Chapter Text
There were many things that surprised Echo about the Bad Batch when he joined. They were tactile, far more than any other clones Echo had met. They were odd, though that was a given. Though what surprised him the most was just how young his new brothers are.
It had taken him a while to notice, features are rather hard to make out behind helmets, but when he got his first good look at them he was floored. He almost asked why there were kids on the battlefield before biting his tongue. Later, after everything had calmed down and he finally got to sit and converse with them all, he asked.
Hunter had explained that they were in fact younger than the rest of the Clones on the field, though Echo could have told him that just on the way they all looked. Hunter was clearly the oldest, but Echo could only assume he'd barely passed the age of 10 when they met. His tattoo helped age him, made him look harder and rougher around the edges. Wrecker was already soft looking, though Echo knew that he was hiding muscle under all of it. Wrecker's youth showed in how he conducted himself, curious and wide eyed and a little clumsy. Echo couldn't help but be reminded of Fives when they were both cadets.
Then there was Tech and Crosshair. Hunter had confirmed early on that these two were still teenagers. They were children being sent out to do things no one should have to. There had been a split second where Echo had thought of Commander Tano who he had seen go from youthful and innocent to battle hardened in only a few years. The two brothers couldn't hide it. Tech seemed to embrace it, though maybe it was just in the way his goggles made his eyes look larger. He was still soft around the edges, despite the weary bags under his eyes, tired from seeing sights that no one his age should have to see.
Crosshair leaned away from it. The fact he had silver hair helped him look a bit older, but not by much. Echo couldn't look for long, or else he'd be reminded of a certain young Jedi General who had told them all he was just 19 when the clone wars started.
After the explanation, Hunter had pulled out an old holo-frame, bringing up an old image of the squad. Wrecker had pulled them all into a tight hug, Crosshair actively trying to escape and Tech having kicked out his legs. Hunter was in the middle, looking squished between his brothers. There was a wide grin on Wrecker's face and all the others were smiling despite the odd positions. They were children, cadets. They were babies.
"This was after our first mission, about two years ago now." Hunter explained, smiling far too fondly for the circumstances. Didn't he know how fucked up this was? Echo could only stare horrified at the image. "I was eight. Wrecker was seven. Tech and Cross had just hit six."
They had just finished training. What were the Kaminoans thinking? What was the Republic thinking? Sending out children to do their dirty work, sending them on suicide missions with no guarantee that they'd return. Some tiny voice in the back of Echo's mind, a little seed of doubt sowing itself in there, spoke to him. The Republic is happy to send out twelve year old Jedi with the excuse of Peace Keeping. They don't care about how old they are.
If Echo watched his brothers a little closer after that night, he did not tell them. They were too young for this, so he would do his best as their big brother to protect them.
Watching Crosshair, young Crosshair who looked too much like Fives, Cutup, Commander Tano, General Skywalker, shoot them from across the hangar had torn Echo's heart in two.