Another parallel between Echo's "death" and Tech's "death" that leads me to believe Tech is meant to have survived:
Proportionally speaking (based on overall amount of focus/screentime of the characters in their respective shows), Fives gets about as much time to mourn/come to terms with Echo's death as each Bad Batch member gets to mourn/come to terms with Tech's.
Specifically: in TCW, Fives calls out Echo's name, is hesitant to retreat from the platform, and looks back at the platform at the end of the episode in which Echo apparently dies. Comparatively, in the entirety of season 3 of Bad Batch, each Bad Batch member gets... roughly about the same.
(I stand corrected: proportionally speaking, it could be argued that Fives gets more time.)
Squaring his shoulders, Echo turned to face his brother, wanting to have this conversation before he lost his nerve.“As much as I’d like to pretend they’re not, things are different now. I am different now, Fives.” He let his words sit for a long moment before continuing.
Echo and Fives have a long-awaited conversation, and Echo learns about what the 501st has been up to in his absence.
Ch. 4: Missing
After postponing for nearly a month, the medics had finally determined that Echo was medically stable enough to be put under anesthesia for his kidney transplant. Now that his lung capacity had improved and his blood sugar had more or less stabilized, this surgery would be another step on the road to recovery.
They’d also discussed the potential merits of performing an islet cell procedure while Echo was out, but that would all depend on Echo’s reaction to the anesthesia. The Seppies had given him more than his standard share of sedation while they had their hands on him, and between that and his lower-than-average body mass, the medics had already explained the potential risks of the juggling act of keeping Echo under anesthesia for long enough to complete the procedure without risking respiratory arrest.
As the medics explained the procedure to him, Echo’s fist tightened even as he put on a brave face, like he’d done with most of his recovery. If Echo never saw the inside of a medbay again, it’d be too soon, but he wouldn’t let a case of medbay jitters stop him from recovering.
If he let his fear stop him, that would be letting the Separatists win— that, and Echo was eagerly awaiting the day that the medics stopped greeting him with questions about his urinary output. A trooper wanted his privacy, after all.
Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t an anxious mess for the twenty-four hours leading up to his procedure— and he wasn’t the only one.
“How are you doing?” Fives asked for the third time that day, approaching his batchmate carefully, mindful of the way the others’ fist clenched his pillow as he laid facedown on his bunk in a perfect picture of sheer frustration.
Echo gave a dramatic groan into the pillow before turning his head to give Fives a put-upon look. “I wish you’d stop asking me that. Because if I answer that honestly, then we’ll both be freaking out, and I can’t deal with that right now.”
At that, Fives grimaced apologetically. “Sorry…” Rationally, he knew that his reactions over the past few weeks hadn’t been the most helpful. Echo was going through a lot right now, and it was unfair to make him deal with their combined worry.
Echo sighed, expression softening slightly as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. “I know you are…” He ran a hand through his patchy hair, still shorter than regulation but longer than it used to be.
They couldn’t keep doing this. Echo pushing himself just past his limits, and Fives tapping the breaks every chance he got, overprotective and overanxious in equal measures— it was wearing on both of them, and honestly… Echo missed his brother. But they couldn’t go back to the way things were either.
Nowhere to go but forward.
Squaring his shoulders, Echo turned to face his brother, wanting to have this conversation before he lost his nerve.“As much as I’d like to pretend they’re not, things are different now. I am different now, Fives.” He let his words sit for a long moment before continuing.
“And every time I improve, I still feel like you’re holding my recovery to an unattainable standard. I’m not a newly-minted ARC trooper, fresh off the press— but I can breathe, I can walk, and I can make my own decisions, vod, and that’s parsecs better than I doing was even a month ago. Treating me like anything less is only going to slow me down, and I’ve already wasted enough time to get here.”
Fives’ expression caved, shoulders slumping as he responded. “I-I know… I just— I don’t want to lose you, vod.” Not again. The unspoken thought churned in the back of his head before he pushed it away. Once was more than enough for an accelerated lifetime.
