21 - The clones deserve the universe | Stop the fucking whitewashing! | Do not talk shit about Echo. | #metalisreligion ¦ German fanfic writer #Salaminuswrites ; can be found on Ao3 and wattpad (same username). Fix-it is completed since September 2021. (Damn i'm getting old). Can bench press 60 percent of her body weight. But don't ask me when it comes to carrying heavy stuff around, I can guarantee I'll fall. Has a shitty aim in Valorant. Room is fully staffed with books. They just keep coming, someone SAFE ME
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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Thoughts of Kix finding the Tribunal crash site and Jesse’s helmet, of all these helmets painted in Ahsoka’s markings and assuming the worst.
Of Kix returning to Kamino for whatever reason only to find the closest thing he could call home rotting at the bottom of the sea.
Returning to Coruscant and seeing ghosts of what once was. Maybe 79s is still there, graffiti in the bathroom painted over but still peaking through. The memorial wall still standing but unmaintained and vandalized, it’s the clones fault that the empire rose to power after all.
I’m having sad Kix thoughts again.
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I read ONE fic with Fox and Jaster Mereel in the same room and now I want to write a fic about them. Fox time travels and saves Jaster and accidentally brings him home. Fox is now just trying to do his job while his new father follows him around and gives him life advice and tries to fight politicians while having no context for anything ever. Very light hearted. Fox texts his batch for help in getting rid of him but no one believes him until they are on coruscant and are forcefully adopted by the dead king of madalore. Fox is desperately trying to keep Boba (who he got out of jail and is trying unsuccessfully to domesticate) away from his grandfather cause he fears what will happen if they meet.
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how to train your dragon but fox and the zillo beast. no further questions
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POV: you're the supreme chanceller accusing fox of committing treason
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Obsessed with the idea of Commander Fox stealing. Money, food, clothes, blackmail, you name it. His opinion of the rich and powerful gets worse every time he is forced to interact with them, so at some point Fox will no longer consider it worth respecting their ownership of things.
At first it’s just small stuff like a nicer desk chair, or a working printer. It escalates to bank account numbers to help troopers buy personal items like hair dye and casual clothes. When Fox finally accepts clones will never get rights he hires a good lawyer to sue the government for slavery.
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Dear Mr Fives Rexson,
We from the Hoth Dawg Ranch assume this holomail finds you well. As the owner of the ranch, I would like to thank you for elaborating on our missing data. We now have all data necessary in order to confirm the order and fulfil the purchase; you can find the invoice attached to this holomail. As requested, your four Tauntauns signed the invoice with their paw prints.
I would also like to personally apologise for any emotional damage the previous holomail by my employee W. Ampa may have caused. I made him an appointment with HR to sort it out. Of course we need to make sure any customer information checks out, but I was not charmed by the tone of his holomail. In his defence: his arm was recently cut off with a laser sword in his ice cave home and he's not taking it too well.
We are the galaxy's most esteemed Tauntaun farm and we hope you understand we have a reputation to uphold. But please know we highly value our customers and their needs and requests. Therefore I would like to offer you one of Hoth Dawg’s gold cards, which grants you a lifetime discount on our holoshop’s food inventory and access to events we occasionally host on our ranch. We truly hope you choose to remain our customer; we would be honoured if you choose to become a Hoth Dawg Gold Member.
Since I am already writing this holomail, I would be most honoured to provide you with a weekly update on your Tauntauns.
I am sorry to tell you Tauntaunakin and Ahsoka Tauntauno’s behaviour towards Obi-Taun Kenobz is getting out of hand, but we trust you will be able to raise them properly (whichever your definition of ‘properly’ is, but we don't mind as long as the Tauntauns are being loved and taken care of). Obi-Taun is still handling himself pretty well, and he's grown towards Bob - who is the most shy, precious, tender baby (the whole team will miss him; you should count yourself lucky to become his caretaker!).
Before we set a date and make shipping arrangements, we'd like to ask you one last thing: would you mind sending us occasional updates on the Tauntauns (Bob especially)? We do understand if your busy life restrains you from doing this, but I speak for everyone here at Hoth Dawg Ranch when I say we'll be devastated with Bob's absence! Receiving an occasional update may fill the hole.
With kindest regards,
S. Lenderman
Owner of the Hoth Dawg Ranch - Galaxy's Most Esteemed Tauntaun Farm
note: asks are now closed for this event. this is the third last one. feeling a bit sad about that but I hope you enjoy!
S. Lenderman,
My day is brighter now that I have copies of my children’s paw prints! I have showed all of my work colleagues, who are positively jealous. I plan to get these printed out so I can hang them up around my new house as art work. Your (my) pedigree Tauntauns are truly beautiful.
Emotional damage? You can’t break me. But the apology is very much appreciated and half heartedly accepted. My precious children are still very offended that W. Ampa disliked their names. That’s a wound that cannot be easily healed.
Speaking of wounds, I think that you should have let W. Ampa take some time off work. You really shouldn’t be forcing employees back to work so soon after a life changing accident. Maybe I should have a discussion with your HR department. I’m actually a licensed Life Coach so I feel like I could give them some very valuable insight into, I don’t know, being decent human beings?
I understand you have a reputation. But let me tell you this. I publicly talk about my Tauntauns in my advice column. I have so many people wanting to know where they can buy some from. If anything, you owe me a great debt in boosting your reputation. In saying that, it’s a slay that you highly respect my needs and requests and of COURSE I’d love to have a gold card! I’m going to buy a lanyard so I can wear it around my neck at all times! Who needs a dog tag when you have gold card access to epic Tauntaun raves and cheap food?
There is no need to apologise about their behaviour. Please continue to encourage it. It is good for them to let out their frustration and emo feels. Kenobz will be fine because I’m going to make him a really cool tea room in my new house and he can listen to zen music and chillax 24/7.
I am thrilled that my darling Bob is taking a liking to Obi-Taun. I think Obi-Taun will be a great influence on him. Maybe I should take them to the spa with me? It would be a great bonding activity.
I would be more than happy to keep you up to date with the glorious adventures of my Tauntauns. I’m hoping that when they are old enough, they can travel the galaxy as a singing/dancing/acting troupe. They are forever in your debt for having a wonderful start to their lives, so it would be the least I could do to send the occasional update. Bob and Tauntaunakin might even draw you all some pictures if you are lucky!
I should be ready to move into my new place next week. Perhaps you could arrange for my Tauntauns to be shipped around then? I cannot bear to be apart from my babies for too long. And you know what Bob’s separation anxiety is like.
Kind regards,
Mr Fives Rexson
p.s. I’m going to throw a Hoth Dawg Party at mine once we’ve settled in. You are more than welcome to visit. It will be a ticketed event (gotta make some credits somehow. Do you know how expensive it is to make clone rebellion friendship bracelets these days?)
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Arc Trooper Fives,
This is an official memorandum to inform you that under GAR Regulation 42-3808, Paragraph 2, Subsection 4, general harassment and heckling of superior officers may result in punishment if it interferes with mission parameters. You have been duly warned. Your CO (Captain Rex) will be receiving a report.
Best Regards,
Sergeant Sinker, 104th Battalion
(written under duress, Sorry Fives)
Fives,
First and foremost, Sinker wants to apologize for sending an official memorandum.
Our commander was breathing down his neck. Still had feathers stuck in his hair. No idea who got him but I saw your guide to pranking and whoever did it, really did a bang up job.
