overobsessivewhumper - Tumblr blog

overobsessivewhumper · 2 months ago

Text

Playing Pretend: Chapter 1

Relationships: Crosshair & Wrecker, Crosshair & OC (one-sided)

Content Warnings: Torture, whipping, Forced to hurt somebody, Blood and Injury, Zygerrian Slavery

Summary:

Being part Zygerrian, infiltrating a Zygerrian gang is all too easy for Crosshair. Things get significantly more difficult when Wrecker is captured. Crosshair is forced to torture his own brother as to not blow his cover. As things keep getting worse, Crosshair begins to wonder how Wrecker will ever be able to forgive him when he can't even imagine being able to forgive himself.

Chapter 1 written for @ailesswhumptober day 22: Forced to hurt somebody else and whipped

Written for @squad-724 Hybrid au, with amazing art by her as well :)))

Word count: 5,336

Read on Ao3

Despite his best efforts, Crosshair frowns when the whip is handed to him. It's an old-fashioned thing, made from heavy leather, thinning out towards the end and tipped with three heavy metal spikes. "What's wrong?" The Zygerrian that handed him the whip asks. She's the second in command of this little crime ring Crosshair's infiltrated, going by the name of Asesh. "Weren't you boasting about your ability to torture?" Crosshair scowls, ears flicking. His supposed skill in interrogation is the one of the reasons he was hired by the gang in the first place, beside his Zygerrian heritage. Whilst he hasn't got training in that area, he's certain he can improvise. Only issue is, he never anticipated he'd have to do so on one of his brothers.

The mission had been going fine. Infiltrating a Zygerrian gang isn't all too dificult when you're part Zygerrian yourself. They were all too ready to involve Crosshair in their group. Which was great of course, that's why he was chosen for the mission. Having Zygerrian blood will make Crosshair seem more trustworthy. It'll make it more likely that vital information will be shared with him.

All Crosshair needed was confirmation on if this gang was involved with the disappearance of two important senators. But things went slower than anticipated. He didn't want to push them to share something, worried he might cause them to distrust him. Maybe he should have been more persistent, than maybe things wouldn't have went so badly. With no way to safely contact his brothers, he had no way to inform them of the delay. They arrived for his extraction like planed and Crosshair had to hastily send them away. They'd gone unnoticed, or at least, that's what Crosshair thought until he was called for a meeting and Wrecker was dragged in, bound, gagged and beaten. He's not looked at Crosshair once since he's been manhandled onto his knees in the middle of the room by two of the larger gang members. "Whips aren't exactly my style," Crosshair says, trying to hand it back.

Asesh smiles, far too softly for someone asking Crosshair to torture his own brother. Of course, if she finds that out, they'll both be in Wrecker's position.

“You've never used a whip before? You've truly been kept from your heritage for far too long,” she says, shaking her head. “First I find out you don't speak Zygerrian, now this. Next you'll tell me you're against slavery.”

Asesh laughs, loud enough to make Crosshair's ears hurt. Crosshair joins her, faking amusement at the crude joke. It's not the first horrible thing of hers he's had to pretend to find funny, but this time hurts the most by far.

“I'll give you advice, don't worry,” Asesh says with a grin, patting Crosshair's back. “It will do you good to learn, to connect with your heritage. Whips also make for good exercise.”

Crosshair forces a smile.

“Don't we usually use a different type of whip?” Crosshair asks, inspecting the object in his hand.

Electro-whips are extremely painful, but to Crosshair's knowledge, are designed not to leave permanent damage. The leather whip he's holding looks vicious, if given a choice, he'd swap it for the electric variant. He's not getting out of doing this, might as well try and reduce the harm done to Wrecker.

Asesh scoffs. “Electro-whips are good, but are to keep merchandise from losing value. And we don't need this little intruder in good shape by the end of this.” She closes the gap between her and Wrecker, grabbing his face and laughing. “And have you seen him? Hideous! A few more scars won't make him uglier.”

“What even is he?” one of the guards asks, wrinkling their nose. Asesh shrugs.

“Part Lasat,” the second guard speaks. “Look at his feet and ears.”

The first pulls a face. “Never seen one of those.”

