#soft echo

“All the same, I'll review your scans once more to ensure I haven’t missed something.” That was as close to a dismissal as I was going to get, but still I found myself hesitating, unable to turn away from the worried determination painting subtle lines at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t notice until the silence lasted a beat too long, eyes flicking toward me with an uncertainty that made my heart jump. I almost hesitated… but he’d seemed so undeterred when he took my hand mere moments prior…

I let out a slow, deep sigh as I stepped toward him, arms looping around his lower back with a gentle, featherlight embrace; one he could escape with the barest of withdrawals, but I needed him to know just how grateful I was; for his concern, his understanding, his willingness to talk to me when the others still tripped over the words.

“Thank you.” I whispered against his chest. He was still for a moment, air held in his lungs, arms flared ever so slightly, and I worried I’d overstepped; that I’d pushed too far and might rekindle the heartbreak from that moment he’d shied from my touch… but then his free hand settled lightly over my shoulder blade, the other thoughtlessly setting the tablet down on the bed or the counter or wherever was nearest before moving to slide softly along my lower back.

I’d planned to grant myself only time enough for a single, slow breath, and then I was going to pull away. I was going to give him his space for however long he needed it, but then his body shifted, embrace wrapping so firmly around me, I couldn’t help but let my torso arch forward, molding against his as his deceptively tall form curled around mine, head ducking down to rest his cheek against my temple, ruffling my hair in a thoughtless, firm caress that surely couldn’t be called a nuzzle, his own breath fleeing with a tension neither of us would draw attention to. Not yet. But I let my arms tighten. I let him feel every glimmer of affection and adoration that might be sown through something as innocent and tender and desperate as a hug might possibly portray, and I realized something as my own breath caught.

Some part of me had still feared that he might have reservations; that in our time apart, he had distanced himself from emotion and found logic wanting for reasons I ought stay; that he’d concluded what chaos surely lingered in the days to come as we six struggled to settle into new norms and new roles governed by a love and lust that was anything but new couldn’t be justified by what use I had to the squad as a unit, but that embrace, the relief so shamelessly screamed in the way his fingers dug into the narrow gaps between my armor silenced even whispers of that doubt.

My hand slid up to card through the short curls at the base of his neck, fingertips tracing lightly over the band of his goggles as I tilted my head to just brush my brow against his chin, lips laxed in a gentle smile.

“Thank you.” I murmured once more, leaning back just enough to find his gaze, to let him see my own relief in the face of his, and his breath caught slightly, a tension returning to draw his shoulders back and straighten his spine as though belatedly remembering himself.

“O-of course.” He stammered ever so slightly as he stepped back. “I’ll… inform you if I find anything of note.” The subtle embarrassment in his voice as he quickly turned his attention to where he’d thoughtlessly abandoned his datapad left me chuckling softly as I turned away.

There was a weightlessness to my step that I hadn’t realized I’d been without for so long, suffering beneath the guilt for wants I’d been ashamed of, fears of what retribution surely awaited me should they ever come to light, but now I was free of that, and the possibilities laid out before me in its absence were exhilarating, consuming my every thought as I tread quickly through the door. Too quickly.

I wasn’t paying attention; wasn’t thinking beyond the thrill lingering in the wake of Tech’s embrace, head bowed as though trying to hide the grin I couldn’t begin to fight from my lips, and I didn’t see him; didn’t notice how near I’d come to accidentally walking right into him, but the instant Echo’s hand grabbed my arm, the instant his voice filled that small room, it didn’t matter what he’d said nor how gently he held me. All I saw was that rage in eyes unfocused and hazy with illness, the venom in that remorseless threat, I’m not asking again, and my entire body froze, ice flooding my veins, panic locking my muscles taut, too terrified to move, to breathe, to even try to flee for what punishment it might bring.

“Whoa-whoa; easy.” His arms flared, releasing me before my short, strangled gasp even fell silent. I saw him – saw the sharp concern in the soft brown of his eyes, the way his shoulders dropped like it might lessen the intimidating visage of his powerful form, lessen the way his broad silhouette so effortlessly blocked the hallway, but I saw that nightmare just as clearly, how ruthlessly he’d ground my face into the floor, twisting my arm behind me…

He took another step back, and my heart sank, chest bucking with a stolen breath as my gaze dropped, stomach twisting at the horrifying realization of what had just happened, the fear I’d let him see in me, the guilt and worry storming in his eyes…

“Kriff, sorry; s-… I, um…” I stammered, trying and failing to find some believable excuse that might give a reason – any reason – for my limbs to be shaking like they were; some way to convince him that it had nothing to do with him; that my mind had been broken and pieced back together too many times to even guess toward why such a touch might have so easily shattered me.

“Y- uh… j-just s-surprised me.” The words caught and fumbled, and I knew he granted them no more belief than I did, stance still carefully loose, as unthreatening as he could possibly pretend to be even as that haunted corner of my mind screamed that it was a lie; that I needed to run… to hide, and how I hated myself for it, for the realization that this ran deeper than a moment’s surprise; that this wasn’t something I could just ignore, and the terror of how it would hurt him if he ever found out… kriff, I could never let him find out… So, I pushed it down. I let an impatient shame pinch my brows and pull my lips in a small scowl, and when he carefully lowered himself onto a knee before me, that guilt only grew.

“Alright, just… just take a breath with me, okay?” He murmured, the subtle, lilting accent in his deep voice almost disjointed in how utterly juxtaposed it was to the feral terror still making my heart race, because how could I feel like this when he spoke to me so softly? How could I shy so violently from his touch now when just moments prior I’d so eagerly lost myself in his embrace?

“Doc?” He pressed in a quiet whisper, and I forced out a small huff, loathing the air of defeat that stole through me, the regret as I hesitantly glanced toward him.

“Hey.” He murmured in a barely there rumble that made my breath hitch, shoulders slumping as a tiny fraction of tension slowly began to drain from taut muscles and faintly trembling limbs. “Sorry… I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” I let out an almost frustrated sigh.

“No… no, I’m sorry…” I interjected, “You shouldn’t… Dammit, you shouldn’t have to worry about just… touching me like that.” He let out a long, slow breath, eyes just as haunted as they were gentled by how intimately he knew the exact tang of my frustration and the helplessness it carried.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and I felt myself pause; not because of the shame of the only answer I could think to give, but because that wasn’t what he was asking. He wasn’t dwelling on the moment of panic; not when he knew talking about such things would offer no relief. Not yet, at least; not when the adrenaline had yet to fade and memories still threatened to distort and degrade and ruin that happiness I’d only just been allowed to taste.

Stealing another quick breath, I glanced back toward the medbay where Tech was surely still scanning every snip of data until he could silence his own fears, and I nodded.

“Yeah… yeah; no brain bleeds or broken bones.” I answered, voice still too thin but far steadier than I’d expected it to be, and I relished in the smile he offered. It was small, and neither could deny the heartbreak in it, but it was real.

The duality haunted me. This was the Echo I was used to: kind but honest, gentle but firm; yet the man that hurt me, the man that so effortlessly crippled me by twisting my shoulder from its socket… that man was Echo, too; the monster he became when he had to.

“Ple-”

My breath caught at the ripple of that memory, finger tightening around the phantom trigger to murder that mercenary from so long ago, the one I’d tortured for the keycode to save the arc trooper now kneeling before me with that sad, knowing smile, and I leapt for even a tiny distraction.

“That can’t be comfortable.” The glimmer of accusation in my words as I glanced down at his legs earned a barely-there chuckle, but he didn’t deny it as he slowly rose to his full height, shoulders still slouched ever so slightly.

“They’re pretty much healed – just a little sore if I’m on them too long.” He replied, not dismissively, but clearly hoping to leave it at that. I let out a low sigh, attention lingering on the new prosthetics, the image of putrid wounds so poorly hidden beneath stolen bandages and wildly inadequate swaths of bacta long-since stained a far too dark red left me itching to beg him to show me, to let me see for myself that the skin hadn’t yielded from the day’s abuse and begun to fester anew, and I wondered how long it might take for that fear to fade… for any of those fears to fade…

He didn’t mean to move when I reached for his hand, but I saw the little shift of his fingers, too eager for the coming touch to lie still. Despite the warmth that sight sent humming through my chest, I couldn’t bring myself to smile, not when the soreness he was referring to only plagued him because of secrets he’d felt he had to keep because of me, because of the confusion of changing dynamics, the sudden need to second-guess every word and gesture to ensure some line wasn’t crossed that had been blurred long before I even knew it existed, and the heaviness in what was so nearly a gentle quiet weighed all the more merciless amidst the loss of his own tentative grin.

“I’m sorry.” My voice dropped into something almost too quiet to be a whisper, movements desperately gentle, reverent, as I cradled his hand between mine, fingertips tracing scars and veins and the creases adorning his palm. “Dealing with wounds like those… You must have been so afraid, and in so much pain… and to feel like you couldn’t ask for help…” He let out a slow sigh, head dropping though he seemed to lean ever so slightly closer; not crowding me, but… close enough that I could hear his lips and tongue shifting over words he was still trying to find the will to say.