I’ll send you the clip when I get off punishment duty. Telling Wolffe that the choice of slime color matched his eye probably wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve said in a while…
-Boost
note: asks are now closed for this event. I am still in the process of answering all your wonderful asks. You can read all the answered questions over on AO3 or by using the #aknightreaderr 100 follower celebration tag. The masterlist will be up in my pinned post soon!
To Sinker and Boost,
Firstly, how dare you (I know you had to send the memo but still…)
Secondly, I know who pranked Wolffe. The guide was just a cash grab. Only but a handful of people can execute it with such glorious precision. And when I mean a handful, I just mean me.
Could you let me know when Rex will be receiving the report? I may or may not have plans to intercept it. Thanks in advance Hook Line & Sinker!
But if you are going to send the report, and for whatever reason I am unable to eat it before it ends up in Rex’s hands, could you please add a personal statement from me on it that reads:
“ARC Trooper Fives has requested that the following be put on the record. I was not interfering. I was trying to help Wolffe lighten up. Just be glad I didn’t decide to do the prank where I dress up as C-3PO and sing my legendary Diamonds x Titanium mashup. I had planned on asking General Skywalker if I could borrow R2D2 to do a duet with me. However, the logistics were not going to work out because the General had an appointment at the ‘Senate.’ I do not apologise for my actions. A prank a day keeps the medics in the medbay”
Ok, now that’s out of the way, Boost I NEED that clip. I cannot believe you told Wolffey that it matched the colour of his eyes. That is the most brilliant thing you have said in your entire life.
Say, if this prank were to happen again, how much do I need to pay you to say the exact same thing but to Master Windu?
I am proud of my two little menaces. Continue to wreak havoc, my children. I’ll let you know when I’ve got my next round of supplies. I’m just waiting on the extra sticky glitter to get shipped to my new home.
Love,
Fivesy, the Master of Pranks
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i loveeeeeee ur writing. its like a masterpiece. mwah. i was wondering if you could do an angsty fic with the prompt "I loved you!" with any clone boy you want (maybe crosshair 👀) I was listening to Cardigan by taylor swift and it lowkey set the mood.
sorry if the request is very vague cause i never watched bad batch yet im a huge simp 🥲 so do whatever you want.
I know you got like a tonnnn on your plate and i lowkey feel bad requesting but you write really good so take ur time to take care of yourself.
hiiiii anon. if you are who i think you are, then you'll have already been watching TBB by now, but if you're not, what are you doing!! /affectionate
after listening to the song (i have a sister who is a swiftie but alas i am not) and thinking harder about your prompt, i was inspired to write this for Echo, so i hope that's okay!
The Way Back
Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader
Words: 9,621
Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, dramatic reunion, reader is a lawyer, Tech is a good brother, Echo needs a hug, allusion to panic attacks/alcoholism/depression
Summary: Echo always knew you were it for him, but the idea of seeing you again after so much has changed is more than he can take. Until one day he finds himself outside of your apartment, and the choice is made for him.
Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist
Echo doesn’t leave the ship when it docks on Coruscant.
His eyes are locked on the city-planet, lit up like a giant firefly, watching the endless stream of ships coming in and out. Their trails of light make the whole thing seem dreamlike, surreal. Even that feels like too much, reminds him too much of the view from your apartment, and he tries to close his eyes, but his eyelids are made of glass.
The first time he saw Coruscant, there had been a moment of... what, awe? Terror? Something. Something big, anyway. He didn't understand then that you can have a feeling be a lot of things. He'd looked down on the galaxy's center of power and felt something bigger than he could possibly contain. Now, sitting alone on the Marauder with only the whirr of the vents for company, he thinks maybe the feeling was dread.
The first time they came back here after Echo joined the Batch, the others didn’t notice his unease. Or at least they didn't mention it. It was an adjustment period for everyone, Echo most of all, and his brothers gave him space to do things on his own terms, even when it meant he did nothing at all.
This time, it's different. He can tell they've noticed how he's been acting, and they're not just leaving him alone anymore. He can tell, because they're giving him looks. The kind of looks that ask questions he doesn't have answers for. They make excuses to stick close by, like they're afraid he might take off or that he's going to break down and have another panic attack. It makes him want to hide even more.
He's not going to, though. It's not so bad. Coruscant has always been a source of good memories for Echo, despite what happened. The sights, the sounds, the tastes — they're all still the same. He'd spent a long time on Coruscant before the Citadel happened, and he'd gotten used to it, the way the air smells, the feel of the rain against his skin. He had a whole life here. He was happy.
It's not so bad. He just... doesn't feel like going out, is all.
He knows he’s being stupid. He knows that he should be out there, enjoying what little downtime they’re afforded. Instead, he's on the ship, trying not to stare out the windows, trying to pretend that he isn't bothered by the thought of leaving, of the possibility of running into you again, however small that may be.
The worst part is that he's not sure why.
It's not that he doesn't want to see you. On the contrary, he does. More than anything. He hasn't stopped thinking about you, wondering if you're okay, if you’re happy, if you've thought of him. He's kept his ears open, and has managed to overhear a few stories here and there about you. The most recent had been about you winning a case for a group of Houk refugees who had been seeking asylum in the city, a big deal for a young lawyer to handle.
It had made him smile, a real, genuine smile, the kind he rarely got to have.
But there's something about seeing you again, about you seeing him that makes him hesitate, makes his stomach turn over and his throat tighten. Maybe it's because he doesn't want to know for certain, doesn't want to see that you're happy, that you've moved on, that you're doing well without him.
Maybe it's because he doesn't trust himself. He's different now, he knows that. He's different, and so are you. He doesn't know if he can face you, doesn't know if he'll be able to handle whatever is waiting for him.
When he woke up in Rex’s arms and realized the galaxy had kept moving without him, he hadn’t thought much of it, solely focused on survival, on the fact that he was alive at all. He hadn't cared about what he'd missed, who he'd left behind. He hadn't known how much time had passed, and the thought that he was a dead man hadn't even crossed his mind. He hadn't thought about you, hadn't given himself the time or space to consider the consequences. You'd been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd had to keep fighting, to keep living. But once he had the time to think about it, to regret, well, it was...
It's different.
There's no other word for it. Everything is different.
Echo has had time, too much time, to think about you, to regret losing you. It's kept him up late into the night cycle, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts running a mile a minute.
You'd been a good person, a better one than he could ever hope to be, and he had loved you, and then he had died.
Or, he had thought he'd died. Turns out he hadn't. That had been the only mercy.
You'd been the first and only person in his entire life to see him as something other than a soldier, and he'd loved you for it. You'd seen him, really seen him, and you hadn't run. He had been terrified by that, but it had also been the best feeling in the world. And he had taken advantage of it. He had let you in, he had let himself fall in love, and then he had died.
It's different, now. He's different. The galaxy's moved on, and he's a ghost, and he's scared. He doesn't know how to face you, doesn't know if he can. So when they’d made it out of Skako Minor and Rex had asked if he wanted to comm you, he’d said no. And he's been saying no every time since.
A small voice inside his head, one that sounds a lot like Fives, tells him that's bullshit.
His brother would have called him out on his cowardice, and Echo thinks that's a fair assessment. But even though he misses you and wants nothing more than to hear your voice, it's better this way. It's better if you don't see him like this, if you never find out the truth. The thought of you seeing him, of you seeing what's left of the man you knew, is too much. He can't do that to you.
It's better if you never see him again. It's better if you have closure, if you've moved on and don't think about him anymore.