“You know, big, hairy, weird legs,” the second continues. Asesh shuts him up with a wave of her hand. Crosshair doesn't say anything. Best none of the Zygerrians know he has any familiarity with Wrecker or his species.

Crosshair has to fight the urge to put himself between Asesh and his brother as she prods at his face, dragging her claws across it near his blind eye. Wrecker's always nervous when someone's on his blind side, Crosshair can see the discomfort in his eyes as he tries to twist out of her grip.

“I did not know Humans could even breed with Lasat, but I can see why they don't do so often. The mix isn't very pretty, is it?” Asesh laughs as Wrecker mumbles something.

Pulling the cloth used to gag him out of his mouth, the fabric catching on Wrecker's sharp teeth, Asesh leans close.

“You can make this very easy for yourself, half-breed. Tell us who you work for and what you were doing sneaking around our property and it will all be over.” Asesh smiles, tipping Wrecker's head back far enough to make Wrecker squirm. She runs a hand over his short, purple hair, trailing her claws along his pointed ears, first the intact one, then the one torn by the blast that took Wrecker's eye.

“Kriff off,” Wrecker growls. “You don't scare me.”

Barking a laugh, Asesh looks back at Crosshair, gesturing to him with her free hand. “See him? He lacks experience, yes, but Cross will more than make up for that in the passion he shows for cruelty.” She leans in close enough for Crosshair to have to strain to hear what she hisses into Wrecker's ear next. “Once he's done with you, you won't even be able to crawl out of this room.”

Doing his best to remain neutral, Crosshair swallows. He's been laying it on thick the last few days, telling the Zygerrians all kinds of tall tales about how much he enjoys the suffering of others. He really wishes he'd just kept his mouth shut.

Not only will he have to torture his brother, he will have to pretend to enjoy it. Crosshair swallows thickly against the nausea building steadily.

After motioning for the guards to turn Wrecker so his back's towards them, Asesh splits Wrecker's plain shirt with her claws. Once torn enough, Asesh slips the ruined item of clothes of his chest. Lines of fresh blood run down Wrecker's skin where she's raked her claws over it.

Wrecker barely flinches. Crosshair knows things won't stay that way for long.

Turning to Crosshair, Asesh grins, flicking the blood off her claws. “Try it,” She says, indicating the whip.

Crosshair watches the weapon unfurl onto the floor, testing its feel. It's heavy. Aiming at an empty spot in the room, Crosshair swings it weakly. If he proves how bad he is at using it now, Asesh won't suspect anything when he goes easy on Wrecker.

Asesh hums as she watches Crosshair's pathetic display. Putting her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes at Crosshair. For a moment, Crosshair thinks she's caught on to him. If so, he'll have to get out of here as fast as he can. With Wrecker of course. There's no way he's leaving him here alone.

“You really are bad with whips,” Asesh says, laughing to herself.

Crossahir fakes mild offense. “I said so, didn't I?”

“Let me show you.” Asesh moves to Crosshair's side, putting her hand over his on the hilt of the whip. She moves his arm for him, showing him the correct way to swing it.

When Crosshair swings it again, still holding back, it cracks loudly. Wrecker flinches at the noise, catching Asesh's attention. She leans close to Crosshair.

“See that? He may act tough, but he's terrified already. He'll be crying at your hands soon enough.” Her teeth glint as she smiles widely, making Crosshair want to shove her far away from himself. She turns back to Wrecker, speaking loudly again. “Now, anything you wish to share?”

Wrecker stays silent.

“Seems he wishes to do things the hard way. Cross, don't worry yourself too much about aiming. Just hit him as hard as you can.”

Crosshair hesitates. He can't miss Wrecker, it would be obvious he'd done so purposefully. He also can't let Asesh see he's not giving it his all. Holding his breath, Crosshair draws his arm back.

He tries to avoid the organs he knows are relatively exposed on Wrecker's lower back. The thick leather of the whip leaves an immediate welt of Wrecker's back, but Crosshair's aim really is bad, and the thin tip hits Wrecker's shoulder, splitting the skin there. The sharp tips even wrap around his shoulder, digging into the muscle at the front.

Wrecker cries out, making Crosshair's heart drop.

