Omega's words hang in the air like vengeful ghosts, promising to haunt their dreams for a long, long time.
I don't want to die here!
Wrecker – who has stared death in the face and laughed – trembles as he clutches his youngest vod to his chest, eyes wide with confusion and horror. Echo is beside him, looking similarly stricken. Tech remains frozen on the bottom bunk, his expression distant as the horizon.
In the silence, Omega's wheezing breaths seem to echo through the cabin, accompanied only by the metronomic drip of her blood onto the floor. The cannula sways back and forth, clinging to the torn medical tape at her elbow. It's all something out of a nightmare – confusing and surreal yet horribly vivid.
The infernal quiet boils over and Echo feels himself erupt. "What the fuck?" He says in a rush, voice tinged with hysteria. He turns sharply to Tech, his brother still in a state of suspended animation. "Tech?" He barks, then again, "Tech!"
The polymath jumps to his feet, gripping the edge of the top bunk for support.
"I believe…" He begins in a strangled tone, swallows, and starts again. "I believe Omega is experiencing a fever-induced state of delirium. It should pass in a few minutes." Moving on autopilot, he turns to grab the medscanner and unceremoniously passes it to Echo. "Would you calibrate this while I bandage her arm?"
The strain in Tech's voice and the haunted cast of his expression have Echo looking to Wrecker for some kind of reassurance, but the man is singularly focused on the child in his arms. Echo follows his eyes, risking another glance at their sister. He hopes in vain that his eyes have somehow deceived him, that she isn't as bad as they initially thought, but no. If anything, she looks worse the longer he stares – flushed red and drenched in sweat, eyelids swollen and veined with purple.
Echo's gut twists painfully as he boots up the device. Tech rifles through the medkit, retrieving bacta and a roll of gauze. He turns back to Wrecker, movements so careful they're almost robotic. Despite their scrutiny, Tech doubts - or rather hopes - that his brothers overlook the way his fingers tremble as they detach the cannula and set it aside. When he applies pressure to the crook of her elbow, Omega moans. It's a weak, unconscious sound, but Tech freezes, all the same. His heart pounds against his ribcage, her panicked shrieks still ringing through his head.
I don't want to die here!
The way she had looked at him - the terror in her eyes, the desperation with which she fought to get away from him - him, her brother, who is supposed to protect her and keep her safe. Tech would destroy everything he's ever built to ensure Omega never looks at him that way again.
Losing himself to a spiral of doubt, Tech must delay too long, the quiet and the stillness finally becoming too much for Wrecker. The hulking clone adjusts Omega in his arms, staring down at Tech imploringly. "She's sweating buckets, Tech."
"I can see that." He replies shortly, continuing his work on her arm. He intends for that to be the end of it, but Wrecker clearly isn't satiated.
"Should we hook her up to another bag thingy?" He says, desperate to feel like they're doing something.
Another moan rattles Omega's chest, her whole body tensing with the effort. She feels almost brittle beneath Tech's hands. His face hardens, tone like ice. "Given her delirium, I do not think that is a good idea."
Wrecker's eyes go wide, glimmering with moisture. "Well what else are we supposed to do?"
Tech ties off the bandage with a definitive rip of gauze. "I can administer fluids through a single multi-dose injection," he says, the edge in his voice now deadly sharp, "It's just difficult to get the dosage right, which is why I wanted to avoid the risk by using the IV, if I could."
He pivots on his heel, returning the supplies before Echo hands him the calibrated scanner, fear and uncertainty warping his ashen face. Tech tries not to acknowledge it. He's about to instruct Wrecker to place Omega on the bunk when he notices the girl's discarded pillow and blanket, each now damp with perspiration. He looks back to Omega, her skin shining and hair plastered to her forehead.
