much worse than they thought, and the stress would only compound the problem. When he did this, he made a point to look them in the eye. It sold most people. It didn’t sell Fives.
There were only two reasons Fives could think of that Kix would play this front: if Fives was actually dying, or…
Or if Fives had failed.
But Fives was alive. So he hadn’t failed. If he’d failed, he’d be six feet under.
“Are you experiencing any pain?” Kix asked.
“A bit,” Fives answered distantly, mind still whirling to puzzle out what was happening.
Then Kix pulled his head to the side and jabbed a hypo into his neck without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Gah—Kix!” Fives whisper-shouted, though the fast-acting pain relief was already allowing him to relax muscles he hadn’t even realized were clenched.
Kix set the used hypo aside and helped Five lie back. “You had a close call, Fives. You need more rest.”
Sleep was already dragging at his eyes all over again, but Fives grit his teeth, grabbed Kix’s wrist and yanked, determined to get eye contact. “When I wake up, Kix,” Fives growled, “You will tell me what actually happened.”
Kix closed his eyes briefly. “We have a lot to tell you, Fives. But you need to rest.”
“Alright.” Fives let Kix go and settled back. “Thanks, br—”
He didn’t remember finishing that sentence as his consciousness abruptly blinked off, leaving him drifting somewhere safe, warm, and blessedly blank.