Asesh lets out a delighted shriek. “You are a natural! It's in you're blood, as I have been telling you.”

Wrecker's ears twitch nervously as awaits the next lash. Crosshair just holds the whip, unsure how to proceed. The Zygerrians will want him to continue, but he won't do so unless told so.

He glances at Asesh, hating himself for having to execute what ever order she'll give him. She gives Crosshair an encouraging nod and smile, leaving him both no option but to smile back and swing the weapon at his brother again.

Crosshair longs for his helmet as he brings the whip down on Wrecker's back again. It's bad enough having to hurt his brother, Crosshair could do without having to pretend to like it as well.

He avoided hitting Wrecker's shoulder with the tip again, but he's fairly certain it caught the muscle on Wrecker's upper arm.

Wrecker doesn't cry out this time, a bit back noise of pain being all that leaves him. Crosshair feels sick.

Asesh circles Wrecker as Crosshair is forced to continue. The lashes begin to layer across one another, clearly hurting a lot worse when the do judging by Wrecker's reaction. He's nervously retracting and extending the claws on his feet, even when Crosshair isn't actively hitting him.

Crosshair almost gasps as a particularity badly aimed swing leaves a deep cut diagonally across Wrecker's upper back, quickly having to cover the noise by faking a laugh. There's pride in Asesh's eyes as she watches Crosshair. It makes him want rip her throat out.

“It's good to laugh when you are having fun,” she says. “Don't let anyone here make you feel like you can't.”

Asesh stands directly in front of Wrecker as Crosshair strikes him the next three times, clearly enjoying herself as her eyes focus on Wrecker's face.

“Give me that,” Asesh says, pointing at the whip in Crosshair's hand. He thinks he's done something wrong until she continues. “His expression is amusing, you have got to see it.”

Willing his body not to hesitate, Crosshair walks around Wrecker, handing Asesh the whip as she passes.

Wrecker can barely look at Crosshair, only glancing up at him shortly. Kark, are those tear tracks? Crosshair's made his brother cry in the past, they've all done so at one point when they got into arguments. Never like this though.

When no one is looking, Crosshair one handedly uses their squads apology sign at Wrecker's eye level. He isn't sure Wrecker's seen it, and even if he has, Crosshair's not sure how Wrecker could ever forgive him.

Asesh cracks the whip without letting it hit Wrecker, delighting at the way Wrecker tenses. Wrecker looks up at Crosshair, expression almost neutral if it weren't for the pain he's covering up.

Then the whip lands on his back and Wrecker's face scrunches, teeth clicking at how fast he clenches his jaw. It takes every bit of willpower Crosshair has not to react to his brothers distress. He has to force his ears and tail from flicking as he watches Wrecker suffer, willing his expression and body language into one of enjoyment.

Asesh wastes no time before continuing, bringing the weapon down on Wrecker over and over in quick succession. Wrecker's hands shake where they're bound in front of him. He's barely able to keep upright, Asesh only giving him a break if the guards have to right the way Wrecker kneels.

When she stops, breathing heavily from exertion, Crosshair can see blood splattered on the floor either side of Wrecker.

Smiling at Crosshair, Asesh motions hims to move closer to Wrecker. “Go on, interrogate him. And get your claws involved. It's a beautiful experience, sinking your claws into a lowly creatures flesh.”

With a quiet, shaky breath, Crosshair grabs Wrecker's face like Asesh did, keeping his claws away from the skin. Instead, he sinks those on his other hand into Wrecker's shoulder where Asesh can see them.

Wrecker hisses in pain, making Crosshair want to let go. He doesn't.

“Tell us who you are and what you were doing here,” Crosshair hisses.

“You'll get nothing from me,” Wrecker barks, voice strained and breathy. Crosshair has to tighten his grip as Wrecker squirms, making him cry out again.

“Speak,” Crosshair yells. Wrecker just keeps fighting against his grip in response. He manages to shake Crosshair off, falling onto his side in the process. Asesh finds this extremely amusing.

“Take over for me Cross. You are young and have a lot of energy,” Asesh orders, Extending her hand holding the whip. Drops of Wrecker's blood fall from it and onto the floor in the time it takes Crosshair to walk to her.