You deserve more. You deserve someone who hasn't lost as much as he has, someone who you won't have to worry about, someone who will be there for you.
Someone who can give you the life you want.
Echo knows he can't do that. And maybe if he says that enough times, he'll finally believe it.
“Why are you still here?”
The sound of Tech’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He turns and finds his brother watching him from the doorway, an expression of vague curiosity on his face, a soldering iron twirling absently in his hand.
Echo shrugs.
Tech gives a short, impatient huff.
"That is not an answer," he says, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at Echo.
"I was just..." He trails off. Just what? Just looking out the window and moping? He sighs. "Nevermind."
Tech steps into the cockpit, looking unconvinced. Echo can tell he has a question on the tip of his tongue, can see him considering his options. Tech is not the most tactful person in the galaxy, and Echo isn't really in the mood to hear his thoughts, not when they're bound to be blunt. But instead of asking, his brother simply takes his seat beside him and begins tinkering with the dashboard, checking the systems.
The two of them are quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of the tools. Then Tech pauses and looks at Echo.
Echo fidgets under his brother's gaze. "What?"
Tech doesn't respond right away, taking a second to look Echo over. His eyes flicker around the cockpit, as if the gauges and switchboards will give him some kind of clue, before coming back to his brother.
"There is nothing wrong with the ship," he says.
"Okay," Echo says, confused. "So?"
"So," Tech continues, "there is no reason for you to be here. We are scheduled to remain docked until 600 hours, and you have the day off. You could be anywhere."
Echo rolls his eyes, a prickle of annoyance flaring in his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, you are," Tech agrees. There's a moment where he considers something, and then he speaks again, "If I may offer a suggestion?"
"Go for it," Echo grumbles, not bothering to look at him.
"Go for a walk."
"A walk?"
"Yes. Physical activity is proven to improve mood and mental health. And you could do with the fresh air."
Echo frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Tech says, not even pausing in his work, "that you've been spending an inordinate amount of time locked away in here."
"I'm not locked away," Echo protests.
"No, I suppose not. But you have not been yourself since we arrived."
Echo doesn't have an answer for that.
"Go for a walk," Tech repeats, and this time he does stop and turn to Echo. He leans back in his chair and removes his goggles, letting them rest on his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze makes Echo squirm a bit.
"Where?"
Tech gestures towards the open space in front of them, the sprawling metropolis. "There are a number of options available, I'm sure. There are parks, shopping districts, museums, restaurants..." He ticks the ideas off on his fingers one by one, and then points back to Echo. "Perhaps you should find out for yourself."
Echo snorts. "Thanks, but no thanks."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to," he says, the words coming out more defensively than he intended. "I'd rather just stay here."
"Yes, I can see that," Tech says dryly, and Echo gets the distinct impression that his brother is making fun of him.
He scowls.
Tech is undeterred. "But I don't think that is what you actually want to do."
Echo's mouth opens to argue, but then closes it just as quickly. He's not sure what to say, not sure if he wants to say anything. Tech isn't wrong. He doesn't really want to stay on the ship, not truly. The idea of getting out and going somewhere is tempting, and if he's being honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is sit here, stewing in his thoughts alone. Or worse, with Tech.
And he does need to stretch his legs.
He looks out the window again, taking in the sight of the planet before him. He's not sure what's going to happen once they get the signal for the next job, if they'll ever be back. He might never have this opportunity again.
He takes a breath.
"Fine," he says, throwing his hands up in the air. "You win."
Tech's lips twitch, a barely contained smile. "As I usually do."
Echo shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. He starts to make his way towards the door, and stops beside his brother.
"Thanks," he says, placing a hand on Tech's shoulder.
"You are welcome," Tech nods. “Try to be back by 0600 hours. If you are late, we will leave without you.
Echo snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
He leaves Tech there and heads to the ramp. His steps slow as he reaches the bottom, but he forces himself forward, out into the bright sunlight and fresh air.
Echo spends the next few hours wandering around Coruscant, letting his feet guide him.
He goes wherever the crowds take him, stopping at whatever catches his interest. It's nice, being able to let his mind go blank and not have to worry about where he's going. He doesn't have to think about anything, doesn't have to consider the consequences, or the risks.
He just exists.
And it feels good.
When he eventually decides to turn back, he's a bit surprised at how far he's come. He hadn't intended to venture so deep into the city, had just wanted a walk to clear his head. But the area he's found himself in is one he recognizes.
Your apartment is nearby.
Echo can feel his pulse start to quicken, his palm begins to sweat, and he stops in the middle of the walkway.
The sun has begun to set, and the crowds are thinning. You’ll be on your way home from work soon, if you weren’t already. His brain helpfully supplies the route you would take, and his eyes flit up towards the skyline. He can't see your building, but he knows it's there, not far away.
The knowledge sits heavy in his chest.
No, he tells himself, shaking his head. I shouldn't.
He has no way of knowing if you're even home. For all he knows, you could be busy, out with friends or maybe on a date.
Don't, his mind warns him. She's moved on. You shouldn't.
He hasn't been to your apartment since the morning he left. The memory is a sharp one, a jagged knife cutting through the fog of his past. He remembers the way your bed had felt, the warmth of your body, the sound of your breathing as you slept tucked against him.
It had been so peaceful.
It had been so easy to leave.
His mind starts to replay those moments, the goodbye you had given him, and it's like a punch to the gut. He knows how much you care about him, knows that if you were to see him again, that wouldn't have changed. You wouldn't turn him away.
The night before, you talked for hours. Your conversation had been punctuated with kisses and caresses, laughter and confessions. You told him how much you wanted him to stay, how much you wished he didn't have to leave, how much you wished things could be different. You talked about what the future might hold for the two of you, and he remembers how that felt, how it made him believe, even for just a moment, that things would work out.
They didn't, of course.
But Echo is still here, and so are you, and he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy might be giving him a second chance.
He takes a deep breath.
There's no harm in taking a detour, he thinks.
He walks, following the familiar path, trying not to think too hard about what he's doing.
It doesn't take him long to reach the building. He hesitates in front of it, looking up at the facade. It looks just as it did the last time he was here. Same lobby, same doorman, same lift. They haven’t even fixed the panel that's been sticking, and it takes a good deal of force for him to press the button for your floor.
The doors close, and he stares at his reflection, at the dark circles under his eyes, the scruff that has accumulated on his cheeks and chin, the lines that have appeared at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. And then his gaze wanders to the ports and implants, the reminder of what was taken from him and what he was left with. He traces the outline of one with his thumb, remembering how he used to be.
He looks tired.
What are you doing? He asks himself.
He's not sure what he's expecting, doesn't have a plan for what will happen. All he knows is that he can't get the image of you out of his head. He imagines you coming home from work, and him being there, waiting. Would you be surprised? Happy? What would you say? What would he say?
Echo sighs.
He's an idiot.
The lift dings, and the doors slide open.
Your apartment is halfway down the hall, and Echo's stomach clenches with each step he takes. He reaches it and stands outside for a minute, running his fingers over the metal door, staring at the numbers painted on the surface.
It's just a door, he tells himself. Nothing special. Just a door.
His hand moves on its own, hovering over the bell. He waits, listens. There's no sound coming from inside, no music, no voices. Maybe you're not home yet.
Or maybe you're out. Maybe you're not alone.
He rings the bell and holds his breath, counting the seconds.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Nothing.
Echo rings again, this time holding the button down for a few extra seconds, listening for any sign of movement.
There's nothing.