A dizzying helplessness almost knocks Tech off his feet. Omega hasn't been able to keep anything down, and Wrecker is right; she's sweating so much, keeping her hydrating is going to be impossible, even if he knew he could administer the injection correctly, which he isn't sure he can, but he has to because it's the only way Omega will get fluids at all, otherwise she'll dehydrate completely, experiencing even worse nausea and fatigue, not to mention severe cramping and confusion and why didn't he give her a stronger sedative when he knew that fevers could cause delusions, especially in someone of her size? Why didn't he insist on the IV sooner? What was wrong with him? How could he be so–
Tech jumps at the pressure of a hand against his shoulder. Echo meets his eyes with a fervent expression, already moving to replace the bedding with a fresh set. Tech blinks, wrenching his thoughts into a semi-coherent sequence and motioning for Wrecker to come forward.
The clone gently lowers Omega onto the bunk, scarcely breathing for fear of somehow disturbing her. Once settled, his eyes lock onto a felt ear peeking out from underneath the bunk. Lula and Trooper must have been knocked to the floor during whatever happened before he and Echo came running in.
Warmth flares in Wrecker's chest for just a moment, relief that there is something he can do to help his little sister. He bends quickly to retrieve the toys and is about to return them to Omega's side when Tech cuts him off, seemingly unaware of his brother's presence as he pushes Omega's hair back and levels the medscanner at her temple. Wrecker falters, suddenly unsure, instead clutching the toys against him as Tech makes his assessment, Trooper's wooden frame making small squeaks of protest under the force of his grip.
They wait one… two… three beats before the scanner chimes its result. "104.1." Tech reports grimly.
The number makes Echo's blood run cold, his mind winnowing through the half dozen articles Tech had sent him last night. A 104° fever is cause for hospitalization in most human children – kriff, many adults, for that matter. "Tech…"
His vod sets the medscanner aside without a word. He grabs a clean rag from the small pile beside the medkit and presses it gently to Omega's forehead. "I had hoped that the fever reducer would've kicked in by now." He admits. There is a heavy silence as Tech moves the cloth to the juncture of Omega's throat, pulse thundering beneath her skin. He fails to suppress a wince. "We have the supplies necessary for the infusion. I will just need time to make sure the proportions are correct."
His tone remains hardened, but there's a slight tremor that Echo doesn't miss. "Ok," he says, apprehension drawing out each syllable, "and what about after the injection? What happens then?"
Tech hesitates, wringing the cloth in his hands. "I…. I don't know…"
Echo blinks, certain he's misheard. "You don't know?" He questions, voice simmering.
"I- I…" Tech stammers, but Echo doesn't let him finish.
"You're the one that told us to wait!" He roars, pushing into Tech's space. "You're the one that said it was too soon to worry and now you don't know? Are you fucking kidding me?"
Wrecker reaches for Echo as if to pull him back but Tech has already snapped to attention, pushing against Echo with equal force. "In the last week alone, we have been to three different systems, each with thousands of known illnesses and hundreds of overlapping symptoms." His voice sparks with intensity. "I am doing my best but it's not… I'm not…" – enough.
The truth sinks like a stone in Tech's stomach, nausea rippling through him like a current. "I c-can't… I'm… I can't…" His mouth goes dry, peripheral vision dissolving into static.
Tech is usually one to embrace the unknown, to see it as an opportunity rather than a deterrent. All of his curiosity has left him now, replaced by heady, suffocating fear. There is no assurance in the probabilities rattling around his skull. There is no peace in the data he acquires because this is his sister, not a kriffing statistic or a hypothetical. The few theories he does have are not promising, but if any of them prove to be accurate, Omega could die, and it will be entirely his fault. His negligence will have killed his little sister.
Agony works its way out of him in a low, guttural moan that splinters into a cry. Color, light, and sound all blur together in a dizzying whirlwind. He tries to breathe, tries to get a hold of himself, but the same thought keeps ringing in his head, over and over like a punishment.
I've killed my little sister. I've killed my little sister.
Tech squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead in an attempt to anchor himself. Blood pounds in his ears, heartbeat in his throat as he chokes on air.
Echo watches in stunned horror. He has never, ever seen Tech like this - didn't think he could get like this, on some level. Echo stutters, eyes hopelessly darting around the room. He wants to help, wants someone to tell him what to do, but he's at a loss. It's Wrecker who steps forward, the suredness of his stride at odds with the aching sadness in his eyes.