Wrecker's back is in a sorry state, almost making Crosshair react to the sight. Deep, bleeding marks layer the skin, tearing it to shreds in places. Crosshair's hand trembles slightly as he allows the whip to unfurl again.

If Asesh lets this go on much longer, Wrecker will die.

She asks Wrecker questions as Crosshair continues as slowly as he dares. Wrecker screams every time he's hit now. Crosshair isn't sure he'll ever be able to forget the sound.

When Asesh finally calls an end to the torture, Crosshair feels like collapsing.

“A night on the floor will make him more agreeable,” Asesh smirks. She's about to walk off when Crosshair stops her.

“What about infection?” he asks. He's pushing his luck, but with how open Wrecker's back is, it's worth the risk.

“Why would we care about that?” one of the guards huffs, only to be shut up by a hand gesture from Asesh.

“No, he is right. Our prisoner will die on our terms, not from some infection.” She pats Crosshair's back affectionately, before gesturing at the guard she interrupted. “Find something to use as disinfectant, alcohol or salt, I don't care. And bring a large piece of cloth. We don't waste medical supplies on prisoners.”

It dawns on Crosshair that Asesh is going to use this to hurt Wrecker even further.

The guard leaves and Wrecker is forced onto his stomach on the floor, bound hands stretched out far in front of him. Asesh takes the whip from Crosshair's hands and his stomach drops.

“Watch this,” she says, nudging Crosshair's side playfully. Asesh brings the whip down on Wrecker's exposed lower legs. She catches him right near the ankle, making him kick his legs up.

Asesh naturally doesn't leave it at that, ordering Crosshair to straighten Wrecker's legs each time he squirms away from her. Thankfully, Crosshair isn't forced to use the whip on his brother this way as well as Asesh stops when the guard returns.

Wrecker's still left with bunch of new welts and cuts, a few ugly ones across the bottom of his feet, damaging the pads situated there. Crosshair cringes at the sight, playing the motion off as him shaking his arms out. He knows that Wrecker has a lot of feeling in his feet and a lot more range of motion than a human would. The damage will affect him badly.

“What did you find?” Asesh ask the guard.

“Salt,” he says. In addition to a package of salt, he's holding a blanket, made from rough material by the looks of it.

Upon Asesh's order, he hands both the items to Crosshair.

“Have fun,” she says genuinely, pointing at Wrecker.

Faking a laugh, Crosshair kneels down next to Wrecker. He's panting for air, cheek pressed to the floor. The skin on his back is in shreds, even peeling off in places.

Nausea threatens to overcome Crosshair as he watches his brother's chest rise and fall, shifting his back, glistening with blood.

Crosshair tips some salt into his hand. The situation would be bad enough, but the guard's managed to find particularly coarse salt. Its rough edges will only add to the way it will irritate Wrecker's wounds. He's not sure this is better than the risk of infection. Once again, Crosshair wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.

Just as he's about to pour the first of the salt onto Wrecker's back, Asesh interrupts him.

“Is he purring?” She exclaims, laughter bursting out of her.

Now Crosshair's been made aware of it, he hears it too. It makes his heart hurt. The urge to lay down beside his brother and purr as well, to maybe make him feel just a little better, is near overwhelming.

“Like a scared child! Pathetic,” Asesh continues. She kicks Wrecker in the ribs, making him gasp. Crosshair laughs automatically, not even fully realizing that he's doing so anymore.

When Asesh signals him to continue, Crosshair empties the content of his hand onto Wrecker's back. Wrecker writhes as the salt clings to his open wounds, whimpering and gasping as the sting sets in. Continuing, Crossahir pours salt directly from the container, moving as fast as he can.

“No need to rush,” Asesh intervenes. “Enjoy yourself! Really get the salt in there. We wouldn't want our prisoner to get an infection.” She smiles at Crosshair, encouragingly. Crosshair looks down at Wrecker's back before nodding. That way, he doesn't need to manage his expression too much.

Being mindful of his claws, Crosshair starts using his hands to rub the salt deeper into Wrecker's wounds. Wreckers howls in pain, struggling to get away from Crosshair. He pushes his torso off the ground, but Asesh is there to stop him, putting a boot on the back of Wrecker's neck.

