This was supposed to be something else entirely, but then the characters took over.
There are mentions of torture and female mutilation, and suicidal ideation. Nothing explicit, but is there.
Please take care of yourselves guys, and proceed with caution if these trigger you.
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to those who own them.
79s is bustling, as usual. It's not often that we get anything close to downtime, and even less often that we get downtime on Coruscant. But when we do, 79's is the place we go to unwind and decompress.
And that means getting steaming drunk.
Hunter and Tech have gone back to the bar for the next rounds, Echo has gone over to talk to some of his buddies from the 501st.
Wrecker is already downing his third pint and chattering animatedly about our latest mission, sloshing his drink everywhere and teasing the scowling Crosshair about his greater kill count. I laugh at his antics from my seat between them, ducking when a thick arm is thrown outwards and trying to stay out of what I affectionately call the 'splash zone'.
That's when I see our dear sniper's scowl morph into a smirk, and I know full well that Crosshair is planning something.
I can only watch as he starts balling up a napkin and soaking it with Wrecker's spilled beer. Quick as a whip, he launches the soaking ball at Wrecker's head at just the right moment, when our brawler was the most unbalanced. It slaps him dead centre between his eyes, making him yelp and topple from his seat. His descent is less than graceful, all flailing arms and kicking feet. I'm laughing so much that my sides hurt. Crosshair chuckles softly to himself as Wrecker drags himself upright, good eye glaring daggers at his grey haired brother.
"This calls for relat… retat… this means war!" He slurs madly, though his words hold no real heat. Crosshair just grins.
"Don't try to use big words when you're drunk, Wrecker," he taunts. "In fact, don't try to use big words, period."
"Yeah? How about I use big fists instead!" I sigh, standing between them before things can escalate. With my hands on my hips, I glare at them. I suddenly feel more like a mother than a medic.
"Boys. We're out in public. Behave."
"He started it!"
"Did not!" I groan as they both argue at the same time, and remind myself that they are only 8 year olds. Technically speaking.
Yeah, not gonna linger on that thought. At all.
"I don't care who started it! I'll finish it!" I spy the smirk they flash at each other.
"Gods, Med. You're such a mother sometimes!"
"And how exactly would you know how a mother acts, Wrecker? We're Clones. We've never needed a mother." I snort a laugh as Tech and Hunter return with the drinks.
"I beg to differ," I say with a smile. Wrecker whoops in delight as the drinks are set down, playfully fighting with Crosshair to get the first drink. Hunter flashes me a fond smirk and rolls his eyes as I shake my head.
'Don't ask.' I mouth at him. He signals an ok and slots himself into the booth.
I collapse back into my seat, turning to try and spot Echo, missing his steady presence. I reach and grab my drink as I finally find him in the crowd. He seems to be saying goodbye to his buddies and starts making his way back to our table.
It's then that things go south.
I sip my drink as he grins at me, throwing me a wink and making me blush. He's almost close enough to reach out and touch, and I'm about to do that when, out of nowhere, some slinky Twi'lek starts trying to press herself up against him. He pries her slim arms off him, apologising and saying that he's not interested. I sit up straighter when she tries to persist.
This bitch isn't going to take no for an answer.
Hunter notices my shift, but I wave off his question, getting up and taking my drink with me.
The next thing I hear almost makes me combust in pure rage.
"Oh, come on! What, not man enough to please a woman? Don't have the right parts? You're nearly all droid anyway." Her snide voice is dripping with derision as he once again turns her down. Clearly, she doesn't like being told 'no'. I see Echo's eyes dim as he shuts down, his body sagging so minutely that it would be imperceptible to those who don't know him.
Oh, that's it! This bitch is going down! I'm going to shoot that smug smile right off her ugly kriffing face!
Behind me, I hear chairs scrape as the words catch the rest of the Squad's attention, as well as those of the 501st, but I don't register them. I march the two steps closer and grab the slut by a lekku, yanking. Hard. She yelps as she's pulled away. I know that it hurts, and I take a certain pleasure in it.
"You wanna take your hands off of MY man, schutta?" I purposely emphasise the word 'man', keeping an eye on Echo. She snarls at me, her hands wrapping around my wrist and trying to pry me off her.
"What did you just call me?!" I yank harder on the lekku in my grasp, forcing her head back.
"You heard me. Or do you not understand your own language, Two Tail?" I shove her away, grabbing a wrist as she tries to lash out. With all the mastery of a martial artist (thank you, Clone Force 99), I twist her wrist and slam her front first on top of a nearby table. She shrieks as her wrist groans in my grasp.
