Chapter Text
<i>inspired by fanart by @etachooff</i>
https://www.tumblr.com/etachooff
It had been bitter comfort to spend the night following the Senate meeting in Riyo Chuchi’s residence. Echo felt out of place in the plush surroundings; he never slept well, but here he woke exceptionally early, guilt gnawing too deeply to let him rest any longer.
Pushing to the edge of the bed, the movement easy against silken sheets, he swung his thigh stumps over the side and glanced about for his prosthetics. He reached out his left hand, grasping the legs which were in easy reach, attaching them by rote as his mind wandered.
It felt wrong to be resting in such surroundings, when their failure had plunged millions of his clone brothers’ futures into doubt. They had all thought the evidence of Kamino’s destruction would secure a brighter tomorrow. Instead, they had played into the Emperor’s hands and made it easy for him to push through his own agenda.
Stormtroopers. An army of recruits to replace the clones. He felt hollow just thinking about it.
The only upside to staying at the Senator’s house was the sleeping arrangements. Having their own rooms, with wide, comfortable beds, was a rare treat. Echo almost felt bad that he hadn’t enjoyed the experience more.
He glanced back over his shoulder, to where a bed-tousled mop of brown hair stuck out from rumpled blankets. Hunter’s soft, even breathing indicated that Echo’s restless wakening hadn’t disturbed him, which in itself was a small miracle. The enhanced clone Sergeant usually slept about as poorly as Echo, similarly haunted by lost brothers – lost brother, Echo corrected himself, frowning as he wondered about Crosshair.
He shook that thought from his head, fitting his second leg, then pushed to his feet, the servos in his knees and ankles whirring softly. He glanced about, locating his arm attachment, sighing softly as he spotted the scomp on a chest across the room.
He and Hunter had been going round in circles for weeks, the argument coming to a head when the two of them had taken the nerf nugget run for Cid, divided over what the best way forward was. The decision was on the cusp of being made, and yesterday’s events had cemented it.
He would leave with Rex today; not with the Batch. What was left of the Batch.
At least they’d gotten to spend this night together, before they parted ways. At least Hunter’s anger had given way to acceptance, and they had regained some of their old closeness.
He retrieved his discarded blacks, pulling on the lowers over the underwear he had slept in and then crossing the room to the fetch his scomp. He rolled his right shoulder gently, loosening the tension there, ready for the small discomfort of reattaching the prosthetic.
His thoughts were already elsewhere, spinning down plans for his involvement with Rex’s clone resistance. They had stayed up late the night before talking about it, so late that it became early.
For the first time in many months, he felt like he had purpose. More purpose than under Hunter’s faltering leadership.
He winced guiltily at the thought, feeling like a betrayal even in the privacy of his mind. Hunter had tried so hard to keep them together, but their ideological divide was growing.
Hunter wanted to keep their heads down and keep them off the Empire’s radar.
Echo was done hiding.
The warm weight of a hand settled on his hip, and Echo startled. He’d been so lost in reminiscence he hadn’t heard Hunter get up.
The weight of Hunter’s head landed on the back of his shoulder, heavy with sleep, his breath gusting across Echo’s bare skin in a sigh.
“What… Hunter?” Echo spoke softly, a prompt to the half-asleep clone, and Hunter made a noise of protest in response.
“Mnh… please don’t go,” he murmured, the words mumbled against Echo’s skin as he rested his cheekbone against his shoulder blade. “I can’t handle their stupidity alone.”
Tilting his head to look down at him over his shoulder, Echo sighed. Unguarded like this, Hunter looked younger; his bandana still missing, sleep painting his expression soft as he brushed his lips against Echo’s shoulder.
Before long, he would wake fully, and the hard mask would fall back into place, the one Hunter threw up to guard himself against the scrutiny of others. Echo wondered how often this softer version of Hunter would have chance to slip out, once he was solely burdened with responsibility for the others again.
He couldn’t worry about that. Other people needed him, a lot more than Hunter did.
He turned, Hunter’s head lifting just enough to let him position their bodies so they were facing, before falling back to rest this time on his collar-bone.
Echo brought his one hand up to caress Hunter’s cheek, trailing the backs of his fingers along his jaw to stroke through his hair.
“We’re not having this argument again,” he said gruffly, apologetic.
“Not arguing,” refuted Hunter sleepily. “Pleading.”
Echo drew in a deep breath, tangling his fingers at the nape of Hunter’s neck. Hunter was dressed in the tight vest and undershorts he wore to sleep, and Echo took a moment to absorb the sight of him, committing it to memory. He knew each of the scars intimately, could trace the pattern of ink on his face and arm with his eyes closed. They had spent enough time learning each other’s bodies, he was sure he could paint Hunter from memory if he was asked to.
Hunter tilted his head up, a slit of hazy storm-grey eyes peering through his barely-cracked lids. Echo let the barest smile tug at the downturned corners of his mouth, lightening his expression, as he pressed his lips to Hunter’s forehead.
“You handled them just fine before you had me.”
“Didn’t know… I needed a second-in-command.” Hunter’s speech was punctuated by yawns. “Don’t think… I can go back, now I’ve had you.”
The dual meaning wasn’t lost on Echo, but he chose to ignore it.
“Get dressed,” he said, ducking his shoulder out from under Hunter’s head in a way which drew a protesting noise from the other clone. He smiled at the way Hunter grumbled as he was forced to wake the rest of the way up, blearily blinking to full wakefulness.
“What time are we meeting the others?”
“Soon,” said Echo, taking his scomp and fitting it back to the stump of his right arm.
He glanced at Hunter, saw the calculating look in his eyes.
“No, we don’t have time,” he answered the unasked question, huffing a laugh at Hunter’s disgruntlement.
“Just a kiss, then?” muttered Hunter hopefully, and Echo smiled as he leaned in. He could give Hunter that.
“Just one,” he agreed, tilting his head down to meet Hunter’s pliant, willing lips.