Echo gave him a bittersweet smile— that was the crux of it, after all. “I don’t want to lose you either— it feels like we’ve barely gotten to talk recently about anything other than my recovery, and I still don’t know even half of what you’ve been up to while I was gone.” He paused again before finally meeting his brother’ eyes. “I miss my vod, Fives.” He shot Fives an earnest look, and with a pool of guilt in his stomach, Fives realized that he was right.
He’d been so caught up in the mix of anxiety, anticipation, and guilt at having Echo back and keeping a secret from him that he’d forgotten; just like Echo had been lost to him these past months, he’d been lost to Echo.
Fives needed to step up. He needed to do better— be better for his brother. Inhibitor chips or not, he wouldn’t let this secret get in the way of getting to know his batchmate again after so long spent apart.
Fives gave a weary sigh, mirroring Echo’s position on the bunk next to him. “I missed you too. And you’re right— I haven’t been as… present as I should’ve been.” He gave him an apologetic smile that came out as more of a grimace.
Echo nudged his shoulder with well-worn familiarity, “I get it, we’re in the middle of a campaign. You’ve got a lot on your plate, but if you’ve got the time, I want to catch up— just you and me.” After all, there was no way Echo was sleeping tonight, and he could use the distraction.
“Sure,” Fives agreed easily. He had perimeter duty in the morning, but he’d pushed through with less sleep before.
“What do you want to know?” Fives asked. He still couldn’t tell Echo about the chips… but he could fill him in on almost everything else.
So he did.
———————————————————
“So Hardcase took out a whole Seppie Supply ship? I didn’t even know he knew how to fly.”
“He didn’t,” Fives remarked dryly, remembering how close they’d all come to eating duracrete the first time they tried piloting the Umbaran aircraft.
“Ah.” Echo winced internally.
“Somehow we made it there in one piece, but getting back… that was another story.” Fives ran an anxious hand through his hair. “It was closer than I’d like to admit, but I was able to grab him after the first explosion, before the whole ship went up in flames, and we made it back to the 501st— and with Krell in charge, there was a firing squad waiting for us when we returned.”
He wanted to skim over the details and save Echo the pain the memories brought him, but he’d already gotten in trouble for treating Echo with cadet gloves once, so he pushed forward.
“Looking in their faces, I-I just couldn’t— No clone should go out that way,” Fives swallowed thickly, echoing his own words from back then. “Thankfully, the troopers assigned to the firing squad all seemed to agree— none of them could take the shot.”
He cleared his throat before moving on. “But Hardcase was hurt pretty badly, and that hutuun’la traitor wanted to ‘Let nature take its course,’ instead of allowing basic medical care— it took months of rehab for him to get back to active duty, after everything that happened.”
Echo winced sympathetically. He knew what that was like, and it was reassuring, in a way, that he wasn’t alone in that— but the thought that a Jedi General, even a fallen one, could be capable of such cruelty and sadism—
It made him grateful for General Skywalker, although Echo couldn’t help but wonder at the emptiness in their General’s expression these days, his smile absent more often than not, and a hole in the 501st left unfilled. War was taking its toll on all of them— Jedi and clones alike, and the 501st was no exception.
At first, when he’d noticed Commander Tano’s absence, Echo had feared the worst, only slightly reassured when he learned that wasn’t the case. He’d always wondered how the little biter would’ve done with her own battalion, but even knowing that she’d left, he couldn’t blame her for it. Commander Tano had been made for war— like them— and she was kriffing good at it, but she’d taken the exit that none of them could, and he would never hold it against her— none of them would.
“And the Commander? Where is she?” He’d asked earlier in Fives’ explanation of everything that had happened in his absence.
“Last I heard, Coruscant. Ran into her not long ago— she seemed alright, a little taller than when I’d last seen her. Had on this scrapper gear, so I guess she’s found work.” He gave Echo a half-grin, “Helped us out of a tight spot.”
“Sounds like her.” He’d remarked at the time.
“And Krell? What happened to him?” Echo asked, moving on, praying there wasn’t another lightsaber-wielding Seppie on the loose.
“Tup got him, actually.” Fives grinned, all teeth. “Stunned the chakaar when he tried to make a run for it and got tangled in a vixus.”
