He thought he was braver than this.

Echo doesn't have the courage to ask while they're still on Anaxes, or in the days and weeks and months that follow. The Bad Batch is in high demand, it seems, and no one bats an eye at them suddenly having a fifth member: they just hand them their missions and send them off.

Much as he's grateful to be busy (grateful for the distraction), the question still hangs in the back of his mind, a specter of a fear he can't quite name. He knows Fives is gone. He's known since he woke up.

"How did it happen?" he asks, turning the words over on his tongue. Practicing. He's rooming by himself, in a corner the others quickly converted from a utility closet to makeshift quarters. Privacy's no small thing on a ship this size. He doesn't know how to thank them.

He doesn't know a lot of things right now.

Echo takes a shaky breath and keys in the comm. code.

Rex answers almost immediately. He always does. There's a sharp pang in Echo's chest. "Echo," Rex says, and his face breaks into a smile. "Been a while."

"A month," Echo says. He's been with the Bad Batch for three. It feels so much longer.

"You holding up all right?"

"Yeah," Echo says quickly. Too quickly. Rex's smile fades. "I just – I have something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Anything."

"How did it happen?"

Rex goes still. "How did what happen?" he asks gently.

Echo wraps his hand around his cybernetic arm and squeezes until he can breathe again. "Fives," he says hoarsely. His chest pangs again. "What happened to Fives?"

He can see the ache in Rex's eyes, even in the pale blue of the holographic projection. "Echo—"

"I need to know."

"Echo, don't do this."

"Please."

Rex drags a hand across his scalp and blows out a breath. There're dark circles under his eyes, loss and grief given form. He hesitates, holds for a moment too long, and Echo realizes with a sharp breath that he's thinking about lying.

"You deserve the truth," Rex mumbles, more to himself than to Echo. He's not looking up; he's staring at his hands. When he does raise his eyes, they're haunted.

"I can handle it."

"It happened so fast," Rex says quietly. "He was – he was trying to tell me something. There was something wrong and he wanted General Skywalker and I to know about it. But he wasn't right. He was rambling and he wasn't making sense and then Fox showed up with his Guard and Fives went for my pistol."

Echo's heart is in his throat. "They warned him," Rex says. "Hell, I warned him. Fox had to fire."

On another clone. On a brother. Echo's eyes sting. Burn. "He died in my arms," Rex says. His voice is muted. Guilty. "I couldn't – he put the General and I in a ray shield. We couldn't stop him. But he died at peace, Echo. He said he was at peace."

That's something. That feels like nothing. Echo nods. His throat is too tight to speak.

"If you need to talk—"

"I know," Echo croaks, blinking, blinking. There are hot streams on his cheeks. He told himself he wouldn't cry. "I know. You'd go to the ends of the galaxy for me, Rex. I know that."

It doesn't do anything to ease the pain in Rex's face. "I'm here, brother," Rex says, and raises his hand. Echo presses his palm against it.

For a moment, it's like Rex is here with him. For a moment, he doesn't feel so desperately alone.

"I have to go," Rex says at last. "But if you need me—"

"I'll call."

"I love you, ner'vod," Rex says quietly, and then he's gone.

Echo doesn't move for a long time. Doesn't lower his hand. When he finally manages to crawl to his bunk, he doesn't sleep.

Fives, rambling. Fives, not making sense. That's not like Fives.

"What did you find?" Echo asks the darkness. "Fives, what did you find?"