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freesia-writes · 1 year

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Tech, Phee, and a Fix-It Fic

Took this post from @ashyybees-art and ran with it, though it totally got away from me. It should have been wayyyy shorter and more simple. But, alas, here we are. Also... this was really hard to write cause I'm not a huge fan of Phee just yet. :/ Sorry. Prolly cause I was elbows deep in my own Tech/OC fanfic when she came onto the scene. But it's a lil somethin to hold us over with a happy headcanon until we get further news in season three. <3

Words: 2k SPOILERS for the season 2 TBB finale! -=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Phee had always told herself she would be independent. Capable. Self-sufficient. Strong. She didn't need anyone but enjoyed the company of others… a little too much, recently. The squad of "deviant" clones had left a lasting impression in her life that she hadn't quite been able to shake, especially the demeanor and appeal of one bespectacled crew member in particular.

So when she put a tracking beacon on the Marauder, she told herself it was for practicality, for protection. She wasn't one of those clingy sorts who got too attached and fawned over someone; she was a clever and skilled woman who thought of backups and contingency plans for herself and those she… loved? It wasn't something she would utilize unless she absolutely had to; better to have it in place and not need it than to wish she had.

Something felt different the night they left. Omega, typically delighted to share anything and everything with her, had been uncharacteristically cryptic about their covert mission. She'd made an attempt to get a clue from Tech, but he was even more shifty than usual, and eye contact was enough of a struggle to get from him, let alone a straight answer. She couldn't tell if he was distant because of stress or anticipation, or perhaps she had done something to offend him? Perhaps he had changed his mind from the warmth and interest he had shown when they first arrived on Pabu?

Regardless, she had responded to his nervous little goggle adjustment with the typical flutter of the heart and a small smile. She knew him to be incredibly proficient, unassumingly strong, and incomparably intelligent. So they parted with a casual farewell, and she anticipated the next time they would see each other. Perhaps he would share what had been weighing so heavily on him for this particular mission.

She couldn't sleep that night, alternating between tossing and turning with anxious hypotheticals and drifting into periods of sleep that were punctuated with disturbing nightmares. This was unusual, and in the wee hours of the morning she gave up, heading to the balcony of her home to watch the sunrise. It wasn't an obsession, or a need to have him in her sight the whole time… just an undeniable sense of foreboding. She doubted he would react favorably to her shadowing him, but perhaps if he didn't know…

Breakfast found her equally unsuccessful in focusing on anything else. The nagging feeling had only grown, to the point that it was becoming unbearable. She hit her limit. An hour later she was prepped and in her ship, activating the tracking beacon. She'd just take a look, a quick fly-by, to assuage the unrelenting plague of worry.

It wasn't her first time having to sneak past Imperial ships, and she transmitted a trusty clearance code that hadn't failed her yet. As she descended, the radar's beeps came more quickly. She dropped into the atmosphere and her eyes were met with towering rock formations poking above the clouds; it was impossible to tell how far below the planet floor was. Her heart leapt in her chest -- there was the Marauder! It was neatly folded against one of the cliffs, perched on a perfectly-sized ledge. No sign of light or activity, however, so she took a gentle loop to see where they may have gone.

Sudden alarms notified her of the approach of incoming craft, and she peeled away to avoid being seen, diving down toward the forest canopy. Her ship was small and easy to navigate, and she lowered it into a small clearing as a handful of Imperial fighters shot overhead. She whipped out her electrobinoculars, following their path, and the scene that met her eyes made her stomach drop to her feet. Blaster bolts flew between skyrail cars, and the ships pelted them with shots on a fly by before arcing through the air to come around for another run. She spotted Hunter's red bandana leaning out the window of one of the cars as he sent a few shots at the opposite car, and then a swinging figure caught her attention.

She gasped aloud. Tech. Dangling far below the cars by a single wire, attempting to climb but moving too slowly as the fighters approached yet again. Her mind raced. What could she do? She wouldn't be able to launch fast enough before they came by again, and even if she did, she would likely be shot down, outnumbered as she was. Before she had the chance to think of any other options, a single blaster bolt fired from Tech's suspended form, breaking the skyrail coupling, and he began to free fall, along with an entire car following above him.

Simultaneous fear and focus kicked into high gear. She plotted his trajectory, fighting down the waves of nausea that broke upon her, and began to sprint into the forest. The trees and rocks seemed to reach miles into the sky above her, a sickening realization, and she picked up the pace, gasping for air but refusing to slow down.

Crashing through a wall of bushes that scraped along her arms, she let out a cry as she saw his crumpled form ahead, unmistakable with the white armor and colorful accents. His backpack, cracked in half, dangled from a sharp branch above, and his helmet had splintered, scattering shards across the clearing. Collapsing to her knees next to him, she gently rolled him onto his back, taking a sharp inhale at the horror she saw. His fall had been broken only by tree branches, each one leaving a mark as it hit him with full force. One had whipped across his head, shattering his goggles, which dangled from one ear, and horribly disfiguring his face. Dirt mixed with blood and bone, and she fought to maintain consciousness. She didn't know how extensive the damage was, but she had to get him somewhere, anywhere, and fast.

***

Shapes and shadows, muffled sounds… Waves of pain… Dreams of light, always ending in darkness. Weightlessness and water began to form in his mind. The rhythmic sound of mechanical breathing. But all was dark.

