#imperial batch

Blithe's eyes slowly blink open to find Echo kneeling beside her and Tech's face hovering over hers with his datapad in hand. "Nothing is broken and seeing as no one here seems to be in a rush to initiate a frenzied carnal encounter," he adds with a glance at Echo, "it would seem that we have avoided pollen exposure." He stands and follows Crosshair out the door without looking back, mumbling under his breath that he would have liked for at least one of them to have been exposed so he could study the results.

Hunter kneels beside Echo and gazes briefly at Blithe's pupils. "Concussion for sure. She should go to the infirmary."

"No! No, I'm fine!" Blithe insists quickly. Too quickly.

Hunter leans in so close that Blithe is unsure of his intentions until she hears him inhale deeply. "She's scared. I can smell it on her."

"You're safe, Lieutenant," Echo offers. "The plant's dead."

"I'm fine," she repeats. "I don't need treatment. I'll be fine."

That was too many "fines", and Echo suddenly understands. "I'll make sure she gets what she needs, Hunter."

Hunter looks between them and nods, taking one last look at the mass of steaming vines littering the lab before taking his leave.

"I don't want to go to the infirmary, sir," Blithe says quickly as she attempts to stand. She doesn't even get halfway to upright before her head is spinning, and Echo has to catch her by the arms.

"You don't have to. I get it. I'm not exactly big on the infirmary either." He looks around and his frown deepens. "Looks like we're staying in your room tonight."

"We, sir?"

"You're concussed. I'm not leaving you alone tonight. Besides, I can see my quarters sparking from here," he says while jerking his head toward the open doorway, "so that's not happening. Your quarters are designed for two. I'll take the other bunk so I can keep an eye on you."

"You don't have to," Blithe responds with a wince. "I'm sure there are more comfortable temporary quarters you can be assigned to while yours are repaired."

"Blithe," Echo says slowly, "either I stay and watch over you, or you spend the night in the medical wing. Your call."

Blithe smiles softly in relief as he helps her to stand. "Thank you, sir."

Echo gives a single nod as he steadies his dizzy aide. He almost walks her to her bunk, but changes course and heads for the small refresher instead.

"Sir?"

"You need to change. You've got plant juice on your uniform. I don't know what that'll do if it seeps into your skin. Let's not find out. Do you have something to change into in there? Night clothes?"

"I have the standard issue on a hook, sir." She turns and makes a face as she points up at his neck. "You should consider washing up too, sir. Just in case."

Echo lifts his hand to his neck and feels the syrupy juice on his collar. "Good call. You steady?"

Blithe takes a couple of steps. "I think so."

Echo returns a few minutes later to find his aide blinking heavily as she sits on the edge of the bottom bunk. He clears his throat when he sees what she's wearing; the gray sleep shorts and sleeveless shirt bearing the Imperial crest were not what he was expecting from the "standard issue."

Blithe's eyes widen slightly at what he is wearing too. She expects to see him return in a clean officer's uniform. What she sees instead is a fresh black undersuit that highlights everything beneath it. Her face and ears heat up as he approaches. She tries not to stare at the lines where his thighs meet his prostheses or the muscular thighs themselves, but lifting her eyes higher only makes matters worse. The suit easily puts rumors about the extent of his injuries to rest for good. 

Echo looks down at her fixed stare with a quirked eye. He knows the intense look is a result of her disorientation, but suddenly wonders if he should have worn something that hid his body from her better. He’s sure she would be noticing the places where his body transitioned to machinery if she had her wits about her. Even more interesting is the realization that there were other things in the undamaged part of his quarters he could have worn, making him internally question when he had gotten so comfortable around her.

He kneels in front of her, tilting her chin up with his scomp to see her eyes in the light. "I bet you've got a big headache."

Blithe squints against the overhead lighting. "I've had worse."

"Hmm. Then I guess you don't need this med patch." He holds up an already unwrapped unit between two fingers.

A miserable sigh escapes her without permission, and Echo takes it as confirmation that the patch is as needed as he was anticipating. "You know why I don't like visiting medical. Why don't you?"

Blithe watches as her commander gently fixes the bacta-infused wonder to her forehead, fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he motions for her to lie back. She internally debates answering his question. She hadn't intended to share this part of her past with him, but he was her superior and he asked her directly. "You've read my file."

"I have." He pulls the blanket over her and lowers the light, then proceeds to lower the top bunk from its home in the wall. But instead of moving to climb into it for sleep, he sits back on his heels at the head of the lower bunk. "Tell me."

She takes a deep breath to steady herself against a sudden wave of nausea, then stares up at the underside of the dark bunk above her. "The insurgent attack that gave me this," she began, pointing to the gash above her eye, "injured me very badly. I remember waking up for a few seconds at a time in a bacta tank and seeing distorted images and bubbles. When they finally pulled me out, I had a lot of scarring and..."

"And?"

Blithe's eyes screwed shut. "And I was told that my mother had died."

Echo knew her medical history and family history. He didn't know her trauma and grief were linked. "I'm sorry."

"I know it's ridiculous, but I can't stand to be around doctors or medical situations of any kind now. Every time I do, I see them."

Who "them" was—the insurgents, bodies, the doctors themselves—didn't matter, and Echo was not about to ask. The loss of her mother was not unlike his removal from the Techno Union stasis chamber. He knows that pain. Survivor's guilt and a sense of abandonment are his constant companions. He now knows that they are hers too.

He doesn't realize until he looks back at her face that he has been lost in his thoughts long enough for her to have fallen asleep. The reason for his presence snaps back to the forefront of his mind and he shakes her. "Blithe? Lieutenant?"

"Mmm?"

Echo chuckles softly at the groggy display. "I'll need to wake you up again soon to check on you."

"M'kay." She groans softly at the pain in her head before rolling to her side. "G'night, Echo."

Echo's eyes widen at the sound of his name. It's insubordinate and unacceptable, but he'll allow it in the circumstances. He climbs into the top bunk with no need to set an alarm to remind him to check on his battered charge.