Three quiet moments on the Resolute. Three chances to reflect on what is, what was, and what could be.

Part Two: Fives & Echo
Brothers

The midday sun shone hot and bright, sending sparkling points of light dancing across the ocean surface. The light bounced up through the cabin window, thrown open to allow the breeze inside, and shimmered in patterns upon the ceiling. The sound of waves punctuated the gentle creak of wood in a cooling slssh.

Echo lay in his bunk, watching the reflected sunlight play on the wood. Navigational charts lay draped across his chest, forgotten in the moment. The shade of the cabin offered a calm respite from the oppressive summer sun. Of the two officers' cabins, quartermaster Denal had one, while he had been granted the other. He counted his blessings that he was afforded such a privilege.

He wasn't alone, though. There was a slight grunt, and a booted leg came dangling into his field of vision from the bunk above. Echo sighed and smacked at it.

"Fives, you're interrupting my concentration."

Another grunt came from above, louder and more indignant. "Haven't heard those charts rustle in a while. Sounds like you're concentrating real well." The boot did not move.

Echo sighed again. It was playful banter, and he was glad of the company, even if he would sometimes rather be left to his own thoughts. Family was everything. He wouldn't trade his cabinmate for all the quiet time in the world. Echo closed his eyes briefly and sent up thanks that he could still be with his youngest brother.

They were only a few years apart, he and his brothers. Hevy was the eldest, then Droidbait, then himself, then Cutup, and finally Fives. Five brothers, all born a year after one another. His parents had been, as Mandalorians liked to say, "busy". Growing up, Echo and his brothers had navigated a contentious relationship. Hevy and Fives were both headstrong, a little reckless, mirror bookends to the family. Droidbait––nicknamed for his fondness over the silly wooden dolls that the Jedi often enchanted to dance around for amusement and coin––tried his hardest to be the peacemaker, and Cutup––the family jokester––took every opportunity to land a witty comment or sarcastic barb. Which left Echo, right in the middle, feeling lost. Unable to find his place in the group, and never wanting to get in trouble, Echo would remind his brothers of whatever instructions their parents had told them. Cutup had started calling him "Echo". Of course. Desperate to avoid his siblings' attention, he had turned to books and maps, numbers and charts.

Everything changed when their parents died. Even with a healthy respect for the sea, tragedy can strike, and a sudden and vicious storm had taken their fishing boat as they tried to return to port. The brothers had grieved––loudly, viciously––and then bonded together more tightly than they had ever thought possible. They still looked to Hevy to lead, but Echo found himself the unexpected second, the voice of reason, and the echo of their parents became a welcome ground rather than a grating annoyance. They worked together to re-establish their family's fishing trade, and were a stronger team and better siblings for it.

And then came the war.

Echo and Fives had been assigned to the 501st under Captain Rex. Hevy, Droidbait, and Cutup had...not. Suddenly the boys found their family split apart again. The 501st had shipped out before Echo could find out where his brothers had gone. The war between the Republic and the Separatists was fought on so many fronts that they could be halfway across the world for all Echo knew, and-––though he kept asking, at every dock and pub in every port of call––he had never gotten any information about them. All he had left was Fives.

Fives, who had proven to be a more competent sailor than almost anyone else he'd ever met. Fives, who was more headstrong than ever because of his own confidence, and not because he was trying to be like Hevy. Fives, who didn't need anyone or anything telling him what to do, with the exception of Captain Rex, and even then only because Fives respected him and not because he was Fives' commanding officer. Fives, who never backed down from a challenge.

Fives, who was still his little brother.

Echo would fight the sea itself for his brother.

The booted leg withdrew itself from Echo's field of vision, only to be replaced by Fives' head, leaning over the bunk to look down on him. "What are you working on anyway?" Fives asked. "We're in well-charted waters."

Echo reached for the topmost chart on his chest and waved it at Fives. "This is where we're headed," he replied. "And the rumors of a Separatist stronghold aren't the only rumors about this region. The data on it is practically ancient, and speculative at best. It hasn't been mapped well. I've been asking at ports for any information on this area and compiling notes."

"Ah." Fives paused, letting his eyes drift away. His face grew vacant, distant. "Have you been asking about…"

"Always. Every time."

"And…"

"Still nothing."

Fives gave a small nod and pulled his head back up out of Echo's sight. Echo raised the chart, studying it, but soon gave up and resumed staring at the patterns of light on the ceiling. The air felt heavy all of a sudden. Words left unspoken hung in the cabin, pressing down on his chest, his head, his tongue. Words that needed to be said. Words that could never be said.

"What if we…"

Fives' voice broke the silence. And still the air felt heavy.

"What if we never see them again?"

To hear spoken aloud the thought which Echo tried to bury every time he went to port sent a shock of pain through his heart. He bit his lip and took a deep, steadying breath. When he trusted his voice enough, he shoved the charts off of his chest and got to his feet. He looked at Fives in the top bunk. Fives stared at the half-mended fishing net in his hands, his face an outward expression of the stabbing numbness in Echo's body.

Echo reached out and took hold of Fives' hands, fishing net and all. "We will see them again vod'ika." His voice betrayed him, and he forced the words past the bitter lump in his throat. "They're our brothers; we'll see them again."

Fives nodded. Echo gave his hands a comforting squeeze. "And until we do, we have each other."

Fives lifted his eyes to meet Echo's gaze. Tears threatened to fall, but were blinked back. Were they Fives', or Echo's? Did it matter? Echo climbed into the top bunk and pulled Fives into his arms, resting his chin against the top of Fives' head. This was their moment, and theirs alone, a quiet moment with his younger brother. Echo was once again grateful for the privacy of the cabin that they shared, that no other crew member could intrude in their private world.

When Fives spoke again, it was a whisper that Echo barely caught: "I'm glad I have you, ori'vod."

Echo smiled into Fives' hair. The weight in the air lifted, brushed away by the cool ocean breeze. Echo held his brother a little closer.

"You have me, vod'ika. You'll always have me."