She nods at Crosshair, looking pleased.

Crosshair does his best to block out both Wrecker's screams and anything coming from Asesh as he continues. His hands soak with blood as he works. Crosshair doesn't want to imagine what the rough crystals of salt must feel like rubbing against open injuries,

Once he's done, Asesh hands him the blanket. “Wrap it around his chest. It will stop the bleeding.”

The material of the blanket is awful to touch, the kind Hunter couldn't stand. Having it used as makeshift bandages should classify as a type of torture in and of itself.

As carefully as he dares, Crosshair wraps the fabric around Wrecker's torso, having to force him onto his back to tie it at the front. The wounds on Wrecker's arms and legs remain open, salt acting as the only barrier between open skin and the surrounding world.

Asesh, with Crosshair's help, maneuvers Wrecker to his knees. He sways slightly as he sits slumped.

“You will talk,” Asesh hisses, grabbing Wrecker's face again. “It is only a matter of time.”

Wrecker growls, lunging forwards to snap at her. Asesh laughs, avoiding his bite easily.

“You are amusing,” she says. “I like hurting creatures with a little fight in them. Makes breaking them all the more fun. Maybe I'll keep you.”

With a hand wave, Asesh gets the guards to pull Wrecker onto his feet, dragging him out of the room. He can barely keep his legs under himself, leaving bloody marks where ever his feet make contact with the floor.

Asesh follows the guards, so Crosshair won't stick out doing so. At least he'll know where Wrecker is being kept.

It's a small room, smaller than the one used for interrogation. Maybe it was once used for storage, but now, it's been fashioned into a bare cell. Asesh wasn't kidding about making Wrecker sleep on the floor.

Swiftly, Wrecker is shoved to the ground, hitting it hard. Crosshair just about catches how Wrecker curls up on his side and the sound of him purring quietly to himself before the door is slammed shut.

The only thing Crosshair wants to do now is be alone, somewhere dark where no one can see him.

But Asesh asks him to follow her, so he does.

She steps out of a door towards the back of the base the gangs set up. It leads into a narrow ally, barely illuminated by a humming neon tube just over the door. Asesh leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette. She offers one to Crosshair, like she does every time. He declines.

“Suit yourself,” Asesh shrugs. She smokes in silence for a while, at least having the decency not to exhale smoke in Crosshair's direction. There's small specks of blood on her hands, making Croshair want to look away from her.

Looking at his boots, he spots the state of his own hands. Dry and drying blood is caked on his skin, concentrated around his claws. The contrast to his pale skin is stark. Crosshair's skin itches. He wants to scratch at it until any trace of Wrecker's blood is gone.

“You've never been taught how to break a slave, have you?” Asesh asks, cigarette barely held between her fingers as she gestures.

Crosshair shakes his head.

Asesh clicks her tongue before taking another drag of her cigarette. “Never even owned one, have you?”

Crosshair shakes his head again, looking anywhere but where Asesh is standing.

“I guess it is not uncommon. Not everyone can afford them, especially with large portions of our trade being ruined by this Galactic Republic,” Asesh scoffs. “It is sad that you have been kept from your culture. It is hardly your fault you have inferior blood running through your veins. That is no excuse to keep you from who you really are.”

Crosshair nods, turning his grimace into a smile. “You've done a lot to make that right.”

He looks at Asesh, regretting the action when he spots the soft, fond smile on her face. Crosshair needs the gang to like him if he's going to get any information from them, but he doesn't like this one bit.

“We'll get information from the prisoner sooner or later, but I plan to keep him. I will use him to teach you the slave trade,” Asesh says, putting a hand on Crosshair's shoulder. “If your work today is any indication, you will make a fine slaver.”

Crosshair feels sick. He hasn't felt this unwell since he was a cadet. But all he does is continue smiling. “I'd like that a lot.”

Asesh laughs. “I knew you'd agree! After how much fun you had with the prisoner, there was no doubt in my mind!”

He'd fooled the Zygerrians, Crosshair just hopes he hasn't fooled Wrecker.

