It’s only via monumental effort that Kix manages to separate them long enough to give Echo a proper exam. The whole time, Fives is hovering outside the door, peeking in through the plastoid window whenever he thinks Kix isn’t looking. Echo isn’t much better, making forlorn tooka eyes at him and whispering a hoarse, “Can I see Fives now?” as soon as Kix finishes scanning what remains of his lower half.
He needs more care. He needs a whole team of medics and a proper neurosurgeon and about a year of physical therapy. Honestly, considering the state of his immune system, Kix shouldn’t let anyone near him right now without a sterilized hazmat suit. Echo’s shivering, though, and he flinches every time Kix comes near him with the hypo, and Kix is tired of being forced to hurt his brothers.
“Let me get you set up with an IV and some monitors first, yeah?” Kix takes Echo’s good hand in his and helps him lie back, catching him when he leans on an arm that isn’t there anymore. Kix was able to get that prosthesis (if anything so crude and painful could be deserving of the name) off him, but the legs will need more work. The sooner they can get him fitted with something decent, the better. Kix has already forwarded preliminary scans to the nearest medical base.
Echo’s eyes flutter shut as his head hits the pillow. “...’Kay.”
Kix will need to find something to cushion his implants, he realizes as he attaches the leads for an EEG and ECG. Gauze will work for now.
Carefully, watching Echo’s reaction, he slips a needle into his arm and hooks up an IV. He’ll need nutrients and fluids coming in slow and constant for the next week at least, so Kix gets him started now.
Thankfully, Echo seems to have drifted off, making Kix’s job much simpler. He’s able to wrap Echo’s head in a thick layer of gauze and clip a pulse-ox to his finger without triggering his brand-new medical phobia, and even waking him for a nasopharyngeal tube is an exercise in semiconsciousness. He’s out again by the time Kix tapes the tube down.
Even sleeping, Echo shivers, and Kix is sure the saline isn’t helping him warm up. Kix adds another instance to the endless list of times he wished he had something better to offer than scratchy hospital gowns and stiff, starchy sheets. They’re soldiers, though, and this medbay isn’t designed for long-term stays.
“Hey.” Kix rouses him with a hand on his shoulder. Echo stirs, blinking up at him with sunken eyes. “I’m going to bring Fives in now, okay?”
Echo shifts, suddenly more alert. “Now?”
“Yep. I’ll be right back.”
It takes Kix a moment to find Fives when he opens the door. He’s sitting against the wall, knees tucked up to his chest and one hand in his hair, twisting a loose curl. Next to him sits a stack of what looks like half the blankets Torrent owns, along with a zip-front jacket and a pair of sweatpants Kix recognizes as belonging to Echo. Fives saved his civvies.
“Can I come in?” Fives is on his feet in an instant, blankets gathered in his arms and looking like a kid on Life Day, if one could ignore the bags under his eyes. “Is he okay?”
Kix nods, stepping out of the way as Fives rushes in the door. “Be careful,” he calls, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Echo.”
“Hey, Fives.”
Echo’s monitors are connected to Kix’s datapad, and they’ll alert him if anything goes wrong. Kix leaves them to it.
It’s hard to breathe around the tube in his throat, and Echo ends up gasping open-mouthed against Fives’s shoulder as he squeezes him. Fives pulls him into his lap, gentle but unfazed by his condition. “I missed you,” he whispers into Echo’s hospital gown.
“You saw me an hour ago.” Echo tries to laugh, but it comes out watery and weak.
Fives pulls him closer. “Shut the fuck up, Ey’ika.” A tear drips onto Echo’s bare collarbone. Fives pulls back just enough to press his forehead to the heavy layer of gauze covering Echo’s head. Echo closes his eyes.
“I brought you some real clothes,” Fives murmurs after a few minutes. He sits up and shoves the pile of things he’d come in with into Echo’s lap. “Well, most of that is blankets, but your clothes are on top.”
Echo stares down at the pile, momentarily speechless. These are his clothes. His old clothes. According to Kix, he’s been missing for six months, and these are his clothes.
“Um,” he tries, and pauses to swallow. “Um, th’thank you. Can you…? I don’t know if I can…”
Fives doesn’t make him finish the sentence, just helps him out of the gown and into the sweats, doing his best to avoid as much humiliation as possible.
Somehow, the thick, soft fabric reminds him of how cold he is. It feels like ice on his skin, and he shivers. Fives tucks a few blankets around him, but it’s not enough.
“C’mere, you fucking dumbass,” he grumbles when Fives sits back in his chair like his job’s been done. “Get your ass in bed.”
All the nervous tension goes out of Fives at once, and Echo’s hardly blinked before Fives is in the bed with him, shoving him over and burrowing under the covers. Fives has always been adaptable, and he compensates for Echo’s… everything without needing to ask questions.
Here, tucked carefully into Fives’s chest, with his arms and legs supporting everywhere Echo can’t put weight, Echo is finally warm. He can feel Fives’s heat sinking into the implants in his spine, reaching the frost the blankets couldn’t touch.
“What, one life-altering injury and suddenly you’re the big spoon?” he quips, letting Fives adjust until he can put his chin on Echo’s head.
Fives laughs, and it bubbles wetly in his chest. “Just this once. I feel weird back here.”
Echo wants to keep joking, but exhaustion is pulling heavy at his head again, and his eyes are already drifting closed. “Love you,” he manages, unable and unwilling to resist sleep any longer.
“Love you, too.”