Suddenly, weight returned. He was being moved; the ground was shifting below him. He was lying on his back, as far as he could tell, but movement was nearly impossible. Everything felt so heavy, as if he were made of the thinnest glass and could shatter at a moment's notice. And the darkness, the murkiness. He thought his eyes were open but there was nothing but shadows, appearing from nowhere and startling him, taking form and then melting away.

The whirring sound of servos grew nearer, accompanied by a robotic voice, "CT-9902, can you hear me?"

It took a few swallows to remedy a dry mouth despite the recent emergence from water, and his voice cracked as he spoke, "I can."

"I am your assigned 2-1B medical droid. You have sustained heavy damage."

"Diag… diagnostic report," he breathed, fighting a rising sense of panic at the unresponsiveness of his vision. He tentatively attempted to move fingers and toes, shifting his weight to and fro, but he could see nothing but vague patches of dark and darker. As the droid recounted his injuries, his claustrophobia grew. It was irrational. It served no purpose. But the inability to snap out of it, to look around at his surroundings, felt suffocating. Focusing on the droid's analysis as a way to ground himself, he calculated the possibilities of his future.

It wasn't a fruitful endeavor, nor did it have its usual soothing effect. He had always been one to successfully employ mind over matter, logic over emotion. But the sensation of being trapped within his own body was a novel one that was proving to be insurmountable as of yet. The droid finished its debriefing, machinery indicating some kind of movement, and the pit in his stomach grew heavier.

"Where am I?" he asked with a gravelly voice.

But there was no reply.

Time stretched into eternity, and his ability to analyze and predict was significantly less sharp than he was used to. His nose was assaulted with the sterile scents of a medical bay and his ears picked up every beep, whoosh, and whir. His mouth felt dry and metallic, and the sensations throughout his body were a myriad of pain, awareness, and comfort. But his vision was gone. Almost entirely. He assessed the likelihood of what had happened, slowly bringing a hand to a heavily-bandaged face. His eyes were not covered, however, confirming his fears.

Solitude usually didn't bother him, but he found himself yearning for his brothers. The factual analysis of his situation did nothing to improve his mental state. He needed answers, and patience was not a prominent strength of someone who had been able to make things happen quickly and effectively his whole life.

"Well… You've certainly looked better," came a familiar voice, breaking him out of his morose reverie. It was not a voice he had expected, but it was an improvement to the circumstances nonetheless.

"Phee," he said quietly, "What happened?"

He felt a weight on the side of the bed, accompanied by a shifting shadow overhead, then the gentle, warm touch of a hand to his bare cheek that made him flinch involuntarily. A quiet sound of sympathy came from her, and the hand disappeared.

"You decided to go flying without a jet pack," Phee answered, "And the local landscape seemed to have an issue with that. Particularly the trees. And the ground."

"It was necessary," he replied, still struggling to speak more than a short sentence at a time. "My vision is impaired?"

"Your whole body is impaired," she said, attempting to keep it light, though the gravity was betrayed by the emotion in her voice. "You're lucky to be alive. But yes, for now."

Tech let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the pillow in defeat, "That is not ideal."

"You being alive is all that matters. You hear me?" she said with empathetic conviction.

"I do," he answered, resigned to the fact that a satisfactory response would require more stamina than he could afford. Phee rose to her feet.

"Good. Now you work on healing so we can get out of here."

***

The process was painstakingly slow, even with the miracles of bacta and medical droids, but finally the day arrived that they would be able to return to Pabu. Tech managed to shower and prepare on his own, feeling along the walls and fumbling about for each step. The whoosh of the door notified him of someone's arrival, and the identity was quickly confirmed by that euphonic voice.

"What are you wearing?" Phee asked as she saw him. He was wearing the medical bay defaults, which looked similar to his blacks, but had folded and tied an extra shirt around his eyes like a bandana. She wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. "I think Hunter has already claimed that particular fashion statement."

"It is likely that the appearance of my face is disconcerting, considering the damage from the fall. I did not want to be the cause of any detestation."

"Detestation! Listen to you. Come here, Brown Eyes," she invited, drawing close. "I'm taking this off, alright?"

"You may have to select an alternative term of endearment," he said as she gently pushed the makeshift bandana up and off his head. His face had indeed healed, but the rich brown eyes that had so captivated her were covered in a thick layer of milky white, and moved unseeingly in her general direction. Scar tissue tracked from his temple on one side to his ear on the other, creating a knotted texture on his previously sharp profile. He dropped his chin a bit, in a posture of shame, and her heart broke.

She dropped the folded shirt on the nearby bed, reaching for his hands with her own. His startle reflex had diminished only slightly; it would take a while to get used to a world of shifting shadows. She traced her hands up his arms, feeling him stiffen slightly at the touch, then up to his cheeks, cupping his face with as much tenderness as she could convey. She gazed into those eyes, wishing he could see the emotion on her face as she did.

"You're not gonna get off the hook that easy," she said, gently brushing his cheekbones with her thumbs. "Besides, Brown Eyes, the phenotypic eye color for all clones is brown, you know, even if you can't see them," she said with a grin that could be heard in her voice.

And for the first time since the accident, a small smile curved the corner of his lips as well.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Requested Tags: @32rotations @cocolinagoodnight @thenonsensebatch

If you enjoyed it, feel free to check out other works on Wattpad or Ao3. :) Got a full-length Tech fic, a short cute "first date" with Gregor, a short-ish rivalry of Tech/Crosshair fighting over you, and an ongoing full-length canon-aligned backstory on Howzer. :D

HANG IN THERE TIL SEASON 3! Much love!

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