“That’s… not your fault.” He finally admitted. Part of me wanted to ignore that claim, to dismiss it as an empty attempt to offer comfort; to free me of guilt, but that wasn’t Echo’s way, so I found my breath quieting, stilling; waiting for something more. “It’s… it’s still hard to accept sometimes…” He glanced down toward his new legs, such reluctance in hushed words colored only in various shades of shame; shame for the hurt he’d caused and the hurt he’d suffered, shame for being too proud or embarrassed or scared to ask for help, shame for needing help at all…

And there, again, those dual images clashed, because how could I possibly fear the gentle man before me? How could I bring myself to acknowledge that this was the same person that had left me shaking and broken barely more than a week past when now he stood so repentant and vulnerable, muscles atop his cheeks balled in a self-disdained scowl as he glared at the interplay of metals and silicas and engineering that was more deserving of awe than the disgust so evident in twisted lips and narrowed eyes?

I let out a slow breath as I guided his hand to my lips. It felt so natural. Like I’d kissed him a thousand times already with the promise of millions more awaiting, patient as though they’d never known the taste of doubt, and he shared so willingly in that unquestioning comfort as his touch spread out to cup my cheek before letting his thumb and forefinger toy with a loose strand of hair.

“I’m here.” The words washed from my lips as more plea than promise, and the ruin of a smile that sat so briefly but with such heaviness upon his battle-worn face left me stealing a step closer, grip tightening ever so slightly, anything to convince him that there were no conditions to my devotion; no reservations built on prejudice or pity.

“I know.” He murmured, some glimmer of warmth managing to ease that weight from him as he leaned closer in turn, and there was no hesitation from either of us as my head tilted back.

He tasted like caf that had been forgotten for too long and now held a bitterness emphasized by the slight chill of his lips. Still, there was a subtle rhythm to how he kissed me, unrushed and unworried; and how could I not loop my arms around his neck in a gesture both yearning and lazy and unabashed by the breathy sigh that followed, before, with the same breath, letting myself sink back onto my heels.

His shame wasn’t gone, but it was softer. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to have those moments – to acknowledge what he’d lost and rage for it, but I didn’t need to. He didn’t need me to tell him things he already knew. He just needed to know that I could love him all the same; that I didn’t see him as less than whole even on days when he felt so terribly fractured.

With a final smile, my hands slid down his jaw as I began to ease back, attention flicking past him toward where his brothers surely lay in waiting, but, before I could so much as think to step away, his hold shifted, willing me back toward him with a desperate, “wait” in the split second before he kissed me once more, breath nearly a growl as he pressed himself closer, scomped arm wrapping so tightly around my waist that my torso arched flush against his with a gasp that fell far too willingly into a muffled whimper, the sound devoured by his lips.

There wasn’t space left even to moan his name, nails catching on armor and cloth and hair as I lost myself in the suddenness of his need. It wasn’t until I heard the air catch between his teeth in a breathless hiss that I even realized how my body had rolled into him, hips grinding against his armor until he could feel me through even the thick durasteel shifting so cruelly between us. Part of me wondered if that fleeting murmur of friction would be enough; if such muted whispers of movement coupled with far too many months of repressed desires might bring him to the edge, and I found myself desperate to find out, to learn what other noises I might draw from him absent true touch.

But then he was pulling away, forehead brushing mine in what should have been affectionate yet earned only a flare of frustration as I strained to chase his lips once more. The breathy chuckle, the smile beaming across his face, the way his chest seemed to swell as he granted me exactly what I wanted for far too short an eternity, kiss nearly chaste amidst the thoughts raging through my mind; I couldn’t try to suppress the quiet groan from catching in my throat as he straightened up, the muffled sound only fueling his glee.

“Sorry,” he whispered, hand slipping so delicately down my cheek that I instantly felt myself melting into it, “just had to make sure.” My brows twitched together with confusion for the beat it took to remember how to speak.

“Make sure what?” I practically mumbled, voice far more hoarse than I’d intended, and he answered only with that stunning smile, free of every memory of pain or loss or guilt for just a moment as he kissed me once more before finally stepping back, scomp still resting lightly around my waist.

“Come on.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him like this: light. Happy. Truly happy. And whatever glimmers of my own fears lingered suddenly felt so foolish as I let myself be drawn nearer to him, idly following his every step in those few seconds in which we yet remained hidden from sight, body pressed so perfectly against his that even that damned armor felt inconsequential as I cursed how little distance lay between us and the cabin where light from the surrounding hanger already breached the Marauder’s halls to jostle us back to a too impatient present.

Crosshair was waiting out there. As was Hunter… and Wrecker… And my heart fluttered once more at the trepidation of relearning each of them amidst this new reality. But that trepidation was no longer born of pure dread… Despite every sliver of common sense screaming that this was bound to break us, despite the danger constantly looming beyond every corner, I couldn’t deny the real reason my heart was racing as Echo finally stepped away from me in those last few meters to the yawning doorway atop the ramp, his lips still softened with a smile and swollen from my kiss. Despite everything… I was excited.

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“What did you expect? A field tent on the beach?” 

Rex rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” 

Maybe.

The door opens and Omega bursts out. “Echo! You’re home!” 

“Hey, kiddo,” Echo says, wrapping her in a one armed embrace when she crashes into him. “And look who decided to tag along this time.” 

Omega’s eyes find Rex, and she smiles at him with all the warmth of a sun. “Rex!” and she flies to him next, arms wrapping around his middle. “What do you think of Pabu?” 

“It’s beautiful,” Rex tells her, carding his fingers through her blond curls. “You’ll have to show me around.” 

 Omega steps back, bouncing on her toes. “Really? Are you staying longer than just tonight?”

“How does three nights sound?” Echo asks her and laughs when the question earns a squee of approval from their little sister. 

They follow Omega inside, put their bags down in the main room, then go out to the back veranda overlooking the sea. The sun is starting to set, early dusk painting the sky. 

“The others should be home soon. They were helping down at the docks today,” Omega says.

“Who’s making dinner tonight?” Echo asks, sitting down at the table. 

Omega grins, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Don’t worry, it’s not Hunter.” 

“Thank the force,” Echo sighs. 

“Is he really that bad?” Rex asks. 

Echo nods. 

Omega makes a face but says, graciously, “He’s…learning.” 

They hear the Batch returning before they see them. While Rex can’t make out distinct words, the carefree contentment in their voices is tangible. He glances at Echo, catching his brother’s eye. Echo smiles, and Rex suddenly understands why he had him come: so he can see for himself that what they are still fighting for can end like this.

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“I trust I’m not interrupting anything…” Tech’s voice held the faintest touch of impatience as he called from just beyond the portcullis, and I felt myself tense at the sound; at the knowledge of just how uncertain things yet stood between us, “especially given the potential for aggravating possible head trauma.” Echo didn’t miss the sudden stiffness of my shoulders, embrace tightening in silent reassurance before reluctantly stepping back and turning an unamused glare upward as the door slid open.

“Ah. Good.” The brilliant man stated, and neither of us missed the audible discomfort in those short words. I didn’t try to look toward him, tongue slipping over my lips as a barely suppressed anxiety danced beneath my skin like an itch willing my limbs to fidget, but Echo’s taste still lingered, rich and warm, and that realization was a more welcomed distraction than I could ever find words for.

“While I don’t doubt your capabilities under normal circumstances, I don’t feel it appropriate to self-diagnose when your mental faculties could be impaired.” He continued after descending the ladder, and I belatedly drew a breath to try to answer, straining to keep from wondering if he noticed the undeniable disarray of Echo’s armor from my wandering hands, how unkempt our hair had become, and how our lips were still swollen from heated kisses, but that fear delayed my response just a beat too long, and the doubt that stole through him sent something sharp twisting through my chest.

“Unless… you’d prefer we summon a 501st medic…?” He offered, head lowering ever so slightly. I saw the confusion in Echo’s eyes as he glanced between us and felt another pang of that anxiety. Of course, Echo didn’t know why such tension lingered between his brother and I; he didn’t know about the harshness of Tech’s tone during our flight to the Resolute; the way I’d been alienated from our squad in the aftermath of his illness; not the details, at least.

“No.” I said, cringing at the almost meek hush stifling the word, and I quickly cleared my throat to try again. “No, it’s… You’re right, and I think this is something best kept between us.” I added with a small grimace, loathing the thought of how such a discussion might escalate if Kix found out what happened… When… Kriff, he probably already knew – had probably heard a retelling of the entire fight from one of the regs who’d seen… but that was a problem I’d deal with later. For now, I glanced toward Tech with a fresh flare of that nervousness. “If… if you don’t mind…?”

His shoulders sank at the way my voice dropped into something too near a mumble, but he merely responded with an almost gentle, “of course.”

“Ev?” Echo whispered, and my heart jumped as he shifted toward me, at the subtle way he just barely leaned between me and Tech, brows drown together in a hesitant frown. In a moment of boldness, I reached out to slide my fingers through his, but that frown didn’t waver as I drew his hand up to press softly against my lips, offering him a smile that couldn’t quite reach my eyes.