When he speaks, Echo is surprised by the soft, measured tone of his voice. "Aw, Tech, we haven't done this in awhile, huh?" As he speaks, his hands work swiftly at the fastenings of his chestplate. "Been a shit couple of days to start with, and now Meg…" He falters a bit, clearing his throat as he removes the armor and gently sets it on the floor.
Tech's back is turned as Wrecker approaches, speaking in the same even tone. "It's alright, mate. You're alright." Tech flinches as Wrecker's arms close around him. For a long moment, the brothers stand in a tentative embrace. Then - by just a fraction - Tech relaxes and Wrecker tightens his hold.
To Wrecker's knowledge, Tech hasn't had an episode like this in almost two years. It happened a lot more when they were cadets and still regularly subjected to enhancement testing. Tech would be stolen away, often for days at a time, and come back completely overloaded, sometimes barely verbal. It had taken unfortunate trial and error to learn the ways Tech needed comfort in those moments, but his brothers never gave up.
Tech continues to sob, voice frayed. "I c-can't… I can't h-h-help…"
"Hey, that's not true." Wrecker insists. "We know you're doing everything you can. Ain't nobody gonna take better care of our girl than you."
Tech jerks hard as if he's been struck, a voiceless whine escaping his throat. Echo remains frozen in place, a wound opening deep inside him at the sight of his vod reduced to such a state.
Wrecker's face twists, but his words remain gentle. "We're all her family, mate. This isn't just on you." After a moment, he admits, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. That wasn't fair. I know you're doing your best."
Tech shakes his head, breath hissing through clenched teeth. Echo's never been more ashamed of himself. Heart in his throat, he takes a hesitant step forward. "I'm sorry, too." He says, the hoarseness of his voice an uncomfortable reminder of just how badly he'd lost his head. Clearing his throat, he starts again. "You were trying to keep us safe, and I can't fault you for that."
Please don't fault yourself, he wants to say, but doesn't. If there's one thing he believes Tech can do - even in the midst of an emotional episode - it's find the strength to argue with him. Echo doesn't want that, doesn't want Tech to overthink things anymore. He needs a distraction, something to pull his brilliant mind out of whatever abyss it's fallen into.
"So…" Echo says without any real confidence, "we've almost finished fixing the port-side transformer." It's what he and Wrecker had been working on before Omega screamed, before they sprinted onto the ship and she said those six horrible words. Echo shivers. "The, uh… the shield projector doesn't look too great. We should at least try and recalibrate it before our next job."
He feels stupid, rambling about repairs while their ad is sick and his brother is in distress. Wrecker turns his head, though, a small, encouraging smile pulling at his mouth, and Echo decides not to fight it. He runs through every possible repair and update they could make to the ship, knowing full-well they won't get to half of it within the next standard year. As he talks, the awkwardness fades and the guilt gripping his chest slowly begins to unravel. Perhaps Tech wasn't the only one in need of a distraction.
After a few minutes, Tech's breathing has settled and the feral look is gone from his eyes. Wrecker's hold has clearly relaxed but neither clone moves away from the other. Echo is blathering about a new thermal-control coating for the hull when the scraping of metal makes everyone jump.
Gonky hobbles up the loading ramp, the tool box on its head dangerously close to pitching over. Echo rushes out of the hold, using his scomp to swipe the box into his arms.
"Sorry, buddy." He exhales, adjusting his grip. "We forgot about you."
The droid shifts so that its visual sensor is pointed back toward the bunks. GNK models aren't known for complex vocalizations, but Echo swears there's something like concern in the droid's low honk. His gut twists thinking how even their power droid has grown attached to Omega, how no one will be unaffected should she… if she doesn't…
Echo swallows, trying to push the thought away. He leans in and tells the droid in a low voice, "It's alright. Meg's gonna be fine." Though the words come with no guarantee, Gonky's answering trill makes him almost believe it. Straightening his spine, Echo clears his throat. "I, uh, guess I'll get back to repairs," he says, then adds quickly, "unless there's anything I can do in here."