The knot in his stomach tightens, and he releases the button, letting out the breath he'd been holding. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the heat of his skin through his glove. He's sweating.
Well, that's it, then.
He'd thought he was prepared for this possibility, but hearing the silence behind the door and knowing that you aren't home has shaken him more than he anticipated.
Maybe this is for the best, he thinks. It's better this way. Safer.
But the disappointment is palpable.
He's not sure what to do. He considers waiting a little longer, just to make sure, but the more he thinks about it, the more stupid it seems. He doesn't belong here anymore. He shouldn't be here, standing outside your door, hoping for something that won't happen.
He needs to go.
As Echo turns away from the door, a voice calls out behind him.
"Can I help you?"
For half a second, he's sure he imagined it, sure that it's just his brain playing tricks on him, taunting him. But then the voice speaks again.
"Are you looking for someone?"
Echo spins around, heart leaping into his throat, and there you are.
Standing there, a few paces away, is the woman he's been dreaming about, the one he's thought about every day, the one he's missed so much that it hurts.
Your hair is different, longer than he's ever seen it, pulled away from your face. You're wearing a dress, something he's only seen a handful of times, and your makeup is impeccable, but he can still see the hint of tiredness behind your eyes. He wonders how many hours you've put in at work this week, how much you've had to fight for your clients.
But the most noticeable change is that you're looking at him. Your datapad is held loosely in your hands, a bag of groceries on your hip, and you’re staring at him, your brow furrowed in confusion.
He doesn’t blame you.
This is a strange situation, and you must be wondering who the hell is standing in front of you, why they rang your bell and then walked away.
"Um," Echo says, suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken. He clears his throat, trying to gather his wits. He didn't think this through. "Hi."
You blink, clearly not expecting that response.
"Hi," you reply, warily.
Echo tries to say something, but the words won't come.
He's frozen in place, staring at you, unable to do anything except take in your appearance, drinking in the sight of you. He didn't realize how much he needed to see you until now, and the relief he feels is overwhelming.
"Do I..." You trail off, studying him carefully. "Do I know you?"
He feels his heart break, just a little.
You don't recognize him. Of course, you wouldn't. It's been so long, and he's not the same man you knew. His face is one of thousands, identical and interchangeable. He doesn't even look like a clone anymore, not really. He's more machine than man, now, and he has no idea how he expected you to see him.
"Yeah," he manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, you do."
You raise your eyebrows, waiting. When he doesn't say anything else, you take a step towards him, squinting a little. He can feel the tension in his body, can sense your scrutiny. It's not comfortable, but it's not unpleasant, either.
"Sorry," you say, sounding frustrated, "I can't quite —"
You stop, your eyes widening, and Echo can see the exact moment it clicks.
"Oh," you gasp, covering your mouth with a shaking hand. The motion makes the paper bag of groceries on your arm start to slip, and Echo rushes forward to catch it, placing it on the floor by your feet. He stands up, and he can feel your eyes on him, can see the tears beginning to well up, can hear your breathing quicken.
He waits.
"Echo?" Your voice is soft, tentative, like you're not sure if he's real or not. Like he's some kind of ghost. He's not sure that's not what he is.
"Hey, cyar'ika," he says. His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.
A small, incredulous laugh escapes you.
"Hi," you breathe. You cover your mouth again, trying to stifle the sob that rises from your chest. "I —"
You let out a shaky breath, and then another, and then all of a sudden, you're crying, tears streaming down your face. Your hands come up to wipe them away, but more keep falling, and Echo is overwhelmed with the desire to hold you, to take away the pain and the sadness, to make everything right. But he doesn't know if he's allowed, doesn't know if it would be welcome. So instead, he just stands there, helpless.
"I'm sorry," you hiccup, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "I can't believe it's you."
He smiles at that, his own eyes burning. "It's me," he confirms. "I'm here."
You're shaking your head, your eyes never leaving his face, as if you're afraid that he might disappear if you look away. He doesn't blame you, and he does his best to stay as still as possible. The last thing he wants is to scare you, or make you think he's going to leave. Not when he just got here.
"I thought..." You start, and then trail off.
"I know."
You swallow hard, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I thought you were dead."
Echo winces. He's heard those words from a lot of people, but coming from you, they hurt. "Yeah, I, uh... I thought so, too, for a while."
He sees the look of horror that crosses your face, the way your eyes grow wet again, and he wishes he hadn't said it.
"How... How long have you been back?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, strained, and Echo can hear the question underneath, the one you're afraid to ask. The one that makes his stomach twist into knots.
"Not long," he answers, trying to keep his tone even, light. "Only a couple months, really."
"Months?" you repeat, incredulous. "You've been back for months?"
Echo shifts uncomfortably and nods. "Yeah."
You stare at him, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words. "And... And you didn't comm me?"
"I, uh... No."
You let out a sharp exhale and turn away, bringing your hands to your face, and he can see that you're starting to shake again. You're silent for a moment, and he can feel his heart pounding, can feel the blood rushing in his ears. His stomach churns, and he feels like he's going to be sick.
"Why?" Your voice is tight, controlled. It's the same voice you use when you're working, the one you use to keep yourself calm, to keep yourself from getting angry.
"I just... I wasn't..." Echo trails off, not sure what to say. I wasn't sure if I was coming back? That's true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me? Also true, but also not the full answer. I wasn't sure I was worth it? Yeah, that's the one.
But he can't say it.
He doesn't know if it's fear or guilt or shame, but whatever it is, it keeps the words stuck in his throat. You're waiting for an answer, and he's not sure he has one.
"Echo," you say, your voice a warning. You turn to face him again, and he can see the hurt and frustration in your eyes. He wants to hold you, wants to apologize, wants to take it all back. But he doesn't move. He can't.
"Why?" you repeat, more forcefully this time.
"I didn't want to bother you," he says. It's the best answer he can come up with, and the worst part is that it's also true. At least, that's what he tells himself.
But the moment the words leave his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. You stiffen, and then your jaw tightens. He can tell that you're barely holding it together, and he wants to say something, to explain, but he doesn't get the chance.
"You didn't want to bother me," you repeat, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can feel the sting of it. "I'm sorry, did I not make it clear how much I care about you?"
"No, you did," Echo says, backtracking, trying to placate you. "You did, I promise."
"Then please explain how you thought keeping me in the dark about the fact that the man I love was still alive and well was not a bother."
The word "love" hits him like a punch to the gut.
You love him. You still love him. You're still here, and you're still loving him, even after everything. He doesn't understand, doesn't know why. Doesn't know how. But he doesn't have time to think about it, not with the way you're looking at him, the hurt and confusion clear on your face.
"That's not what I meant," he says, his voice low, pleading. "It's not that. I promise."
You let out a shaky sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "What's the difference, then?"
Echo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, not knowing what to say.
"I mourned you," you say. Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it sounds loud in the silence between the two of you. "I loved you, and I mourned you, and I was doing okay, and then you just show up, and act like it's no big deal, like I didn't spend weeks, months waiting for you to come back, hoping you'd come back, and..."
Your voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears begins to roll down your cheeks. Echo reaches out to brush them away, and you flinch. The motion stings, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push it. He lets his hand drop to his side.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Yeah, well, you did," you say, sniffling.
The words hit him harder than he expects, and he feels his throat tighten.
"I didn't know what to say," he admits, his voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."
"Why not?" you ask, and your anger has softened, turning into something else. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No!" Echo says quickly. "Of course not. You were perfect. You were... You were amazing."