“It’s alright.” I murmured before turning and starting up the ladder. It wasn’t until I reached the top, door hissing shut behind me that he spoke up, quiet but stern.

“What the kriff was that?” He nearly growled. Tech was silent for a moment, and I told myself I wasn’t eavesdropping despite how my breath stilled, steps softening, slowing.

“I may have… reacted poorly earlier…” Despite the memory of how I’d broken as he’d shied from my touch, despite the hurt that lingered from his earlier anger, his disdain that would take far more than a murmured apology to heal from, despite how unsure I was toward where we stood with one another, still my heart melted at the troubled tone sinking through his words, the hint of something that wasn’t quite confusion though was too soft to be frustration. I could so clearly picture the little crease between his brows and how it would make his goggles shift ever so slightly as his gaze turned blindly toward the ground, mind working through whatever left him so troubled.

“Suppose that’s probably my fault, too?” I almost missed Echo’s reply, his voice dropping, torn between annoyance and guilt in a way that left my breath catching, muscles taut with the threat of turning around, of retracing my steps until I could trap him in my arms once more.

“Your actions, or inaction as it were, certainly contributed… but, no.” Tech answered with a slow sigh. There was a pause, and I wondered if his lips were shifting with some further explanation he was still at war with. It was only when I heard that first step climbing up the ladder that I even noticed how I’d leaned toward them, desperately trying to catch every word, and my chest jerked with a sharp gasp, adrenaline darting through my veins as I quickly turned back and sped through the cabin as fast as I could, footsteps carefully silenced lest he hear me and realize just how closely I’d been listening. As it was, I could only hope I’d made it through the adjacent doorway before he caught up with me and didn’t stop until I reached the medbay, heart pounding, but the instant I slid into that painfully familiar room, I froze.

A week. Had it really only been a week since I’d left, racing alongside Echo’s barely stable form to the far more capable facilities of the Resolute? It looked so paltry now. A single bed surrounded by cabinets with doors so askew and dented that it was wonder the contents didn’t tumble out at the first taste of turbulence. A single bed that had seen far too much pain… too much blood.

I couldn’t remember every drop of crimson that had been cleaned from a floor that was long since showing its abuse, tread worn nearly smooth underfoot, but I remembered enough. I remembered Crosshair’s shout as I’d dealt with that dangerous hematoma on his back. I remembered my horror that first moment I’d seen Wrecker, form beyond lean from a lifetime of starvation. I remembered how gently Echo touched me in the wake of that mercenary’s attack, and how gently I touched him in turn every time he came to me with aching muscles he couldn’t reach. I remembered how Tech had clung to me as his body seized and trembled beneath the crippling withdrawal from those wretched spores… and how he’d shied from me as though I were a stranger to him once more.

It was with that heaviness that I held myself still as the door opened, unable to turn to face him, unable to risk what I might see when he looked at me.

“Doc?” He called, pausing just outside that open doorway. “Are you… alright?” My chest shook with an inhale too sharp and jagged to fully silence, head dropping but still refusing to glance toward him.

“Yeah.” I murmured, the word hushed with a discomfort I couldn’t begin to hide. Jaw grinding, I stepped closer to the bed, allowing a hand to rest idly atop the dark sheet though I made no move to sit. “This… isn’t a complicated examination.” I continued quietly, “It’s okay if you’d prefer one of the others do it – Hunter or Echo both have the knowl-”

“Evelyn.” I’d never heard him call my name like that, elegant voice dropping into a whisper that sent a shiver lighting up my spine. It left me paralyzed as he stepped lightly around me, not feigning even an illusion of ignorance toward how near to me he stood, and I tried to ignore the sudden stiffness in my throat.

“If I may,” he paused for only the briefest of moments, allowing just enough time for me to object if I wanted… but of course, I remained silent, waiting with every sliver of patience I could find in hopes of gaining even a trace of understanding. “I’m afraid I… appear to have made things worse earlier… and I assure you that was not my intent.” My lip ached from how it ground between my teeth as I struggled to draw a steady breath.

“You don’t have to explain, Tech.” I murmured, words almost rushed. “You don’t owe me an explanation for why something makes you uncomfortable, and I-”

“Evelyn.” He pressed, head ducking down in a silent plea for me to meet his gaze. I nearly denied him, nearly found the strength to refuse that I might be spared the pain of everything I so feared to see in those brilliant eyes. But I couldn’t... not when he called my name so softly. Defeat cloying through my chest, bracing for a rejection I hadn’t even allowed myself to pretend I could endure, I reluctantly looked up, and the weight that rested atop his shoulders was far more crippling to witness than it might have been to carry myself.

“My earlier reaction wasn’t caused by any… aversion to you. I recognized the likely trajectory in how the squad’s dynamic was changing and had hoped to avoid contributing to an already complex situation.” It almost sounded like an apology, but my thoughts were spiraling too much to make sense of it, something between hesitation and confusion drawing a faint divot between my brows.

“You…” I started, the sound barely stumbling over my tongue as I worked back through his every word for some deeper meaning. “You don’t need a reason to not want to-” I wasn’t trying to argue; I wanted only to give him an out, to avoid assumptions that might result in furthering the discomfort I thought I’d caused, but the way his expression softened left the words falling silent, and when his hand slowly reached for me, fingers delicately sliding around mine to pull the limb toward him, I found myself freezing, eyes locked on his as he seemed to study every movement, every sliver of where his skin touched mine as he thoughtlessly pressed against the little notch just beneath the pad of my thumb, counting my too-quick pulse without further preface or comment.

“Given recent events, I’m inclined to dismiss your tachycardia, but I would advise you avoid further stress or strenuous activity for at least 72 hours.” There was a brief moment where my cheeks only darkened at the implication, but the bark of laughter that followed held no shame nor anxiety or doubt, because the only thing I could be certain of was just how stressful the coming days were all but guaranteed to be. He seemed to pause, taken aback by the outburst, but then the ridiculousness of his own statement dawned on him, shoulders dropping with a sigh just softened by the hint of a smirk toying with his lips, and I could have sobbed at the sight of it.

“Perhaps…” His gaze dropped slightly as he continued, voice lowering into something not quite a whisper but too gentle for anything else, “I can be of assistance in… alleviating some of that stress?” My eyes instantly snapped up to his, body freezing as my heart jumped, mind both racing and utterly empty as I tried to guess his meaning, but the way his lips tensed, drawing back from that little smirk into something far more nervous, I felt myself hesitate.

“There was no… safe way to handle this situation.” It felt like I couldn’t breathe as I listened, waiting, hoping for the answers I’d been desperate for for what felt like hours now. “Above all, we agreed that your comfort needed to be our priority, thus any discussion that might result in, well, putting you in an uncomfortable situation was unanimously discouraged; however, we also acknowledged the harm in keeping such knowledge from you.” I watched the hint of a scowl twist his face just enough for his goggles to shift, annoyed at the conflicting truths that had clearly tortured him over the last several months, and I struggled with how to respond; how to balance a sympathy and want to grant freedom from that frustration, not just for him but for myself as well, with the still prominent hurt that something so profound had been kept from me when they knew how cruel that had been.

“Approximately 78% of known sentient life participates in polygamy.” The words could so easily have found themselves in any one of his endless rants, spoken absent care or thought toward how such a fact might let the mind wander, but that analytical detachment wasn't there now… It was spoken with a nervousness that was so foreign to him. “Despite this majority, the practice is still met with heavy societal stigmas ranging from dismissal or disapproval to extreme disgust, discouraging many from speaking openly about it.” His thumb tapped softly against my wrist, a gentle ticking that I wasn’t sure he even realized he was doing.

“If the offer was presented, and such an… unconventional dynamic didn't align with your preferences, it would likely have resulted in expounding negative consequences even if we attempted to maintain a solely platonic friendship.” That frown deepened, thumb nearly fluttering now. “I suggested Crosshair discuss the possibility with you on Scarif as he was in the best position to speak with you in a manner that would grant insight without causing excess concern…” I needed only a moment to remember; the beach, the fallout after I’d… rescued Echo from that mercenary… how new and tentative my relationship with Crosshair was and the insecurities that came with, and I couldn’t help but scoff.

“I imagine he loved that idea…” The way his attention shifted back to me held such a strange familiarity, and it didn’t take long to realize why.

“Actually,” He corrected, “Crosshair was agreeable.” I was so stunned by his words that I barely had time to process them before he continued. “Even he couldn’t deny the detriment in allowing things to continue as they were.” It felt like the air had been ripped from my lungs, confusion warring with the objection twitching atop my tongue.

“But then you were summoned by the 104th.” He explained, voice dropping, and I tried not to show the rush of ice that flooded my chest at the mere thought. “And circumstances have not improved since then, certainly not for such a delicate topic.” I went quiet, and I knew he could tell the difference between this silence and the last, I could hear it in how careful he was to soften his breath, gaze studying me with a knowing tension.