“Now, go, eat, get some rest. No need for you to keep an old woman like me company,” Asesh laughs. “Think of some other things you'd like to do to that prisoner as well,” she says with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Crosshair's about to turn away from her when she grabs his arm. “And Cross, don't let anyone say your human blood defines you. You're a truer Zygerrian than many pure-blooded ones will ever be.”

“Thank you,” Crosshair says, playing off his disgust as modesty.

“I mean it. You're made for this.” With a smile, she lets go of Crosshair's arm and goes back to smoking.

Crosshair doesn't stop or let himself get distracted the entire way to the quarters he has set up in the gangs base. He barely breathes the whole duration of the way.

Once he's in the small room, he drops himself on his bed, going limp.

The day couldn't have gone worse. Not only did he fail to get the mission done in the time frame he should have, but his slow progress has landed Wrecker in a horrible situation.

He must hate Crosshair, there's no way he doesn't. Crosshair has to believe that Wrecker knows Crosshair would never enjoy hurting him like that, but even so, Wrecker must hate him for getting him stuck in this situation in the first place.

Shifting onto his side, Crosshair stares at his bloody hands. There's nothing he can do to fix the situation now. All he can do is continue the mission. If he doesn't, Crosshair's put his brothers lives in danger for nothing.

He can't risk bringing Wrecker any useful item or giving him medical help. If anyone notices, Crosshair could blow his cover. But Crosshair has to check on him, just to see what kind of state Wrecker's in.

When most of the gang is sleeping, then he'll go.

It's agony, doing nothing as he waits. He only leaves his room once to wash his hands. The blood doesn't seem to come off. It's like it's soaked under Crosshair's skin.

He doesn't eat. Crosshair feels like he should be hungry, but the thought of food just makes his nausea worse.

Crosshair hates being like this, useless. He's done nothing, achieved nothing this mission. Except for torturing his own brother of course.

The Zygerrians trust Crosshair, but not enough to share valuable information with him. And all Crosshair can do is keep playing this game, keep hurting Wrecker until he completes the objective.

What's worse is, Crosshair actually liked Asesh.

Crosshair's young, a new member of the gang and not even a full Zygerrian. Other members made sure to remind him of this. Not Asesh. She was nice from the start, looked out for him, was easily impressed by his skills and made sure to point out when he did something worthy of praise.

Asesh treated Crosshair like an actual living, breathing sentient being. Natborns don't do that often.

It didn't matter to Crosshair that she was a horrible person, none of that affected him. It's easy to play along with someone's bad behavior and values if none of them are directed at you.

But now Wrecker's their prisoner, now Crosshair's forced to act on those opinions he pretended to have.

Even after washing his hands, Crosshair can still smell the blood. It's like the scent clings to him, his clothes, his hair, his skin. He can't escape it.

Once the lights in the hall are turned off for the night, Crosshair wastes little time in retracing his steps to the cell Wrecker's been left in.

Only standing at the door does it dawn on Crosshair that he doesn't have a key or code to get in.

Staring at the panel next to the door, Crosshair thinks. The guard didn't use a code or key card, did he?

Hesitantly, Crosshair pushes a button on the panel, than another. He repeats the process until inexplicably, the light at the bottom of the panel flashes green and the door slides open.

That isn't very secure, Crosshair thinks to himself.

The inside of the room had it's door panel removed. Crosshair groans. That makes the chances of one of the Zygerrians seeing him much higher. He'd have preferred the privacy of a closed door.

The room is dark, but it's easy to make out Wrecker's curled up form on the floor near the wall. He's shaking, purring quietly.

Glancing into the corridor behind him, Crosshair waits. When he can't hear anyone approaching, he moves to Wrecker's side, moving slow as to not spook his brother. Once close enough, he crouches next to Wrecker, hovering his hand just above Wrecker's shoulder.

“Wrecker?” Crosshair asks, carefully letting his fingers brush across Wrecker's skin.

Wrecker flinches, gasping in pain as he crawls away from Crosshair's touch. Crosshair watches in horrified silence as Wrecker struggles to avoid being near him. It's entirely justified, still hurts to be exposed to that truth.

Stepping over Wrecker, Crosshair goes down to his level again, this time in his line of sight.