You look at him, and there's a vulnerability in your eyes that makes him want to gather you in his arms and never let go. He thinks maybe he should. But before he can, you speak.
"So what happened?" you ask. Your voice is quiet, but Echo can hear the desperation, the need for an answer. "Where were you? Why didn't you come back?"
“I—“ Echo looks around, suddenly aware of the hallway and the closed doors surrounding him, closing in on him. The space is too small, the walls are too close, the air is too thick. He feels trapped, like the world is closing in around him, and he takes a step back.
"Can we... Can we not do this out here?" he asks, trying not to let his voice betray his panic.
You study him for a moment, considering. He doesn't blame you. After all, he'd shown up out of the blue, and you had every right to be suspicious. You're still crying, but there's a steeliness in your gaze, and he can tell you're weighing your options, deciding if he's worth it or not. His heart hammers against his ribs as he waits, praying that you'll give him a chance.
Finally, you let out a sigh and nod.
"Yeah," you say, "sure."
You bend down to pick up the groceries, and Echo rushes forward, scooping them up before you can. You look at him, surprised.
"Let me help," he says. "Please."
You hesitate, and Echo can see the worry on your face, but then you nod, fumbling for the keypad. The lock clicks open, and you push the door open, motioning for him to go ahead.
He steps inside, and the familiar scent of your apartment hits him hard. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it, how much he'd come to associate it with safety and comfort. It makes his chest ache, and he takes a moment to steady himself, willing the tears to stop.
Your apartment is the same, and yet so different.
It's still cozy, but there's a coldness to the air, a lack of warmth. The curtains are closed, and the room is dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the stove in the kitchen. There are dishes stacked in the sink, and a few pieces of dirty laundry have been discarded on the couch. The floor is littered with shoes and other miscellaneous items, as if someone came home and kicked everything off their feet, leaving it all in a pile. Echo’s brow furrows at the mess, and he wonders when you started to let the place get this way.
"I'm sorry," you say, sounding embarrassed. You take the bag of groceries from him, your cheeks flushed. "I wasn't expecting company."
"Don't worry about it," he assures you.
"Here, let me..." You trail off, disappearing down the hall, and a moment later, he hears a door slam shut.
Echo stands there, unsure of what to do. His gaze wanders around the room, taking everything in, trying to find something to occupy himself with. It feels like years since he's been here, and the sensation is both comforting and strange. He remembers the nights he spent curled up next to you on the couch, the quiet mornings in the kitchen, the lazy afternoons spent in bed.
He shakes his head, trying to focus on the present.
You're back now, and he needs to concentrate.
He takes a seat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers against the wood.
It's quiet, but Echo can hear you moving around, and he wonders if you're trying to clean up, trying to make the place a little more presentable. He doesn't care about any of that. He cares about you.
And he doesn't know what to say.
He runs his hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to think. He's rehearsed this moment in his head, has imagined all the different ways it could go.
And now that it's actually happening, he can't remember a single one.
He's such an idiot.
The minutes pass, and you finally return. He hears you enter the room, the soft sound of your footsteps, but he can't bring himself to look up. Not yet.
"Echo," you say, and he can hear the hesitation in your voice. "What happened?"
"I don't know where to start," he confesses, dropping his hand and glancing up at you.
You've changed into something more comfortable, a pair of sweatpants and your favorite sweater, and your face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. It's nice to see you this way, a reminder of the times you shared together, and the sight makes him smile.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Nothing, it's just..." He pauses, his eyes wandering over you. "I forgot how you looked in sweatpants."
You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of amusement on your face. "Seriously? You're sitting here, after being missing for months, and you're making fun of my fashion choices?"
"I'm not making fun of you," he says, chuckling. The pressure in his chest eases slightly, and he takes a breath. "I just meant that I missed seeing you this way."
You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, and then shake your head.
"You're unbelievable," you mutter.
Echo smiles, and for a moment, he feels normal. As if the last year never happened, and this was just a day like any other. As if he'd just come home from a mission, and you'd greet him with a kiss, and everything would be fine.
But then you sigh, and the moment is over.
"Look, I get that this is... Well, I'm sure this isn't what you were expecting," you say. You move to sit across from him, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your hands. "But we can't keep pretending like nothing happened. You have to talk to me."
Echo stares at you, his eyes taking in the familiar lines of your face, the curve of your lips, the color of your eyes. They aren’t as bright as he remembered, not as full of life, and the realization breaks his heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.
"Okay," he begins, clearing his throat. "So, uh, this is going to be a lot."
"That's okay," you say gently. You give him a reassuring nod, and Echo feels a swell of gratitude for you. "Just... Start at the beginning, and we'll go from there."
"Right, the beginning." Echo nods, trying to organize his thoughts, and then he starts to speak.
He tells you everything, from the moment the explosion happened, to the moment he woke up and found himself in Rex's arms, everything in between. He tells you about his injuries, the surgeries, the physical therapy. He tells you about his time with the Batch, his newfound abilities, the things he's been able to do, the things he's learned. He talks about the missions, the jobs, the danger they've faced, and the risks they've taken. He tells you about the planets, the people, the experiences. He tries to leave nothing out, even the hard parts. The loss, the pain, the fear. He doesn't want to spare you any of it.
You sit there and listen, asking questions when necessary, but mostly staying silent. And when he's done, he sits there, feeling a strange sense of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk about everything, how much he'd been holding in. And he hadn't realized how good it would feel to tell you. To have someone who cared, someone he trusted, who knew him better than anyone.
When the words run out, and the room is silent, you let out a long, slow exhale. You sit there, your hands folded together, your gaze fixed on the tabletop, and Echo waits, not sure what to expect. But the longer the silence drags on, the more worried he gets.
"Cyar'ika?" he asks, his voice hesitant.
You take a breath and look up at him, and Echo is startled to see that your eyes are glassy, and there are fresh tear tracks running down your cheeks.
"Sorry," you apologize, wiping at them with your sleeve. "I'm not — I just..."
You take another breath, and then let it out, composing yourself. "Thank you," you say. "For telling me. I know that can't have been easy."
"It wasn't," Echo admits, and his throat tightens a little. "But I'm glad I did."
You offer him a small smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You look like you’re far away, lost in your own thoughts, and Echo has a feeling you're not fully present, not in the moment. And he doesn't blame you. His words can't have been easy to hear.
"Is there anything else you want to know?" he asks, trying to break the silence.
You glance at him, your eyes focusing, and then look away, your jaw clenching. Echo can see the emotion on your face, can tell that you're struggling to stay calm, to hold it together. You've always been good at that, he thinks.
"I just..." You pause, taking a shaky breath, and Echo can see the tears forming in your eyes again. "I just don't understand."
He frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"
You close your eyes, taking a moment to collect yourself. Then, you stand up and begin pacing around the kitchen, your hands clasped behind your back. You move slowly, deliberately, your gaze fixed on the floor, like you're trying to make sense of something, figure something out.
Echo watches you, feeling uneasy. You're not giving anything away, and the silence is starting to get to him. He's never seen you in the courtroom, but he imagines this is the stance you take when you're interrogating a witness.
It's effective.
"Can you say something, please?" he asks. He knows he sounds desperate, but he doesn't care.
"I'm thinking," you say, and Echo bites his lip.
He feels like he's going to crawl out of his skin. He wants to get up, to follow you around the room, try to coax a response out of you. He wants to make this better, to make this right. But he knows that pushing you won't help, so he stays seated, trying to keep his patience.