“And now?” I finally asked, all but ignoring the cause for that tension as I subtly pulled my shoulders back, forcing my spine straight once more. “You all clearly spent quite a bit of time discussing this whenever I was out of earshot.” I blamed the adrenaline for how my voice twisted slightly with something too angry to be called frustration but too weary to be rage. “Is the plan for me to… rotate whose bed I sleep in?” I blamed the dread that still lingered in the mere memories of that decrepit cell for how my skin crawled beneath his touch. “Have you already worked out a schedule?” Still, I blamed myself for the hurt in his eyes as his grip tightened in the split second before he released me.

“Ah, I… No.” It was rare for even that brief stutter to rob his eloquent voice of the confidence usually so ingrained in his every word. “I do not believe such a sudden transition would be… comfortable for any of us.” I saw the way his chest stiffened around breaths now far less controlled, fingers clenching in an almost anxious rhythm at his sides as his gaze darted from the cabinets to the bed to anywhere but me, and a shaky, hurried breath fled me in a sharp sigh.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, hand reaching up to rub harshly at my eyes as I forced myself in check. “That was uncalled for.” He merely watched as I took a tiny step back, arms shifting to wrap nervously around myself. “This is just… It’s a lot, and I… don’t know… what to expect, what to – how to think or…” I let out an almost growled breath, annoyed with how I stumbled over the words.

“Evelyn…” It wasn’t that gentle, imploring murmur. His voice now held a confusion of his own, like he was preparing to say something he’d presumed obvious. “Your relationship with one of us does not define your relationship with all of us, and vise versa.” My eyes snapped back to his, freezing as he spoke, attention suddenly hanging on his every word. “As I understand it, all that’s changed is an agreement that should something develop beyond your current relationship with Crosshair, and now Echo, then there would be no offense from pre-existing partners.”

I blinked, stunned into a very different silence as I thought over those words again. And again, unsure if I felt ashamed from how simple he made it seem or from how I’d let myself merely expect… what? For there to suddenly be something intimate and personal with each of them in the midst of a day? That I’d assumed they’d expect such things of me despite the constant displays of respect and affection they’d given me for over a year?

I still wasn’t sure what might happen when I walked out of the ship, when I eventually rejoined the others with the knowledge that I was allowed to want them… with the knowledge that they wanted me, too… but hearing him say it like that, knowing now, that what might happen was a matter of potential rather than expectation, it shifted such a crippling weight from my shoulders that I couldn’t silence the way my breath fled me in a shaky rush, and the way Tech mirrored me with a little sigh of his own was just enough to ease my lips into a faint smile.

“While I agree that this is a topic in need of a much more in-depth discussion,” he started, voice just soft enough to draw my gaze back to his, “I really must insist on allowing me to, at the very least, scan you for potential intercranial swelling.” The breathy chuckle that left me was far more unsteady than I’d expected, and the flare of alarm that shot through him only pulled another bout of quiet laughter from me.

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“I thought it was too late.” He admitted, head dropping slightly, though he didn’t pull away, still resting on a knee before me as he gently touched his brow to mine. “Figured you’d… That I’d pushed too far…” It was such a rare, devastating thing to hear that doubt in his voice, “That I’d pushed you away.” My heart stuttered at that quiet admission, and my every fiber screamed to fix it, to chase all whisper of that doubt from him, but this was too important to yield beneath that want for peace.

“I thought you were trying to push me away.” The horror that shot through him as he finally met my eyes nearly wrenched the air from my lungs, but I held myself still, needing him to understand how his silence had hurt me, how their secrets had led to this, “I thought you didn’t trust me, and you wanted to... end things on your terms.” I didn’t allow him enough time to recover, to form a reply before adding in something too close to a mumble, “Which, apparently, wasn’t as farfetched of an accusation as I thought it was…”

His hands drew back to just whisper against my jaw, expression turning somber in a way that made me pause, holding my breath to better hear what he might say.

“It’s… complicated.” He grumbled, earning a weary huff from me, but he merely shifted to nuzzle his lips against my neck before continuing. “Sharing you with the others… It’s different than if it was with anyone else… with a reg.” My stomach leapt at hearing him say it so bluntly, that fluttering of wings within my chest nearly making me gasp, but the way he snarled that last word brought me back. I knew he meant Jester, but that wasn’t who came to my mind amidst the face of his rage.

“And Echo…?” I pressed, words direct though my tone softened in a plea to really talk about this; to keep from falling into defensive posturing and inevitable frustration, and, at the way his shoulders tensed, jaw grinding as he fell silent for a long moment, I feared it would come to exactly that, but then he drew a deep, slow breath and held it for a beat. Two. Three, and then released it.

“I overreacted with Echo.” He admitted, voice low, reluctant, and I was too stunned to react, eyes wide, but then a laughter escaped me that was so sudden, so impossibly light, that he could only stare before letting out a scoffed chuckle of his own.

“I thought you were trying to kill him!” I retorted.

“I was.” His answer only made me laugh harder. It was senseless. And what he’d done warranted a far longer conversation, but I needed to laugh at it, needed to regard all of this with anything other than the hurt and blame that could so easily have sent us all spiraling even further.

“That’s more than an overreaction, Crosshair!” His lips bunched at my scolding. Still, he didn’t try to shrug my arms from where they yet lay about his shoulders, nor did his own touch weaken as he rolled his eyes, but then he leaned even closer, chest tightening slightly as his words fell into a mournful whisper.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He secreted the words against my neck, slitted gaze staring blindly at the slowly darkening bruise but careful to avoid my eyes. “And then Echo… Felt like that proved it.” There was no embarrassment in it, no blame. There was only a deep, resigned sorrow that threatened to ruin me anew. Movements languid, as though he might feel how my hands delighted in that closeness despite the heavy plastoid between us, I leaned back, fingers tracing the elegant lines of his chestplate as I robbed him of the safety in that proximity, of that obscurity in hiding too near to truly see.

“Ask me.” It was an invitation rather than an order, but it held the same weight. Still, his brows hitched, the barest glimmers of a cocky smirk toying with his lips.

“I think you’ve already answered that pretty clearly.” He hummed, body curling closer to mine with a spark of that breathtaking glee nearly hidden beneath a far safer hunger, but my hands held firm, forbidding him from crossing that precious little distance, from avoiding this, and an unspoken understanding chased that mirth from his face, leaving something far quieter in its wake. His jaw shifted behind closed lips, as though tasting each word before letting himself speak.

There was a pause, just a fleeting, terrifying handful of seconds. His eyes fled mine, dropping to where my scarcely packed bag lay forgotten at our feet, contents half scattered where it fell, and I could feel the tension in his muscles, how near he was to pushing himself up and simply walking away. I wondered what mocking comment might drip from his tongue as he denied me, dismissed the entirety of this mess in favor of the simplicity I’d robbed from him.

But then those eyes flicked back up to me, sharp and merciless and so desperate to hide the fear in them.

“Do you,” He finally asked, “still want me?” It wasn’t a whisper, but he couldn’t seem to keep his voice from dropping, nearly squirming beneath how that question tore far too deeply through him to manage anything more, and I found myself reaching up for his hand, fingers threading through his as my breath threatened to falter, loathing that he’d ever felt the need to doubt such things even as my heart soared at this moment of vulnerability he was giving me.

“Yes.” I promised; begged; gaze unwavering with a plea for him to believe me, and I shifted, dragging his palm up to press my lips against it. “There’s… a lot we need to work on… both of us… but, I want you, Crosshair.” I lived for the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as I pressed the words into his skin between barely-there kisses, between tiny hitches in my breath as my other hand reached for him as well, cradling his with a touch far too desperate to be gentle. “I’ll always want you.”

 His thumb traced precious nothings atop my skin, and I shuddered at the way the nerves trilled with glee, static following in his wake in some vain plea to remember that feeling even if only for a heartbeat longer. Still, that tender caress couldn’t keep my own doubts at bay forever, couldn’t silence the reason my mind rebelled relentlessly against this despite how I craved to feign ignorance to the dangers looming so obviously before us.

“But… Cross,” this time, it was my turn to hide, almost shielding myself behind our interwoven hands. “are you really okay with this?” I hadn’t begun to work through my own feelings about… ‘us’ becoming far more complicated, but none of that mattered if any of them held even a glimmer of reservation.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a squad has shared.” That teasing drawl slid back into his seductive rasp, and I couldn’t fight the little thrill it sent dancing about my chest, but I managed to meet his smirk with an unimpressed glare. He let out a slow, almost impatient breath. “I’m sure there’ll be some… adjusting.” He added in a low grumble, and my own doubt resurfaced.

“How do I do this?” I barely breathed it, shoulders hitching about my neck as my heartbeat quickened. “I don’t want you to feel like you aren’t enough…” His own breath caught, and I could see how that fear resonated with him, and the odd calm that followed in merely hearing me say it. He offered no feigned smile, no cocky retort as he leaned forward to rest his brow to mine once more, words a hushed promise against my lips.

“We’ll figure it out.” There was a confidence in that soft murmur that I wanted to doubt; I wanted to scream the simple fact that such a vague reassurance was nowhere near enough to soothe the endless insecurities bubbling up inside me. But I did believe it. I believed him, and the comfort that belief gave me left the air fluttering passed my lips in a shaky breath, terrified of the hope it brought. So, I kissed him. I kissed him because I was afraid, but I trusted him; because I wanted to be ashamed but wasn’t, Because, more than that fear and doubt and shame, I wanted this. I wanted him. And Echo… Hunter… Kriff, how far would this go?