“Kriffing serves him right!” Echo pumped his remaining fist, chest full with newfound respect for the younger trooper.
Fives’ smile faded as he thought back to the reason for Krell’s capture, “A lot happened with Krell that I still don’t feel good about, but the long and short of it is that he tampered with holo footage to trick the 501st and 212th into firing on each other, thinking they were Umbarans in stolen armor. He was a traitor, plain and simple, and he died the same as anyone else who takes a blaster bolt to the back.” Fives finished with grim satisfaction.
“Can’t imagine GAR Command was too happy about it,” Echo mused to himself. “So, who was it that took the shot? I’d assume Rex, since he was the one in charge.”
“Dogma, actually. The kid had a pretty rough time of it— still reminds me of you before you got your head out of your reg manual—“
“Hey!”
“—but he figured it out eventually. He’s a good vod, and a terrifying medic, now that he’s fully trained.” Fives huffed a tired laugh between fending off Echo’s durasteel limbs, and Echo couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
Falling into silence, Echo’s thoughts turned back to the last unexplained absence in the 501st. Time to address the bantha in the room…
“…And Kix?”
Fives was quiet for a long moment as he put his thoughts together before finally speaking. “… I can’t tell you all the details. The mission’s still pretty classified, but we were making our way back to the 501st after getting separated when we were boarded by a squadron of Commando droids.” Rubbing fiercely at his eyes, Fives paused before continuing.
“Their tactics were near-perfect— the pilot and I got taken out by knockout gas before the hatch had even opened. The others were either injured, outgunned, or both, and Kix convinced them to hide in the smuggler’s hatch before letting himself get taken in our place… Hardcase was there when it happened…” He murmured, ears still ringing with the phantom cries of Hardcase’s stinging regret. Echo leaned into his side, offering silent support, even as he wracked his mind for why this all sounded so familiar.
“We’re pretty sure he’s still alive— they wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble when they could’ve just gunned us down and been done with it.” Fives sighed internally, not knowing which option would be worse. “We’re hoping we can get more information the next time we raid a Seppie info tower, but…” He trailed off, and Echo knew why.
As a returned POW, Echo himself was one-in-a-million. The 501st could only be lucky so many times…
And yet— something about Kix’s capture rang familiar in the back of his mind in a way that he couldn’t shake for the rest of that night, long after Fives had curled up next to him on his bunk, exhausted snoring droning rhythmically in the background, worn out by the day’s emotions.
Somehow, Echo knew the details of Kix’s capture… if only he could remember why.
I know, I cut Tech out of this, but I feel like when those doors opened, this might've been how Rex felt-- like he and Echo were alone in that horrible room.
Ramblings below
Imagine what Rex might've been feeling at the time. He believed, despite everyone else's doubts, that one of his best friends was alive after more than a year since his disappearance. He fought two entire compounds of droids, left without the approval of the jedi council, and fought with other clones, almost losing Cody in the process, all to save his good friend. It must've been horrible, being confronted with the sight of Echo being used as an experiment, barely recognizable from all the damage done to him. Finding out that Echo had been suffering a fate worse than death following the citadel must've hurt Rex more than we can imagine.
Plus, knowing that Fives had died just shortly before, that they would've seen each other again, if only Fives had lived for a couple more months, must've made Rex feel even worse. I hate trying to imagine how he broke the news to poor Echo 😭
Echo’s last clear memory is of heat and blinding pain. He is understandably confused to wake up freezing cold and completely numb. Maybe this is death, he thinks distantly - an empty cold eternity. It’s not the worst fate he could imagine for himself, though he’ll be awfully upset if the taste of bacta lingers on the back of his tongue until the inevitable heat death of the universe.
“Give it to me straight, doc,” Echo prodded good-naturedly, using his good arm to lever himself from his hoverchair up onto the mat they completed most of his rehab on. “How am I doing?”
Echo's recovery continues, but it's going a little slower than he would like.