You continue to pace, your expression blank, and the seconds tick by, the only sound the muffled noises of the city outside. It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally stop, standing in front of him, your arms crossed.
"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't want to see you," you say. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's an edge to it that Echo doesn't recognize. It's not anger, not exactly. It's something else, something deeper.
"I know," he replies, his voice just as quiet.
"I thought you were dead," you say, the words coming out in a rush. "I grieved you. I mourned you. And then you show up, and you're... You're alive, and you're here, and you think the best thing to do is to leave me alone?"
"I didn't know what would happen," Echo explains, trying to keep his tone calm. "I wasn't sure if I was coming back, and I didn't want to —"
"No," you say sharply, cutting him off. "That's not an excuse. That's bullshit, and you know it."
Echo swallows, and nods, not sure what to say.
"We made promises," you continue, and Echo can hear the anger in your voice, can see the frustration on your face. "To each other. We talked about our future, we said things that... We made things that were real, and then you just decided it was too much, and you walked away. What the hell is that?"
"I'm sorry," Echo says around the lump forming in his throat. "I shouldn't have —"
"No," you interrupt, your eyes burning. "You shouldn't have."
Echo looks at you, and he feels like he's going to shatter. You’re staring at him with such intensity, and there's an anger in your gaze that he hasn't seen before. It's so different from the gentle look you usually give him, and it makes him ache.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says. "I swear, I didn't."
"Then why did you?" you ask, and there's a note of pleading in your voice. “I spent so long wondering, worrying, and you just... You didn't care."
"Of course I did," he argues. "It wasn't about that."
"Then what was it about, Echo?" you demand. "What was so important that you thought you couldn't tell me? That you couldn't comm me, or send a message, or do anything that would have let me know you were alive? That would have told me you were okay?"
"I didn't think —"
"What, that I'd care? That I'd worry? That I'd miss you? That I'd wonder where you were, and if you were okay, and what the hell happened to you?" you say, your voice rising.
Echo can feel the frustration building inside him, and he knows he shouldn't respond, knows that getting angry won't help, but the words tumble out before he can stop them. "I'm sorry," he snaps. "I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."
"That's not an excuse," you snap back, and Echo blinks, shocked. You're the most level-headed person he's ever met, and he's never heard you yell before.
"Yeah, well, it's the best one I've got," he says.
"Echo, I loved you," you say, and the past tense stings. "When Fives told me what happened to you, I —" Your voice catches, and the fight goes out of him. He can see the pain on your face, the hurt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel responsible. "I can't even describe it. It felt like my whole world was ending. And I don’t blame you for doing your duty, but I do blame you for not coming back to me."
"I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really am."
You shake your head, turning away from him. "Why didn't you comm me?"
Echo hesitates. He doesn't want to admit his fears, his worries, the insecurities that have plagued him. He doesn't want to tell you how much he doubted, how much he doubted you. It feels too vulnerable, too raw. And it would only make you feel worse. But the longer the silence stretches, the more you deserve the truth. And he can't avoid it forever.
"I didn't think I was worth it," he says, his voice low. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of embarrassment. He can't look at you, doesn't want to see the pity, the disappointment, the anger. "I didn't think I was worth it."
You turn to face him, your expression softening.
"You were all I had left," he says. He feels exposed, and it's not a comfortable feeling, but he can't stop now. Not with the way you're looking at him. Not when he's so close to fixing this, to getting you back. "After everything that happened, I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't think you'd want to see me."
"You really thought I'd just leave you?"
Echo can hear the hurt in your voice, and he's surprised at the sharpness of it. He expected to be met with some amount of anger, but he didn't expect it to cut so deep. He didn't think his insecurities would upset you so much. He's used to it, by now. After everything he's been through, the doubts and worries have become a constant, an almost comforting presence. But you were never supposed to know about them.
"It's not that," he says. "I know you wouldn't have left me. It's just... I didn't want to drag you down with me."
"That's stupid," you reply. There's no malice in your voice, but there's no sympathy, either. "What makes you think I couldn't handle it?"
"It's not about what you could handle," Echo says. "You didn't sign up for this. You didn't sign up for any of it."
"I signed up for you," you argue, and Echo is startled by the fierceness of your tone.
"And look at what that got you."
You fall silent, and Echo regrets the words the second they leave his mouth. He's always known he wasn't good enough for you, but it's different to actually say it out loud. It makes it real. And he's not sure he's ready for that. But you're looking at him like you can't believe he said it, and the disappointment in your eyes makes him feel even worse.
Your eyes rove over him, taking in the scarring, the metal implants, the ports and wires, the armor. You look like you’re seeing him for the first time, and the disgust and fear he’d thought might appear are nowhere to be found, just a profound sense of sadness and resignation.
"Oh, Echo," you breathe. The words are quiet, but they feel like a slap, and he has to look away, not wanting to meet your gaze.
"I'm not the man you knew," he says. He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. His eyes are burning, and he has to fight to keep the tears from falling. He hates how weak he feels, how small, how vulnerable. "I can't be. I'm... I'm not him anymore."
"Yes, you are," you insist. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing gently, and the sensation makes him jump. He'd almost forgotten how warm you are, how soft. How safe. He wants to hold on, to pull you close, to never let go. "You're still the same man, the same Echo, I just..."
"What?" he asks, when you trail off. "You just what?"
You sigh, dropping his hand and running your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly. The familiar gesture makes him ache. "I don't know, Echo," you admit. "I'm... I'm sad. And I'm angry. But I'm mostly just... Confused."
"Confused about what?"
"I'm confused as to why you didn't come back to me," you say. "I'm confused as to why you thought I'd want anything else."
"I thought you deserved better," he says, the words sounding hollow, even to his own ears. "I thought you deserved someone who was whole, who could give you a normal life, who didn't have a hundred years of baggage and trauma to deal with. And I was terrified that you already had that."
"Had what?"
"A normal life," he answers. "Without me. And the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was true."
"It's not," you say. Your voice is quiet, but firm, and Echo looks at you, searching for any trace of doubt, of hesitation, of insincerity. But all he finds is determination, and it makes his heart clench. The intensity in your gaze is too much, and he has to look away. His eyes trail over the walls, the ceiling, the floor, lingering on the groceries on the table, the dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of wine shoved into the trash, the pile of laundry on the couch. There’s a dent in the wall that wasn't there the last time he was here, and the carpet is worn. He wonders when that happened.
He feels a tug on his arm, and then you're reaching up to cup his face, your hands soft and warm. You turn his head to face you, your thumb stroking his cheek. The touch is gentle, comforting, and Echo can't stop the sigh that escapes him. It's been so long since someone touched him like this, and it's nice. It's more than nice. It's familiar. It's safe. It's home.
"I only wanted you," you whisper.
"Even after everything?" he asks. He doesn't mean to sound so incredulous, but he can't help it. He's spent so long convincing himself that you were better off without him, and now, hearing you say the opposite, hearing you say the words he'd only ever hoped for, the ones he'd tried to convince himself were true... It's a lot to take in.
"Even after everything," you affirm.
"You could have had anyone," he says. "Why me?"
"Because I love you," you answer, as if it's the simplest thing in the galaxy. As if it's the most obvious thing in the universe. "And I don't want anyone else."
"Cyar'ika..." His voice cracks, and the tears are falling freely now. You wipe them away, and the touch makes his chest ache.
"I've never stopped loving you, Echo," you say. Your voice is barely audible, but Echo hears it. And it's the best sound he's ever heard. "And I don't plan on stopping now."