“You might want to start with the arc.” He added, lips just hinting at his usual scowl as he pulled away almost too soon, eyes nearly rolling as he added, “Tech’s going to be pissed if he breaks those new legs from all the pacing he was doing…”

It had been a slow thing; growing some sliver of acceptance between the 99 and what few legions we frequented, an acceptance initially enforced more by their leaders than any sense of brotherhood, though some had finally begun to see passed idiotic excuses to alienate and mock. As Crosshair and I made our way back through the Resolute, however, the berth regs gave us as we passed, the way they avoided nearly the entire quadrant of the hanger housing the Marauder screamed that any such familiarity was forfeit, and my stomach ached at the knowledge that I’d shared more than a small portion of the blame for that.

Some semblance of a desk had been thrown together near the ramp where Tech seemed to be tooling about with cables of something I was almost certain hadn’t come from our ship. Wrecker sat with his back resting against one of crates holding his brother’s make-shift workshop, expression sullen as he spoke in a voice far too quiet to be heard across the half-dozen meters separating us, and I felt a flutter of doubt that nearly left me nauseous. I was walking into this with no idea what to say; what to assume about the near useless hints Hunter had given me; where I might be overthinking things, overstepping, versus what might be seen as playing dumb and avoiding emotions now believed to be obvious.

Crosshair must have noted the tiny hesitation in my stride, gaze shifting toward me, but before he could speak, Hunter stepped out from the cabin doorway, eyes instantly locking on mine with a look of such stunned surprise that it should have left me laughing, and yet I found myself frozen, some voice screaming in the back of my mind that I’d already mistaken everything, and now it was too late to take it back. But then I watched his shoulders fall with a sigh of relief deep enough to catch his brothers’ attention, watched the tentative but earnest beginnings of a smile wash over him, and the way that smile sent my heart jumping nearly blinded me to the equally surprised looks from Wrecker and Tech.

“Told yuh he’d-” Whatever Wrecker was about to say ended in a huffed chuckle as Tech slammed his hip roughly against the larger man’s shoulder. My cheeks burned as I quickly made my way toward the ramp, leaving Crosshair back with the others. Another rush of heat and static danced through my chest as I met Hunter’s gaze, fighting back the flurry of questions, of possibilities and thoughts I’d pushed down for so long now dangling painfully within reach.

“Is Echo…?” I asked quietly, calmly; as though there was some chance he hadn’t noticed the frantic thudding of my pulse.

“Inside.” He nodded toward the cockpit, shifting to take a half-step back so I could pass by him more easily. I started to move, but paused, unsure if there was something more I should say; unsure where to start, but he merely nodded again with a smile far too gentle for the frenzy warring within me. Still, I didn’t waste the excuse to continue forward, unsure if I was rushing toward Echo or running from Hunter, but both granted an almost crippling cocktail of anxiety and confusion and want.

The Marauder was quiet beyond the muffled voices from outside as Hunter joined his brothers. I almost paused, desperate to hear them, to steal what knowledge I could between low chuckles rich with a lightness I hadn’t heard from them in far too long, but I didn’t. It didn’t feel right. And whatever secrets they shared, they owed to me to say to my face. Soon. But Crosshair was right. I couldn’t let Echo continue torturing himself over what happened… nor would I let him find some way to hide from me again.

He wasn’t pacing when I reached the entry into the cockpit. If Hunter hadn’t said otherwise, I might have believed the ship to be empty, but then I started down the ladder, and there was no doubting the source of the impatient, growled sigh that greeted me.

“Haar’chak, Hunter!” I froze at the venom in his voice, one foot still on the ladder for a half-beat before taking that final step, “for the last time, take your damn advice and nar’sh-!”

“Oh?” I refused to acknowledge the reason my heart was pounding, why my eyes were locked so pointedly on the back of the chair where the arc sat almost fully hidden from view, nor the way my body tensed at how quickly he leapt to his feet, those new legs nearly tangling beneath him as he spun around to face me in a flurry of panic I knew too well. “What advice has Hunter been giving you?”

Another day, his reaction may have left me laughing, but not now. Not for this. Not when the dread in his eyes only grew the longer he stared at me, like each beat of silence screamed anew of the terrible distance between us. I hated it; hated that my presence left him so disjointed; that this man who’d been trained to survive the impossible, who’d lived through unspeakable horrors and not only found the strength to keep fighting but did so without losing the warmth in his smile now stared at me like I was something to be feared. I hated that he’d been reduced to this speechless visage of taut muscles and held breath at the mere sight of me when I’d spent months yearning for just a glimpse of the fondness he’d once regarded me with.

My chest hitched slightly, jaw snapping shut as I let my gaze fall lest he see some trace of unshed tears.

“I thought…” I started, but had to pause to swallow back the stiffness in my throat before trying again. “I thought we could try this whole… talking thing again.” Still, I could hear the grief cloying my voice, and it only made it harder to risk looking at him. So I didn’t. Nor did I bother pretending my averted gaze was some subtle mercy to grant him an illusion of privacy. I just couldn’t stand to see him looking at me with that fear, that regret.

He let out a ragged breath, knuckles cracking from how tightly his fingers clenched.

“Look, I didn’t… I – kriff…” He stammered, hand reaching up to drag through his hair, absently working over his temples before letting the limb drop heavily back to his side. “I – I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t.” I shouldn’t have said it; shouldn’t have risked manipulating his thoughts toward any of this with such a pitiful plea, but I couldn’t take the hurt of hearing him say he hadn’t meant it; that the possibilities I’d only just begun to entertain, to let myself hope for, were gleaned from simple misunderstanding.

“After... after all that… which part are you apologizing for?” There was such a faint hint of accusation in those words, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to lean harder into a rage that would only leave me cold, or if there was some point in pretending that exasperation was born of anything more than my own self-doubt. I found myself falling somewhere in-between; drowning in anger and sorrow and guilt as months of denial and hiding, of empty pretense and suppressed desires trapped behind good intentions finally lay exposed, raw and real and veiled only in the silence stretching out between halted breaths.

And he said nothing, chest tight though his shoulders seemed to hang listless amidst the weight of an answer he knew he didn’t need to voice, and that was what finally sparked an earnest flare of fury absent any trace of that earlier hesitation. I deserved an answer, dammit…

“You lied to me; stole from me; you lied to your brothers; you put every one of us in danger, and I still almost l-” The word shattered as a sob finally broke through. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, head bowed as he merely listened, as he let himself bear the brunt of my rage even as it tore at my heart with the same merciless hurt as it did his.

“I almost had to take more of your legs, Echo.” I barely whispered it, knowing the horror those words brought me, however crippling it might be, was nothing compared to how they’d haunt him, how his body nearly flinched from muscles locking taut, brows pinching above eyes that still refused to meet mine. “I should have… It was… it was a stupid risk not to, and I should never have been put in that position.” I tried to cling to that anger… tried to blame him, but I could see the heaviness of it all threatening to crush him; the guilt, the fear… the realization of just how close he’d come to losing even more of himself… and I felt how near I was to that same flurry of emotion, because logic would never be enough to free me of the blame curling around my heart, reminding me that he’d only isolated himself like that because of me, because of the choices that I’d made and the distance they created between us, a distance I’d done nothing to heal.

But now, through accident and impulse, we stood atop a cliff-face, toeing the edge, begging the other to be the first to jump, and I couldn’t deny the way my heart ached beneath the fear that, after everything that had finally brought us to this moment, he might yet refuse me.

“Why did you kiss me, Echo?” It sounded broken, torn between denial and mourning as my gaze fell, awaited the fall of the executioner’s axe. I didn’t see the stillness settle over him, the hesitation before he drew a carefully slowed, silent breath.

“You know why.” It wanted to be a growl, but he kept his voice almost painfully flat, even; and I wanted to scream.

“Clearly, I don’t!” The words were harsh, shattered beneath a grief too raw to keep locked away any longer, tears finally trailing down my face as my eyes snapped up to find him standing so impossibly still before me, the co-pilot’s seat unapologetic as it loomed between us. But I saw the tension yet held in his stance, the subtle downward tug of lips and brow as though bracing for some punishment I was suddenly afraid might retch from me amidst too many emotions and sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

“I came here… I… dammit, I don’t know what I was expecting!” I sobbed, “But it sure as hell wasn’t to see you look at me like…” I couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit how his earlier fear had wounded me, how it seemed like he’d already accepted that he’d never see me again, my arms locking around my chest as though it might ease the agony tearing through me. “Why… Why did you kiss me?” But then he answered me. And I froze.