"Next time you feel the urge to insult someone, you brainless little slut, you make damn sure you tape your ugly little mouth shut! Got it?" I lift her by her skanky top and throw her to the floor. And then proceed to pour my drink over her as she shrieks profanities at me. She scrambles to her feet, looking for all the galaxy like she's going to fight me, and then bursts into tears and dashes out of the door. The bar around me erupts into cheers and hollers, none louder than those of my Squad.
Apparently this Skug has a reputation around here.
Not that I care right now. My only concern is Echo. Echo, who hasn't moved from his spot. Echo, who is currently staring at his hand and plug. Echo, who is grimacing in what I know is self-hatred.
I want that bitch to come back so I can tear her apart. No one hurts my Echo! Not after everything he's been through!
I savagely wrench my shoulder out of the grip that's suddenly landed on it. I turn with what I can only imagine is a murderous glare. It's Hunter.
Of course it's Hunter.
"Med. Get him out of here. Take him to the Marauder. We'll stay here. Comm us when you're ready for us to come back."
"Don't need to tell me, Hunter. Already planning on it." I snarl at him when he chuckles. To his credit, he straightens his face immediately.
"Right. Got it. Go. Take care of him."
I march over to Echo, slowing my pace and gently taking his hand and plug in mine.
"Echo. Echo, come on. Let's go." He nods silently, allowing me to lead him out of the bar.
The cab ride back to the spaceport is silent. I hold Echo to me, gently rocking him and whispering praises and comfort into his ear. He's trembling against me. No doubt that schutta's words are replaying in his head.
I tip the driver, and then gently coax my Trooper to follow me to the ship. He does so, silently. I lead him to the racks, gently easing him down to sit on the one closest. I kneel in front of him, once again clasping his hands between mine.
"Echo? Baby? Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking." My voice is soft, encouraging, supportive.
He goes to speak, but his voice fails and he turns his head away. I see the glisten of the tears he tries to hide from me. I cup his cheek and coax his face to mine.
"Oh. Oh, baby. It's ok. You're ok." I lift myself to sit beside him and cradle his head to my shoulder, gently rocking him.
"I-I'm sorry Med…" he finally croaks out.
"No, no, no, you don't need to apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. Oh, Echo. It's ok. I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere." He takes a shaky breath, pulling away and turning his head so he's not looking at me.
"Maybe you should…" I freeze when I hear the words.
"No." He startles, turning to me. Ok, I didn't mean it quite that harshly. I continue, gentling my voice.
"I'm not going anywhere." My heart breaks at how unsure and broken he looks.
"But… I… I can't… I can't give myself to you. I can't…" He deflates, so dejected and defeated that my heart shatters. He sighs heavily. "She was right. I may as well be a… a droid." I see red all over again, gripping his shoulders and twisting him towards me. His eyes are dull, tear tracks clear on his face.
"Corporal Echo, now you listen to me. You are not some kriffing droid! You are a man! A damn fine man! One of the best men I've ever had the honour of knowing! You do not let some jumped-up, skanky, disease ridden little slut tell you who you are!" He looks down at his lap.
"But I can't… do anything with you. I can't… I can't give you what you want." I fold my arms.
"And what is it that I want, Echo?" The look he gives me is heart-wrenching.
"Me. All of me. I can't… I can't lay with you the way the others can." Oh Echo. My poor, poor Echo.
"That doesn't make you less of a man." He snorts in derision.
"Yeah, right. Except where it counts. Haven't got the parts." I want to kill the bitch for making Echo feel like this, knowing that her words will be repeating in his head.
There's a reason he was nicknamed Echo.
I need a way to break that cycling. I need to distract him from those thoughts. And I need him to see my point.
I draw a shaky breath, my hands going to my top, pulling it over my head. I remove my padded bra, exposing my heavily scarred chest, where my breasts used to be. I quiver at the sight of them, memories of my screams and my torturer's sadistic laughter tearing through my mind. I shake them from my head, stamping on them violently.
This is about Echo.
He watches me, curious. I jut my chest out to him, urging him to touch the ugly scars. He does, stroking them with reverence.
"Do you remember when I was captured? How I was after you guys rescued me? Do you remember how I wouldn't let any of you touch me? How I felt like I was somehow less of a woman because he mutilated my breasts so badly they had to be surgically removed? Do you remember what you said to me?" He nods.