TW: medical trauma, food issues, semi-canon descriptions of medical care during imprisonment
Chapter 2: Marathon
“Give it to me straight, doc,” Echo prodded good-naturedly, using his good arm to lever himself from his hoverchair up onto the mat they completed most of his rehab on. “How am I doing?”
It had been about a week since he’d been released to the barracks, and he was still at once daily appointments for continuing care, although some of those were group sessions with other troopers present. He’d like to say he enjoyed the opportunity to socialize with other vode, but he was admittedly a little disappointed when most of them kept to themselves, giving him and his more obvious alterations a wide berth. There were a few exceptions, but for the most part, Echo was starting to suspect that this reaction to him would become more and more common as he gained enough strength to venture farther out of the barracks.
Patch gave him a tired half-smile before answering. “Well, your lung volume has continued to improve. I don’t think you’ll be a scuba trooper anytime soon, but keep up with the breathing exercises we’ve been doing here. How’ve you been keeping up with those protein vita-mixes?”
Echo huffed, fiddling with his scomp arm and avoiding looking him in the eye. “Fives is shoving those things in my face every three hours like you ordered. Doesn’t matter that I can barely stomach half of one in a sitting.”
At that, Patch frowned, and Echo winced internally. If there was one way to get a medic on his tail, it was that. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying. Any more than that, and I’m going to be painting the barracks with it.” He defended with a sheepish grimace.
Patch’s eyebrows creased in concern, “I know it’s not easy, but those shakes are one of the surest ways to replace lost nutrients and improve your bone density without worsening your blood sugar or digestive issues. Have you considered the other options I mentioned in our last session?”
Echo shook his head rapidly, nerves rising. “No, no, no– I don’t want a G-tube.” He clenched his fists, fighting back memories of a tube shoved up his nose, searing pain down his throat, and sharp helplessness pooling in his stomach.
The Seppies hadn’t cared much for numbing agents or pain meds beyond those required to prevent him from stroking out on the operating table. After he’d been lucid enough to realize that he was taken captive, refusing to eat had been one of the few choices he’d had left, and even that choice had been taken away from him when they’d shoved a G-tube down his throat until he gave in.
ARC Training had trained him for a lot, but it hadn’t trained him for that.
During his brief lucid moments, Echo had struggled to find his resolve, but he knew that even the best system couldn’t hold up forever. He’d survive, on sheer force of will and spite alone. He’d crawl his way out if he had to, and when that day came, they’d either kill him or he’d make his way back to his brothers. And here he was— shaking like a leaf at the thought of a protein shake.
At Echo’s rising panic, Patch put up his hands in a settling motion, voice reassuring. “Alright. I hear you, no G-tube.”
He gave Echo a searching look, mentally calculating even as he considered alternatives. With Echo's difficulty stomaching food, they didn't have to worry about refeeding syndrome, at least. “We could try some anti-nausea meds instead, maybe 20 minutes before meals? That, or having someone wake you up for a midnight snack?” Echo wasn’t so bad off that they had no options, but he’d like to prevent any further delays in his recovery, if possible.
Echo nodded, shoulders relaxing from their tense position. “Y-Yeah, I could try that.” He assented, spacing out a little bit as Patch started talking about timings and logistics as he tried to get his heart to go back to normal speed.
A vacant thought came to mind and he huffed a small laugh. “I’m probably way below my growth curve now, right?” He mused, shooting Patch an amused glance.
As a cadet, the dreaded growth curve had placed him loosely in the 30th percentile, with cadets 20th percentile or lower were placed on supervised meals and usually earned increased scrutiny from the Kaminoans. One of Echo’s batchers had been just under that during their 6th year of training, but thankfully he’d been able to make it up in time for their final trainings.
“Obviously those don’t apply to your situation, but yes, I did have to fight with the medscanner earlier when it thought I was scanning a cadet.” Patch rolled his eyes with a beleaguered expression, amused despite himself.
Echo snickered at that, very familiar with Patch’s ongoing war with his medscanner. Not a single session went by without Patch aggressively smashing the buttons on his new scanner and groaning about how his old one had been much better before an overeager shiny spilled their kaf all over it.
“All those fundraising galas and you’d think the Republic would think to invest in some waterproof medscanners.” He’d griped at the time.