“Because I wanted to.” He replied, and there was a shift in his stance; so subtle, I nearly missed it. But his shoulders seemed broader; his eyes darker, and I felt my heart jump at the sight of it. “Because I’ve wanted to since that skanah mercenary laid his damn hands on you and you still trusted me enough to let me help.” Now, he was growling. “Since I first heard you laugh at those stories about Fives.” Walking forward with such perfectly even strides; slow, not to give me time to run, but to savor the sight of my breath quickening, deepening with every step. “Since that day I woke up with you in my arms like you’d always belonged there.” Until mere inches separated us as he towered over me. “I’ve wanted to for so long… and I thought I’d never get another chance. That's why I kissed you.”

I should have been afraid. I should have remembered how easily he’d overpowered me in the midst of his illness; how he’d hurt me. But I looked up at those pale-gold eyes, at pupils blown wide with hunger, at skin now boasting a warm hue rather than the unnatural paleness of when I’d met him, at hair delightfully messy, the sides overgrown just enough to curl and ruin the normally neat fohawk; at lips parted ever so slightly, teasing the memory of his taste.

“Why didn't you kiss me sooner?” I could feel the heat of his breath as he stood before me, body curling subtly around mine.

“A lot of reasons. None of them good.” He murmured, eyes flicking to my lips though he held himself so carefully still.

“Why aren't you kissing me now?” I asked, voice a barely-there whisper and invitation and plea, but he didn't rush forward like I thought he would, like I hoped he would, instead weighing my question carefully before answering.

“Because, if I kiss you again, I'm not going to stop.” It was a threat as much as it was a promise, footsteps silent as he inched closer still, just enough to make the rear wall of the cockpit press against my back.

“Good.” I was moving before the absently mumbled word fully escaped me, hands locking around his jaw, fingers tangling into the satin curls just escaping the lower edge of his cybernetic, practicality and boundaries and logic forgotten as he met me with the same fire. No. Not forgotten. Ignored. Intentional and willful and eagerly ignored as his arm locked around my lower back, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that left me gasping as he shamelessly pressed himself against me, breastplate nearly bruising my chest, scomp sliding around my waist, caging me.

To call it a kiss was far too tame. He devoured me, lips and jaw and body all moving in a hypnotic rhythm, as his hand abandoned my hip to drag up my spine, touch firm, unrepentant of how my shirt caught on fingertips digging in to my back, my shoulders, practically wrenching me away from the wall solely so he could pull me closer.

I’d tried not to wonder, not to imagine and dream… but when idle thoughts turned to fantasies I’d pretended not to have, I’d presumed Echo to be… gentle… soft. I’d envisioned hesitant touches and frequent glances seeking reassurance. But reality burned far hotter. He didn’t hesitate because the moan that caught in my throat screamed my consent louder than any murmured permissions, because there was no misunderstanding why my body arched so willingly into his, and whatever timidness might have subdued his hunger was forfeit after so many months of stifled want.

My breath caught as his hand darted down to my thigh, his body bucking just enough to hoist me up so my legs might lock about his hips, and whatever objection I had was briefly lost in the rush of heat burning through those eyes as he looked at me with something far deeper than the lust I’d expected in that moment. Devotion. Adoration. An awe that left my cheeks burning and heart racing even more frantically. My arms looped around his shoulders with reverence of my own, the weight of shared breath hot and intoxicating between us as I held myself back a moment to savor this, smile just toying with my lips as he stretched forward to taste me again, though this time with some hint of a softness that sent a shiver dancing across my skin.

“Stay.” He whispered the word against me, like he was begging for his life rather than what few weeks I might have been gone.

“Everything’s going to get complicated…” I warned, though even I could hear how little resolve lingered in the words.

“I don’t care.” He panted, reaching up to kiss me once more, and, without bothering to pull back, repeated that little plea. “Stay.” I had to fight myself to pull back, lips still parted in an invitation I had only belatedly managed to stifle between ground teeth.

“No more hiding.” It wasn’t an order, but it was far from a request as I held his gaze, arms shifting to wrap almost covetously around his head that my fingers might toy with those soft, ebony curls. He didn’t respond immediately, and I loved him for it; for the show that he was really hearing me, thinking over my demand before answering with a slow nod, and I thanked him with another kiss, forehead resting lightly against his as I tried to gather my thoughts enough to voice them.

“And this… me and… and the others…” I still tripped over the words, still struggled with the very concept of it, though he didn’t so much as flinch, “Promise me you’ll tell me if… if something’s wrong… Talk to me instead of...”

“Instead of fighting it out with Crosshair?” He offered, and I could hear that little smirk, could feel the tiny huff of laughter, but his smile only grew as I shot him a glare.

“I promise.” He agreed in such a soft murmur, I couldn’t help but melt against him, body curling around his before kissing him once more, and I relished the way he relaxed beneath my touch, that hunger quieted that we might simply enjoy this moment for what it was: permission to feel without shame, to want without guilt, and to hold without doubt, because there wasn’t room for such things amidst the relief and joy in how his lips danced against mine, the warmth of his arms around me and mine around him, the comfort I’d feared forever lost to us settling gently about the silence that no longer felt heavy or strained.

“And Echo?” I whispered his name against his lips almost reluctantly, allowing myself just one more second of that kiss as he hummed back. “If you tore open those ulcers again, I’m going to break my vow to do no harm.” His laughter was almost worth all the stress that had brought us here.

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“We’re not going to let something like this happen again.” The deep quiet in his whispered promise was so displaced against that frightful anger that I couldn’t help but look up to see the perfect stillness in those amber eyes; the conviction burning through his every word as the man I’d come to treasure for his gentleness suddenly embodied the powerful visage of the GAR’s most elite soldiers. It was easy to forget the simple fact that he’d earned his title of arc trooper; that the exceptional strength of his towering form was merely a small part in what made him such a dangerous force, but, in that moment, I could see a determination in those eyes that only a fool would doubt, and, for the first time in days, I felt safe.

My gaze fell away at the hiss of the medbay door sliding open. Stepping away from him, I ambled numbly about the room to gather my supplies, dreading the crash I knew would hit me mercilessly after smearing that blue gel over my wounds. At the first hitch of breath from abused muscles balking beneath the weight of a tube of bacta, Echo quickly stepped forward to take it from me, hand only just whispering against mine to ease the thick container from my grasp.

“Just tell me what else you need.” He said softly. Maker, I hated this… I’d sprinted through waves of enemy fire carrying over half my body weight in gear to reach wounded soldiers, but, in that moment, I couldn’t manage even retrieving my own damn bacta… Motioning vaguely toward the handful of supplies I’d already gathered, I managed a small shrug.

“That’s probably it, I think.” The words felt so small, and I found myself cringing at the mere sound of them. Tomorrow… Tomorrow I would force that bouncing smile back in place. Tomorrow I would remember every horror I’d faced and conquered. Tomorrow I would remember that I was strong, and I’d find a way to draw back my shoulders and plant my feet beneath me so I could stand tall beside these amazing soldiers – these amazing men… but, as I felt his hand settle gently against my back, I had to grant myself permission to be weak, if only for that night, and, amidst the quiet concern and utter lack of judgement from the man beside me, I found some way to forgive myself for it.

“I’m guessing most of the bruises aren’t just on your face.” He started tentatively, and a small huff left me at the quiet apology in his hinted words, head just shifting in a brief nod. “Are you okay with me helping you? I could get you a blanket – something to help keep you covered.” There was that gentleness I so loved him for; somehow finding a way to draw a small smile to my lips even through the haze of emotion that had robbed me of my strength and left me so deathly tired.

“It’s fine, Echo.” I breathed, shooting him a ragged shadow of a smirk. “Not like I don’t have a breastband on. Plus, medic school has a way of stripping people of that kind of shame.” He let out a knowing chuckle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had similar experiences from his arc training. Still, when I reached up to undo the clasp at my neck, he turned away in some instinctual offer for privacy.

My fond smile lasted just until I’d begun rolling the skin-tight material up my chest, muscles seizing at the movement. Gritting my teeth against the unavoidable hurt, my hand tightened around the black fabric, scowling with the effort to push through the sharp pain tearing through my back and shoulder as I strained to silence the tiny hitches in my breath, the whimper I only just managed to choke back until finally caving, body trembling against the exhaustion and pain and blinding frustration.

“Echo,” his name left my lips in a quiet plea, “um… could you… I seem to be struggling a bit with this damn skinsuit.” He hesitated only a moment before turning back to me, brows just tensing above the darkness that filled those gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed softly, “turn around.” With a slow breath, I turned my back to him, absently reaching out to steady myself against the ledge of the counter. Still, I couldn’t fight back the way my body tensed at the first brush of his hand over the strip of exposed skin at my waist. “Sorry – hand’s probably cold.” He murmured, pausing only briefly in a silent offer for me to pull away.

“Actually, cold sounds pretty nice right now.” I whispered despite the way my body already shook, but the thought of that cold touch against the swollen and bruised skin just hidden by the thin layer of cloth promised a comfort I couldn’t help but crave; a balm to sooth the heat collected in mistreated flesh. Reassured I hadn’t changed my mind, Echo carefully slipped his thumb between the sensitive skin and the bottom hem of my shirt, movements impossibly gentle as he wedged the fabric up an inch at a time, shifting smoothly from side to side.