"Your scars tell the world how strong you are. They're badges of honour, better than any medal because they tell the story of what you've survived."
"Exactly. You know what I'm going to tell you?" He huffs.
"It's different." I cock an eyebrow.
"How so?" He gestures his hand over his lower body.
"These aren't scars. They're prosthetics. Droid parts." I sigh, gently gripping his face.
"And I love them. Just as much as I love you. I don't care if you're all machine, half machine or, heck, 283rd of a machine! I. Love. You." He snorts.
"Is it possible to be 283rd of anything?" I wave him off.
"Ok, not the point. Though it's good to see that humour. I love you. And your prosthetics. Because they're part of you." He still doesn't look convinced.
Ok. Time to try something else.
"Do you know when it was that I fell in love with you?" He shakes his head. "When we pulled you out of that kriffing cryo chamber." Now he's incredulous.
"What? Why?"
"What did you say to Rex? When you came round?"
"That…" he huffs a laugh as he replays that moment. "I have a big headache." I grin.
"Yep. You had been through hell, and you came out of it with a shit-eating grin and a joke on your tongue. Your body had been destroyed, but your soul was still intact. The most important part of you was still whole. That's what I fell in love with." I pull him closer, laying a gentle kiss on his lips, one he, happily, responds to.
"I went through hell and I imploded." I sigh deeply, dropping my gaze. "I'm not… I'm not as strong as you. When he did this to me," I gesture to my chest, "I wanted to die. I was so close, on so many nights after my rescue, to putting a blaster in my mouth and swallowing a plasma bolt." I swallow the sudden lump in my throat, blinking away the tears as I admit it out loud for the first time. I look back at him with a renewed determination. "But then I remembered you, and what you'd been through. You saved me, in more ways than one. You kept me going. You, Echo. No one else. You." He blinked at me, frowning in concern.
"You… you contemplated suicide?" I nod.
"Came pretty damn close, too. Remember when Tech couldn't find one of his side arms?" Echo curses under his breath, wrapping his arms around me and dragging me into a tight embrace.
"Med, cyar'ika, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have known." I laugh.
"Hey, who's supposed to be comforting who here?" He chuckles.
"I'm ok, sweetheart. Really." I don't believe him, not fully, but he's starting to look more like himself again.
"Yeah well, next time some air-headed schutta tries to insult you, you just remember that those legs are the legs that carried you out of hell. Remember that that arm and those cranial implants saved an entire planet, plus two battalions. Not one. Two. In fact, you just remember that it was you who personally turned the tide of the war in our favour. Right?" He grins that shit-eating grin I fell for in the first place.
"Yes, Ma'am." I laugh softly, stroking his cheek with my fingers.
"You going to be ok now?" He nods. His grin softens to a warm smile, the sparkle beginning to return to his eyes.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm going to be ok." He strokes my naked shoulder and arm, eyes soft with care and concern. "What about you? Are you alright?"
"Me? No hotter mess than me, baby." He grins.
"Emphasis on the 'hotter'." The kiss he plants on my lips quickly heats to boiling point, and I find myself suddenly straddling his lap. We're panting when we break apart.
"You know, you worry that you can't perform in… certain areas. You sure you don't want to experiment? See how sensitive you are?"
"You know something? Yeah. I'd like that. Besides, there's something I've been wanting to try with this." The whir of his scomp plug makes me shiver and groan. He looks contemplative all of a sudden.
"What?"
"You think, if I ask really nicely, d'you think Tech could make me an… upgrade?" He jerks his hips into me, making me gasp.
"I think, personally, he'd jump at the chance. But, be warned, it's very likely you won't only get one." He grins, wagging his eyebrows.
"Could be a franchise. Something to aim for when this war is over."
"Tech's Toys. A cock for every occasion." Our laughter fills the ship as we attempt to out-pun each other, pain and heartache melting back into the dark abyss where they belong.
I know that we'll have to deal with them again. I know that neither of us will ever truly be 'alright'. But, I also know that neither of us are alone, that we will never be alone. We're scarred by life, physically and mentally, but they're our scars, our stories.
And, one day, we might even be proud of them. Until then, we'll be proud of each other's and the stories they tell.
For any of you ladies out there who have undergone mastectomies, single or total, you are beautiful. You are strong. You have been through hell, and come out of it a winner.
For everyone, your scars don't define you, they tell your story. They tell what you have survived.
Love yourselves, because there is only one you.