He can see Wrecker incline his head, open his mouth to speak, but it's Tech's voice that reaches him first. "Actually, there is something you can do." The polymath gently pushes Wrecker's arms aside and adjusts his goggles, as good a sign as any that he's regaining his composure.
Echo drops the tool box onto the nearest seat and re-enters the hold as Tech explains. "I think it would be better for us to hold off on repairing the ship until Omega is recovered. She is too unwell for space travel, so the ship is not a priority at the moment." Wrecker and Echo glance at one another in surprise, but Tech continues without pause. "I believe there is something more valuable we can do in the meantime."
"'Kay." Wrecker says. "What's that?"
Tech takes a centering breath, squares his shoulders. "It's apparent that Omega wished to keep her symptoms hidden for as long as possible."
Wrecker's eyes move heavily to the floor. "Yeah, she was worried that Hunt wouldn't take her on missions anymore."
"That is certainly a contributing factor. However, I believe her upbringing at the hands of Nala Se is also a major component of Omega's discomfort."
Echo grimaces. He'd told Hunter as much, but hearing Tech lay it out in such blatant terms leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "So she didn't want us to know because she thought we'd, what, experiment on her?"
"Not necessarily," Tech clarifies, "but her extreme reaction to the antiviral and sedative would suggest some kind of trauma response." His throat tightens around the word trauma, something he never wants to associate with Omega.
The others mull over this information. Eventually, Echo speaks up. "Okay, so what do we do? How do we help her?"
Another wave of doubt crashes over Tech, but he wills his hands not to shake, holds himself steady as he forces himself to breathe. "I believe we need to create more positive associations with medical procedures. Omega is a child, and though I do not enjoy the prospect, illness and injury are inevitable parts of childhood." He fights off a shudder at the memory of his sister's tears. "She will need medical attention again, and that process will be more bearable - for everyone involved - if we can demonstrate to Omega that the procedures are not something to fear."
It seemed so simple, so obvious, but realization struck all of them in equal measure. When training runs had been especially rough, when they were disoriented and scared coming out of stasis, when nightmares made the realm of sleep unsafe, clones always had each other - their team, their brothers. Who did Omega have? In all those years, through all those tests and sleepless nights, who was there to tell Omega that she would be okay? That she wasn't alone?
Echo grits his teeth - sadness and anger, guilt and worry all burning in his stomach. No more, he thinks to himself, no more. "Alright. What do you need us to do?"
"Just sit with her." Tech says, reaching for his datapad. "Get a chill pac for her wrist. I will prepare the infusion."
He's halted midstep, boots scraping against the floor as Wrecker's hand tightens on his shoulder. Tech shoots him a perturbed look, but Wrecker's expression is as unwavering as his grip. "How about doing that after you've taken a few minutes?"
Tech's face falls, pupils flaring ever so slightly with panic. "N-no! I can't… she needs…"
Wrecker lays a hand on his opposite shoulder, voice stern but not unkind. "Meg needs you at your best, brother. Take a minute to catch your breath. We'll sit with her and ice her wrist. We'll take care of her."
Tech's breathing is still controlled, but his eyes dart frantically between Omega, Wrecker, and Echo. Whatever he see must be encouraging enough, because with a sigh, he concedes. "If she wakes up, try to gauge her awareness. The delusions shouldn't last longer than a few minutes. If they do, tell me immediately."
"We will." Echo swears.
Tech hovers, gives them all another once-over, then retreats into the fresher. Without turning on the light, the door swishes shut behind him. A thump and the shifting of fabric can be heard as his back hits the wall and he sinks to the floor.
Echo looks at Wrecker, concern lining every corner of his face. Wrecker shakes his head. "He'll be okay. Just give him a minute"
Finally, the clone bends and retrieves the toys from the floor. Like a puzzle piece sliding into place, something feels utterly right when the felt creature and little soldier are back in Omega's arms. Wrecker sighs, running a gentle hand through his sister's hair. "See what happens without you, kid? We're all falling to pieces."