I knew exactly what he saw that made him suddenly freeze, heard the screaming absence of breath as the air staled in his lungs; felt the way his eyes burred into the mass of dark purple just beneath my rib. Without a word, his touch dragged across my back to push the shirt up just that much more, and he released a tense, shaking exhale. Movements softening into something that threatened to break me, he continued so slowly, I barely felt him until his fingers only just whispered against my neck to grip the bundle as he stepped quietly around me. I fought to hide the grimace twisting over my lips as I tried to move my arms enough to help him slip the garment over my head, but his quiet words quickly stilled that futile effort.

“I’ve got it.” Even that brief attempt to force such a simple movement left me struggling beneath gritted teeth and too-quick breaths, but that didn’t matter when I saw the ice in Echo’s carefully blank expression, eyes studying each mark of that man’s fury marring my chest, the vivid outlines of his hands clearly defined in nearly black shades of purple along my arms and across my throat just beneath where the neckline of my shirt had been, before finally settling on the ruin of my face.

The horrified rage that kept fighting to wrench his expression into a scowl left me frozen, guilt twisting through my chest. I should have just done this myself – should have taken care of it days ago so they never found out to begin with. The tiny tremor in his hand as he reached for me broke my heart, and I couldn’t bring myself to even breathe as his fingers fluttered across my ruined cheek almost too softly for me to feel before carefully slipping around the back of my neck. With such painstaking care, he lowered his forehead to just settle against mine, and I felt the way he shook beneath each purposefully regulated breath, eyes clenching shut against some fleeting struggle for control, and I couldn’t stay silent in the wake of his hurt.

“Hey… I’m okay.” I don’t think I believed those words until I found myself needing to breathe them into the shuddering air trapped between us. “I’m okay, Echo.” My hands moved on their own to whisper softly over the trembling muscle straining against his jaw. “I’m okay.” Only after several more strained breaths did he finally pull back, hand lingering on my neck for just a moment longer as his eyes locked onto mine with a sorrow and guilt that sent tears clawing up my throat. With a final, sharp sigh, he tore his gaze away, stepping back to reach for the tube of bacta.

He couldn’t seem to bring himself to meet my eyes again as he began meticulously covering each discolored patch of skin with that cool gel, touch such a gentle caress, I couldn’t help but find myself leaning into it. The few areas struck hard enough to split the skin, he carefully bandaged with textbook precision. After he tended to my back, I could have thanked him, relieved him of any obligation driving him to address each exposed patch of dark bruises in turn, but I knew that look in those haunted eyes. There was nothing he could do about what had happened, but, this, working to lessen the damage already done, this was with within his power, and it offered as much comfort to him as it did to me. So I stayed quiet, eyes watching the tender movements of his hand as he worked to remove even the memory of that man’s touch.

When he finally turned his ministrations to my face, that tension stole threw him anew. Lips just twitching into something that wanted to be a smile, I let my fingers brush over his wrist.

“It’s alright, Echo,” I promised gently, “you don’t have to-” but before I could finish, he silently raised his hand to the hard lump on the side of my jaw, guiding the clear blue gel carefully along the bruised skin of my cheek, over the painful gash on my lower lip, fingertips just tracing the swollen bridge of my nose. I let my eyes close as he circled the dark flesh surrounding my left eye, and didn’t notice the way my head began to sink forward until my name whispered gently over his lips.

Chest swelling with a nearly forgotten breath, I belated pushed myself back up, eyes reluctantly opening just enough to search for him. The worry pulling his pale face into the beginnings of a frown sent a flush of heat up my neck.

“I’m fine.” I assured him, though even I could hear the slight mumble in my words. “Side effect of using so much bacta.” A hum caught in my throat as I tried to blink away the haze of exhaustion. “And I haven’t… hmm… been a few days since I’ve been able to get much sleep.” His hand slipped carefully around my arm to steady me against the way my body had begun to sway, and I just noticed that tension steal back over him. Forcing some bit of alertness back into my faltering mind, I looked up at him; saw the way his attention had locked onto my hip, and I didn’t need to look to know he could see the outline of a thumb, that he knew the rest of the handprint wrapped around my waist just beneath the fabric.

“Unless you’re terribly eager to get me out of my pants, I think I can take care of the rest.” I whispered, pleased to hear that teasing lilt playing once more with my voice, and even the weak huff of a chuckle it drew from him was a balm to the terrible weight lingering between us. He glanced away from me a moment, jaw working over words he hadn’t yet managed to form before letting his gaze shift tentatively back to mine.

“Why don’t you take Hunter’s cot tonight?” He asked quietly, and I couldn’t hide my surprise at the offer. “He’s on watch for a while and…” The way his words stumbled over his tongue left me frozen, “I’d honestly just feel better if we can keep an eye on you.” A flush of color crept up his neck, silent plea screaming through those eyes. I didn’t answer for a moment, trying to come to terms with the idea, but I was too tired to grasp the thought for long. I just wanted to sleep; to be free of the wretched memory of that night. I didn’t realize how much I truly didn’t want to be alone until hearing the simple need in his words.

“If he doesn’t mind…” I replied hesitantly, failing to fully stifle the whisper of hope in my voice. A relieved smile flashed across his lips, shoulders straightening as he drew in a deep breath.

“I’ll talk to him to make sure. Finish up, and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” I gave a small nod, hands already reaching for the waistline of my pants as he turned to leave.

I barely remembered the automated motions of lathering those last few bruises hidden around my hips in bacta before stumbling to my personal locker, the way my hands fumbled with the far more forgiving fabric of my sleepwear; the moment my body tried to collapse, falling heavily against the wall as my balance failed me in a strained attempt to step into my shorts.

The distant call of my name sounded more like a memory than a voice, and it wasn’t until hearing the tap at the door that a hum caught in my throat in some useless attempt at a response, only catching a brief glimpse of Echo as the door hissed open before that merciless weight dragged against my eyelids, body slumping sideways. I didn’t hear the quick flurry of words as Echo darted across the room, but the flush of recognition was all I needed to melt into his touch as he quickly pulled me against him.

“Hey-hey; you still with me, Doc?” The warmth of his breath tickled across my scalp, mind begrudgingly working to find some meaning in his voice.

“Mhmm.” The grumble barely made it past my lips, feet belatedly shifting to find purchase beneath me.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, huh?” The warmth that touched his quiet murmur only further robbed me of any will to move, eagerly pressing further into him. “I know; that stuff can really take it out of you… Come on – just hold onto me, okay?” The world seemed to dance for a moment, wrenching some fleeting whisper of awareness back just enough to find the gentle concern in Echo’s eyes, and then nothing else mattered because I realized he was holding me.

“Echo.” His name stumbled over my lips, head wilting to rest thoughtlessly against his shoulder. “’m so tired.” I could feel his thumb brush softly over my arm as he started slowly through the ship.

“I know,” he breathed. “That’s good. You need to rest. We’ll keep watch.”

Body already rocking beneath the leisurely ebb and flow of exhaustion-dulled breaths, I managed a final hum in some fleeting recognition of his words and readily let the steady rhythm of his strides lull me into a blissfully empty sleep.

Next Chapter

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Moving with greater purpose, I made my way through the halls of the Marauder, pausing just long enough to slip into boots as the ramp lowered before treading out into the chill of the night. The apparent desert of this planet made the biting cold in the air all the more poignant, and I quickly found myself wrapping my arms about my chest as I began searching, certain the temperature was all the more troublesome for Echo. Rusty boulders the size of walkers obscured much of the endless seas of rock and sand stretching endless around us offering just as precious cover to us as it did to any potential threats, but, unless something had gone terribly wrong, I harbored no doubt that he would be nearby.

My hunt lasted mere minutes before spotting a flash of crimson and grey atop one of the nearby stones. He sat gazing blindly toward the distant horizon where the pale blue moon was just beginning to vanish, one leg hiked up to his chest while the other lounged lazily over the uneven rock. Something quieted me in that split second before calling out to him, some wisp of understanding my conscious mind hadn’t yet understood, but then I noticed the way his hand gripped mercilessly around his knee, fingers straining against the metal joint. I saw how faintly his breath shook despite the carefully regulated rhythm.

He was crying.

I lingered for barely a second longer in that glimmer of indecision before starting toward him. Still, it wasn’t until I pulled myself over the ridge of stone that he noticed me, body tensing violently beneath a sharp gasp before turning quickly away as though there was some hope of hiding the lines of tears streaking his face. I offered no sign of even noticing his reaction as I settled down beside him, knees tucked to my chest to watch the moonset despite the nervous glances he kept sending toward me.

“I still can’t touch the scars.” There was no sorrow in my softly spoken words; no precursor to the truth I was so loathed to admit to anyone else. “If I let myself think about it – that it’s all metal and wires in there instead of bone, I can barely walk on it.” I didn’t need to look at him to feel the understanding slowly sink in; to see him quiet in the wake of my admission.

“When that EMP went off, and it went dead… I was so… so mad.” I told him with a scoff. “I was mad that I had to rely on this thing that had failed me where my body wouldn’t have. I was mad that I fell so quickly into that panic… I was too busy being mad and scared, that I never gave myself time to be grateful that, even though it isn’t perfect, it’s better than having nothing there at all… To be honest, I’m still pretty bad at that last part.” Only then did I turn to look at him, searching for him only out of the corner of my eyes in case he shied away from my gaze, but he wasn’t looking at me.