"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I didn't comm you, and I'm sorry I was such a coward, and I'm —"
"Shh," you murmur, cutting him off. "I forgive you."
Echo can't speak. He's not sure he can move, can't even breathe. The relief is overwhelming, and it threatens to knock him off his feet. His chest tightens, and the tears won't stop falling, and he doesn't know what to do. He's missed you so much, has regretted leaving every single day, and now that you're here, now that he has you back, he can't find the words to express how grateful he is, how relieved, how happy.
"You really thought I was going to leave you?" you ask, and Echo can hear the note of humor in your voice, can see the ghost of a smile on your face. It's reassuring, and he lets himself smile, too.
"Honestly? Yes," he admits.
"Never," you reply.
Echo leans down and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. You move your hands down his face, brushing the tears away with your thumbs, before bringing them around his neck, wrapping your arms around him. He moves to do the same, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a quiet gasp of surprise, and Echo chuckles, holding you tighter.
"I missed you," he whispers, and it feels good to say the words out loud. "So much."
"I missed you, too," you say, your breath warm against his neck. You tilt your head and press a kiss against his throat, and Echo feels his heart stutter. "More than I can say."
Echo hums and pulls away, bringing his hand up to brush the hair away from your face. Your skin is warm, and soft, and he leans in and presses a kiss against your forehead, savoring the contact. You sigh, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you again, this time on the cheek.
"Echo," you murmur, letting out a shaky breath.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and your grip on his neck tightens, your fingers digging into the fabric of his blacks. He moves down your throat, trailing kisses along the column of your neck, and you gasp.
"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and you laugh.
"Yeah, I got that," you say. "Now, will you please kiss me?"
Echo smiles and obliges.
The kiss is soft and sweet, and it tastes like home. He cups the back of your neck, his scomp moving to rest on your hip, and you let out a pleased noise, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. The warmth of your mouth, the way your lips part, the little gasps and sighs you make, it all makes him want to get closer, to be nearer.
You break the kiss, and Echo lets out a quiet whimper. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder, and Echo brings his hand up to stroke your hair, his fingers combing through the strands. You sigh and lean into his touch, and he can't help the contented smile that spreads across his face.
"I'm glad you're here," you murmur. "I'm glad you came back."
"Me, too," he says. He tilts your head up and presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering. You close your eyes and nuzzle his neck, and Echo sighs, holding you close. It feels so good to have you in his arms again, to be able to hold you, and he wishes he could stay here forever. But the reality of the situation catches up with him, and he can't help the wave of guilt that washes over him.
"I'm sorry, Cyar'ika," he says.
You frown, and pull away slightly. "What are you apologizing for?"
"I didn't think this through," he admits. "I... I didn't know what was going to happen, and now..." He pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I just... I'm sorry. I’m leaving soon, and I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to have to say goodbye again, and I'm —"
"Echo," you interrupt, and your voice is firm. You put your hand on his chest, and he can feel the heat of it, even through the layers of armor and clothing. "I know what I signed up for. I'm not expecting anything different."
"But —"
"No," you cut him off. "No buts. I knew what this was, Echo. And I still want it."
"But you shouldn't have to," Echo argues. "I don't want to put you through that."
"Well, it's a little late for that," you reply. Your tone is sharp, and Echo winces. "Look, Echo. I know the situation isn't ideal, but I'm not going to walk away because it's hard. And I'm not going to stop caring just because it hurts." You look at him, and the determination in your gaze makes his heart skip a beat. "You're worth it, okay? No matter what."
"Cyar'ika —"
"No," you say, shaking your head. "You're not changing my mind. You can try, but it's not going to work. So don't waste your time." You give him a stern look, and then your face softens. "Okay?"
"Okay," Echo agrees. He knows it's futile to argue. He's never been able to say no to you. Not when it matters. "I'm still sorry, though."
You roll your eyes, and then stand on your toes and give him a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you," you say, and the words make him feel lighter.
"Yeah, I am," he agrees, grinning.
"So, what now?" you ask.
Echo shrugs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He's been so focused on finding you, on convincing you to forgive him, on making things right, that he hasn't thought about what comes next. The prospect of it is both exhilarating and terrifying, and he doesn't know where to start. There's so much to do, and so little time. And he doesn't want to waste another second.
"Do you want to stay?" you offer.
"Stay?"
"Here," you clarify. "For a while. I don't know how long you can, but..." You pause, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I was going to make dinner. If you wanted to stay."
"Dinner?" Echo repeats, and he can't hide the excitement in his voice. The idea of a home-cooked meal is so far removed from his life now, so distant, that the thought of it almost makes him lightheaded. "Really?"
You laugh, and the sound fills him with warmth. "Yes, Echo. Really."
"What are you making?" he asks. The question sounds childish, and he can't believe how eager he is, how excited.
"Just a simple dish," you say. You move towards the counter and begin putting the groceries away, and Echo follows you, a smile spreading across his face. While you tell him about the recipe, he moves toward your sink, picking up a dish and turning the water on. You look over at him, and the fondness in your eyes makes him blush. "You don't have to do that, Echo."
"I know," he replies. "I want to."
"Well, alright then."
The two of you work together, talking and laughing as you wash the dishes and prepare the food. Echo feels lighter than he has in months, and it's a relief to be here with you, to have something normal and familiar to do. Something so domestic, so ordinary, and yet, so special.
He wants to remember this.
When the food is ready, you gesture to the table, and Echo takes a seat. You sit across from him, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other. He's missed you, missed this. Missed being here, missed having someone who knew him, someone he could trust. Someone he could love.
You're both quiet, and Echo can see the wheels turning in your head, can see the way your eyes dart over him, taking everything in. You're cataloging, committing him to memory too. The realization hits him, and his chest tightens. He'll be leaving soon, and you're doing what you can to make sure you won't forget him. It's a sobering thought, and he's not sure how to handle it.
"Hey," you say, and Echo looks up, meeting your gaze. "It's okay. We'll be fine."
"How did you know?" he asks, startled.
You shrug. "It's written all over your face."
"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I wish I could stay."
"It's okay," you repeat. “We have the night, and that’s more than enough. For now, let's just enjoy the time we have."
Echo nods.
You're right.
You always are.
You smile, and it's so beautiful, so genuine, that it takes his breath away. You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back, and you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and putting your chin in your hand. The way you're looking at him, the affection in your eyes, it makes him feel like he's the only thing that matters, like he’s home.
And, right now, he is.
He's missed this.
He's missed you.
And as the two of you sit there, enjoying each other's company, Echo knows he's made the right choice. He knows that coming back was worth it, that finding you, fixing things, making things right, it's all been worth it. And he knows that, no matter what, he'll be back.
He'll find his way back to you.
Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia
@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak
@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario
@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano
@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear
@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777
@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean
@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus
@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark
@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland
@marchingviolinist @deerspringdreams
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Fox with a long kama (it keeps his legs warm), Thorn with a short kama (it's his miniskirt)
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Hey bro,
Jesse and Hardcase said that they saw Fox KiSsiNg senator Chuchi (that blue one). I'm in 79's, I'll show you photo of them.
Ur dearest bro Echo
note: asks are now closed for this event. I am still in the process of answering all your wonderful asks. You can read all the answered questions over on AO3 or by using the #aknightreaderr 100 follower celebration tag. The masterlist will be up in my pinned post soon!
ECHO ECHO ECHO!!!