Patch huffed again before explaining. “Thankfully, we use a different metric for vode with amputations— same one as civvies, actually. It’s not the same as a growth curve, but it says you should be at least ten pounds heavier before we start seeing some improvements in your bone density.”
Echo nodded reluctantly. “And when can I get back in the field?” He asked, prosthetic leg tapping in anticipation.
Patch let out a slow breath. “Honestly, I don’t know of any comparable trooper in your situation for me to be able to answer that question. I can tell you that right now, the biggest limiting factors are your osteoporosis, your weight, your activity tolerance, and the quality of your current prosthetics.”
Echo opened his mouth to interject, but Patch kept going. “Now, I know that Tech has been working on some alternatives to your current prosthetics, and as long as he runs those by me first, I’m happy to have you try them out, and once you’re no longer a fall risk, we can discuss training sessions beyond our current resistance training. Your respiration used to be another limiting factor, but that’s already starting to look up.” At that, he shot Echo a pleased look.
“I know it might not feel like you’re making progress, but we’ve got a game plan. Continuing the vita-mix shakes, resistance training with the exercise bands I gave you and supervised walks around the barracks and sessions here. Eventually we can move to more challenging forms of physical activity and aerobic exercise.”
He gave Echo a meaningful look. “Recovery is a marathon, not a sprint.”
Echo sighed ruefully before offering the other a wry smile. “ I know— but I used to finish marathons in less than three hours.”
Patch sighed exhaustedly at that, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, we can’t all have an ARC Trooper’s stamina, so for now, try to keep pace with the rest of us, yeah?”
Echo’s smile morhped into something a little more genuine. “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
——————————————————
“I think we should tell him,” Fives argued, deep in conversation with Jesse, Rex, and Hunter as they debated whether to tell Echo about the inhibitor chips.
“It’s not that we want to keep it from him– it’s just…” Jesse hesitated, unsure of how to continue.
“He’s saying it’s risky, and is it a risk we really have to take?” Hunter asked. Sure, he liked Echo– he was honest and down-to-earth in a way that a lot of regs weren’t. He’d been the one to suggest that they set up an unofficial security detail until GAR command made up their mind about what to do with such an obvious security threat– or asset– in their ranks.
Nothing official, of course, given that he’d only discussed it with his own squad. Already, Hunter could see the way that Tech looked forward to showing Echo his new plans for his prosthetics, and how Wrecker had attempted to make a Lula-Two to keep him company in the barracks— don’t ask, it hadn’t turned out well. And Crosshair had nearly gotten (another) demerit for turning his toothpicks into projectiles when a gaggle of natborns had cracked a joke about placement of charging ports within earshot of Echo.
He liked Echo, but he wouldn’t risk his brothers’ safety– not on this. “I’m not saying we don’t ever tell him. Just wait until the time’s right– until he proves himself. I hate to say it, but do we even know whose side he’s on?”
“Hasn’t he proved himself enough?!” Fives exclaimed, fuming. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that Echo could be trusted— why couldn’t they see that?
This time, it was Rex who spoke up. “What if Echo’s chip is still active? He’s ineligible for the dechipping hypo, so he’ll have to have it surgically removed at some point. Would you really rather put him through an unknown brain surgery instead of explaining it to him outright? Or are you suggesting that his chip stays in?”
“I’m not suggesting any of that.” Hunter clarified, solidifying his stance. “But if we’re going to take this risk, we should be strategic about when we do it. We’ve still got a good 300 men on-planet waiting for another shipment of the de-chipping hypos, and medbay is backed-up enough that Echo probably won’t see the inside of a surgical unit until we’re off this rock.”
He gave the others a searching look. “If I’m wrong about this, that’s one man’s trust I’ll have to earn back. But if I’m right… that’s the end of the Republic as we know it.”
Fives swallowed thickly, hating himself for it, but Hunter was right. He’d never doubt his brother in a million years, but if the whole Republic was really at stake here, it was bigger than him and Echo– bigger than the 501st.
He just hoped that, when Echo found out, that he could forgive him for it.