Attention locked on the artificial joint still trapped in his hold, he wilted before me, tension abandoning him into something too near despair for my heart to even bare witness to without twisting.

“I just…” The air stilled in my lungs at that first attempt to speak, at the way his voice caught on faltered breath, forcing him to pause before trying again. “I woke up like this… I didn’t… And there wasn’t time to even understand what… what happened.” I wasn’t there for his rescue, but I knew bits – I knew of the state he was found in and of the battles he faced immediately after… It took me nearly a month to learn to walk. He had to fight for his life without being granted even a moment to begin to come to terms with his new body.

Without a word, I reached out and rested my hand atop his, touch barely there until he hesitantly uncurled his fingers, amber eyes studying his own movements as he slowly allowed himself to return that touch, and then he was clinging to me, grip strong enough to make the joints ache, but I merely offered him a small smile. Brows drawn sharply together, teeth ground, he let his chin fall to his chest as his shoulders bucked slightly.

“I know I should be… I can still function, so I know it shouldn’t…” His lips wrenched into a scowl against the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Echo,” I barely breathed his name, shifting nearer to him until my thigh brushed his hip. “There’s no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ with this.” He turned slightly away from me, but I could see the rage in him, the desperate sorrow and regret. “You have a right to be angry; to be sad… It’s okay to feel those things.” I reached my other hand toward him, gently whispering up his jaw, his cheek in a silent plea to face me; to believe me, but he wasn’t quite ready yet, so I merely waited, thumb brushing along skin that was so pale for so long but was finally regaining that stunning gold.

His other arm started to raise, as though moving to reach toward that touch, but then he stopped, eyes shifting only briefly to the scomp before closing with a deep, shaky sigh.

“I’m… There’s barely anything left of me to feel…” I could hear how the words wanted to lash out, how they longed to veil that sorrow in an anger that wouldn’t come, that he’d never allow himself to direct towards me, and that simple realization threatened to ruin me. My fingers shifted more firmly against him as I leaned forward to try to face him.

“I feel you, Echo.” My gentle smile sang through the quiet words, just managing to draw his attention back to me for a moment before his brows drew together, gaze dropping to glare into the stone beneath us.

“Don’t do that.” The heartbreak in his voice felt like a dagger tearing through my chest. I froze, struck by the sudden chill radiating from him.

“Do what?” I heard the question fall from my lips, bathed in a confusion I felt lost in, studying him with the entirety of my being for some clue as to what I’d done, some hint as to how I might help him.

“Act like nothing’s wrong with me, like all this metal and wire isn’t…” His jaw snapped shut around the words, body tensing more with each passing second.

“Isn’t what, Echo?” I pressed. That earlier softness was gone. I wasn’t asking him to answer me; I was demanding that he answer it for himself, but he kept that glare trained pointedly away from me, cheeks taut from how he ground his teeth. “No – hey; don’t do that. Dammit, look at me.” I couldn’t tell if I was begging or ordering, but the desperation was clear, hand pulling more firmly against his jaw. With a resigned, impatient sigh, he reluctantly yielded beneath my touch, weary eyes dragging up to meet mine.

“Do you really think it bothers me?” I asked, torn between horror and insult, freeing my hand from his that I might bring it up to cup the other side of his face as well. “I want you to look me in the eyes, Echo, and tell me: do you really think I care about that – do you really think I see you any differently because of it?” Beneath the faintest hint of anger in my words, all I could hear was my plea for him to deny it, to offer some reassurance that he knew me better than that…

He clung to his empty impatience for mere seconds, breath just catching in the beginnings of a retort he wouldn’t let himself say.

But then that feigned disinterest began to crumble, and the devastation and sorrow and pain broke through. His head hung limp in my touch, eyes shutting against the tears he had no hope of holding back, and I immediately drew him against me, pushing myself onto a knee to reach him.

“I didn’t know you before,” My lips dragged atop the cool skin of his forehead, “but Echo, I don’t need to… I know you now.” I cherished the prickle of facial hair beneath my palms as my thumbs delicately swept away each drop that slid down cheeks no longer gaunt with famine. His hand hesitantly released that death grip on his knee and slid around my side, my back, movement tentative, almost shy, as though certain I’d balk at the contact at any second, but I merely dropped my forehead to rest against his.

“You’re brave, Echo,” I continued, murmuring praise into what sliver of air lay between us. “You’re loyal, and you’re smart, and you care so damn much…” I let my touch slip back just enough for my fingertips to brush against his headpiece, “This… doesn’t change any of that…” His arm trembled as he clung to me, chest bucking beneath tense breaths as he fought for some glimmer of control. “It doesn’t change how deeply I trust you… how much I enjoy your company…” He pulled back just enough to glance up at me, and I broke beneath the desperate need screaming from those stunning eyes.

“You may be different,” His gaze refused to leave mine for even a moment, as though my every word held a secret too precious to risk missing, “but that doesn’t mean ‘bad’… that doesn’t mean ‘less’… especially to me.”

I barely noticed him move, but my entire body lit at his touch, unable to silence the tiny gasp. There was no hunger driving him toward me, no eager want spurred into action by a burning lust. He kissed me with a gentle devotion, worshiping me with every tender, subtle shift of soft, plush lips. He kissed me with such care, I forgot the dangers of war around us; I forgot the labels of medic and soldier. I forgot about the biting cold of the night and the threat of the mission looming with the inevitable rise of this planet’s golden sun. Shamelessly, I forgot about the very existence of reality outside the consuming love in that kiss, and, shamelessly, I kissed him back.

The instant I returned that quiet caress, a nearly silent sob escaped him, and I could have moaned as his hand trailed up my spine, palm cradling my neck for mere seconds before letting his fingers tangle into my hair, hold just enough to beg me not to pull away… not yet. The world could have erupted into fire, and I wouldn’t have been able to tear myself from him, chest trembling with fleeting gasps beneath the violent need burning through me.

The stiff bar of his scomp stretched across my lower back, and I eagerly yielded beneath the gentle pressure, twisting further into him as he held my chest flush against his, hands ceaselessly dragging him toward me. Time didn’t matter as I finally tasted him, welcoming the fleeting dance of his tongue with a growing frenzy, and I couldn’t silence the tiny whimper as the nerves sweeping down my spine flared to life in a burst of static and heat.

With a gasp, he pulled back, wide eyes staring at me with some crippling cocktail of shock and fear and guilt. Frowning, I strained to regain even the beginnings of thought with which I might quiet that frightful doubt.

“Kriff, I… I’m s”

“Don’t.” That single word fled in a tiny huff, mind finally regaining the capability of at least enough logic to speak, driven by the desperate need to rid him of every whisper of fear. “Don’t you dare…” I was panting, fingers still dancing softly against his jaw, body still pressed to his. “Don’t apologize… not unless you regret it.” He looked trapped, terrified to respond even as the faintest whisper of hope lit in that stunning amber. I felt my jaw shift, but whatever words vied for speech fell silent beneath my silent plea for him to kiss me again.

He lingered in the briefest echoes of uncertainty, but, when my lips sought his, when I stole that final stretch of meaningless distance for only the faintest of touches… when I pulled back too soon, every fiber of my being begging him to follow me, that final shred of reservation caved. I didn’t try to fight the breathy moan of relief that left me in a deep sigh, body melting into him.

I could feel his smile, could feel the tension flee him even as his chest swelled with glee. Still, his every touch was impossibly gentle, reverent, and my heart surged at the depth of safety I felt in his embrace, at the love pouring through him with every lingering press of his lips to mine, with the tender sweep of his thumb along the back of my neck. I wanted to live in that moment for the rest of time, relishing the gradual shift into almost lazy, unhurried touches as we merely allowed ourselves the freedom to explore this, to explore each other safe within the knowledge that there was nowhere else either would rather be.

When he finally pulled back, there was no fear or doubt or regret in those golden eyes, and I couldn’t help but light at the simple joy I found there instead.

“I should skip watch-change more often.” He murmured, and I could feel the huffs of laughter in his words. Beaming, I couldn’t help but mimic that glee, shoulders shaking beneath a soft chuckle.

“Yeah? You going to make me come hunt you down like this every night?” I asked, brow hitching, and his smile only grew.

“Depends… would you come looking for me that often?” He teased back. I nearly rolled my eyes at him, but caught myself, struck by the overwhelming warmth fluttering about my chest.

“Yes.” I murmured, leaning in for another fleeting taste of those lips. “Every night.” The quiet that stole over him was more precious than any treasure coveted by man, more profound than any combination of pretty words strung together by poet or philosopher. In that gentle silence, I kissed him again, grateful for every second the darkness of night lingered, delaying the coming morning when I’d finally need to drag myself from his touch, when we’d be forced to remember the awaiting mission and unending war. For however many minutes and hours remained veiled beneath the breathtaking dance of distant stars, we existed only in the comfort and safety and desire of each other’s touch.

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