FOX AND RIYO SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-N-G FIRST COMES LOVE THEN COMES MARRIAGE THEN COMES A BABY CHUCHI THAT SITS IN THE CARRIAGE (an original poem i wrote)
This is the greatest day of my life. Foxy can't be grumpy at us anymore because he is in LOOOOOOOOVE (and you know what they say, love makes people nicer? Something like that. Or is it that loves make people do stupid things?).
Send me all the evidence you gained out in the field. Tell Jesse and Hardcase that I’m extra proud of them. How in the galaxy did they manage to get a pic?
We might have to keep this on the down low for a teensy little bit. Thorn has lowkey kinda threatened me sort of but not really if we let this leak. I'd hate to lose his friendship because karaoke duets wouldn't be the same without him :( Sometimes when I see him, it's like looking in a mirror.
Your dearest bro,
Fives
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Um I’m obsessed with this criminally underrated duo.
Sergeant Hound and his massif Grizzer sketch page cuz I’m a sucker for ‘a man and his dog’ trope.
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Dear Fives
Can we cuddle again? You're very comfortable. Also, I'm getting a master soon and I'd like you to meet them when I'm assigned one.
- Jedi Youngling Black
note: asks are now closed for this event. I am still in the process of answering all your wonderful asks. You can read all the answered questions over on AO3 or by using the #aknightreaderr 100 follower celebration tag. The masterlist will be up in my pinned post soon!
Jedi Youngling Black!
We were so happy to have you visit the 501st. All the boys have asked if we can make clone piles/snuggling/watching holos/making clone pyramids a regular thing. We'd love to have you back! You are the perfect size for the top of the pyramid.
Maybe we could convince your new master to join in? Hardcase has been asking me for weeks now to find someone to make him float in the air. Do you think your master can do it?
Ya boi,
Fives
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Dear fives
Please inform General Skywalker that if he wishes to keep his head attached to his body, he will apologize for scaring my Shines.
Sincerely, Commander Wraith
note: asks are now closed for this event. I am still in the process of answering all your wonderful asks. You can read all the answered questions over on AO3 or by using the #aknightreaderr 100 follower celebration tag. The masterlist will be up in my pinned post soon!
To Commander Wraith,
I'm sure you are exaggerating. The General is great with kids!
Lots of love and hugs and kisses,
Fives
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Fives,
when I'll find you, I WILL KILL YOU FOR THAT BARRACKS.
-Really angry captain Rex
note: send Fives a question before September 7 - find out how by reading this post. You can read all the answered questions over on AO3.
OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN,
Please don’t kill me I love you SO SO SO SO SO MUCH (Echo is my favourite, then you are a close second, then precious Tup'ika, then Mr Silver Foxy, then my boys from Domino Squad RIP boys I miss you every day).
IF I DIE PLEASE LEAVE ALL MY WORLDLY GOODS TO ECHO THIS IS MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT AND TO MAKE SURE IT’S SUPER DUPER VALID I GOT KIX AND CORIC TO SIGN AT THE BOTTOM
ALSO MAKE SURE THAT ECHO TAKES OVER THE MANAGEMENT OF TUP’S TRUST FUND AND GIVES HIM MONEY EVERY MONTH AND THAT JESSE ANSWERS THE REST OF MY LETTERS BECAUSE MY ASK FIVES READERS ARE VERY SPECIAL TO ME.
In fear for my life,
Fives
SIGNATURES Kix, under duress Coric, also under duress but I was promised a makeover so… *for legal reasons this is a joke*
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Dearest ARC Trooper Fives,
I am in a desperate need of your help ! Recently, I've been to 79s with my a good friend of mine. We were drinking, dancing, having fun etc. At certain point, I've locked eyes with a certain, handsome clone medic with a gorgeous hairstyle. He was in a company of your Captain, Jesse, Hardcase and other few brothers from your Legion. He gave me a brilliant smile and a little wave. 🥰😍 I responded in a likewise fashion and went completely red in the face. My friend definetely noticed and she encouraged me to go say hi to him. I stood up and started to make my way over to their booth, feeling elated, and he was watching me the whole time with that radiant smile of his. But, haIfway through I lost my cool, completely panicked and bolted right out of there. My horrible brain told me, he wouldn't like me for some reason.😧😞😓 My friend later told me, he was a little dissapointed and sad. 😭😭😭
I assure you, I meant no disrespect, I didn't mean to make him sad or break his heart (please don't send anyone for my head 😵) I am just very anxious and shy person sometimes, especially in front of handsome guys, no less !🫣😳 Please let him know, he has my thousand, no scratch that, million (even more) apologies (others as well !). 🥺😢😭
It is a shame I probably blew my only chance at talking to him. (*sigh). You see, I am considering a career in medicine, and would like to talk to him about his knowledge and experiences. I would really, really value his expertise. I want to help people. ☺️
This is where, I am asking for your help in approaching your brother. What drink does he like? What is his favourite music? What is his favourite past-time when he is off duty? Would he be willing to give me another chance? (*voice starts to wobble, tears gather in eyes) If not, I completely understand. Please, if there is even a slight chance at redemption, I would take it. I want to be his best friend with him and others as well. You are my favourite people. 😊 Again, I am VERY, very sorry for any heartache I caused.
PS: Honestly, I am a firm believer in Clones Rights Bill! You guys are truly the best, most loyal, bravest, valiant, kind-hearted, honorable and gorgeous men this galaxy has ever seen.🫡
You guys absolutely need to receive rights and anyone who is in opposition of that is blind for life and can go kindly jump in a sarlacc pit for all I care ! I know I know, as a (hopefully) future medic-in-training I should refrain from bias and wishing harm to anyone, but I can't help it. The injustice really grinds my gears you know!
Every clone trooper out there needs to be wrapped in the fluffiest blanket, to be given the sweetest hot chocolate with the softest marshmallows and to receive lots of hugs and cuddles and a gentle kiss on a forehead (or make it two) 🥹🥹🥹 Oh, and also receive therapy and counseling because this war is taking the hugest toll on you guys, primarily. Just know you are seen and you are heard. Sorry, this was really heartfelt, but I needed to get it of my chest. 😅
Much love and apologies for the aforemention incident.
Signed,
Luna, the anxiety sufferer and your ally.
note: asks are now closed for this event. I am still in the process of answering all your wonderful asks. You can read all the answered questions over on AO3 or by using the #aknightreaderr 100 follower celebration tag. The masterlist will be up in my pinned post soon!
Luna,
Sounds like you met the highly esteemed, all round great guy that goes by the name Kix (if I was choosing his name I wouldn’t have picked that but it is what it is). I didn’t realise he had it in him to act all cute and that. Maybe he has been listening to my advice after all. What a legend.
To any of my brothers reading this message, for only fives credits you too can take rizz classes from the King of Love, Cupid himself (aka Fivesy boiiiiii).
Why don’t you apologise to him yourself? Rumour has it that he’ll be at 79s again tonight. I don’t think you blew your chance… if anything, leaving before you got to him makes you seem totes mysterious and romantic. And those questions about drinks and music? I think they’d be great conversation starters 😉 With those questions up your sleeve, you’re armed and ready to chat with him!
Best of luck with your medical training - it sounds like you’ve chosen the right career! And thanks for your support - we need natborns like you to join the fight! I’d pay good money to see you throw someone in a sarlacc pit…
About those blankets and marshmallows and hot chocolates… perhaps you could send some over to the 501st barracks ASAP? Please send them care of Fives (I’ll hand them out to everyone Echo and Tup and Rex).
Love,
Fives
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