“Please, stay calm,” Crosshair pleads. “I'm not here to hurt you.” The last thing Crosshair needs is the Zygerrians being alerted of his presence in the cell.

Wrecker shifts, eyes widening as he looks up. He's not struggling anymore at least.

“Cross?” Wrecker's voice is hoarse. Crosshair mentally kicks himself for not bringing any water for his brother. Groaning weakly, Wrecker tries to sit up. Crosshair makes him stay down, hating the way Wrecker seems to shy away from his touch.

“I'll complete the mission soon, I promise,” Crosshair says. It would be easy to leave with Wrecker now, but there's no telling what will happen to their squad if they fail a mission this vital. The lives of important people are at stake. The Republic will value those over the life of clones, especially experimental ones. “Things will continue tomorrow, but I'll get you out of her. I just don't know when yet.”

Wrecker nods, laying his head on the ground. His eyes are barely open, half lidded as he goes back to purring. Quietly, Crosshair joins him as he looks him over. The blood on Wrecker's arms and legs is drying, wounds still looking wet. The blanket has red stains where it covers Wrecker's back.

“Does it hurt?” Crosshair asks, immediately regretting the stupid question. Crosshair can't get anything right today.

Humoring Crosshair for some reason, Wrecker nods. “S'okay if I don't move or breath too hard,” Wrecker mumbles, eyes falling closed.

Crosshair almost puts a hand on Wrecker again, but stops himself. Wrecker clearly doesn't want Crosshair touching him. Crosshair has to respect that.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Crosshair says, knowing his apology is entirely worthless. Wrecker's silence seems to indicate that he agrees.

That's when footsteps echo down the corridor. Crosshair leaps to his feet, looking for a rout of escape. Maybe if he's fast he can slip out of the cell unnoticed.

No, the person approaching is too close already. There's only one way Crosshair's getting out of this without blowing his cover.

With a quiet apology to Wrecker, Crosshair kicks him in the ribs, just hard enough to make Wrecker cry out.

“Speak!” Crosshair yells, surprising himself with how loud he is.

A familiar laugh filters into the room.

Crosshair looks up to find Asesh leaning on the door frame.

“I thought I would find you here,” she smirks.

Crosshair freezes. Does she know? Has she known this whole time?

“You're so eager to cause suffering, aren't you, Cross?” she continues.

“He should have spoken by now,” Crosshair says, hoping Asesh isn't just toying with him.

“These things take time, don't worry.” Asesh walks closer, threateningly. “But you are right. It does help to keep prisoners from getting any rest.”

She laughs. Swiftly, she hooks the heel of her boot over Wrecker's chest, flipping him onto his back. Wrecker gasps for breath as he arches off the floor, short, pained noises leaving him.

Asesh puts her weight on Wrecker's ribs, leaning forward towards Crosshair. Wrecker whimpers.

“You however need your rest. I admire your passion, but sleep is important. We will continue tomorrow,” Asesh says, leaning far enough to pat Crosshair's arm.

Soon as she takes her weight off of Wrecker, he turns onto his side. Asesh begins to escort Crosshair out of the cell, not before kicking Wrecker in the back for good measure.

Standing outside the cell, Crosshair feels worse than he did before. He'd managed to make life more miserable for Wrecker, just because he wanted to make himself feel less guilty by fishing for forgiveness.

“Sleep. I need you in top form tomorrow,” Asesh speaks as she closes the door to the cell. Crosshair catches one last glance of Wrecker's form against the far wall.

Crosshair nods, making his way back to his sleeping quarters. There's no way he's getting any decent rest. Not when he knows Wrecker is suffering a few corridors over.

#whump #my writing #I feel like people over here might appreciate this #especially the art :)))

41 notes · View notes

overobsessivewhumper · 3 months ago

Text

What Lies Within

Relationships: Echo & Hunter & Omega & Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Blood and Injury, Parasites, Discussion of Death, Discussion of Suicide, Cannibalism (at least kinda... Adding it just to be safe)

Summary:

After Omega falls into some water during a mission, she starts acting strange. The Batch soon learn that Omega's caught a parasite that occasionally alters her behaviour and, if not removed, will cause her death.

Written for day 18 Mind control and Possession for @ailesswhumptober

Word count: 5,321

Read on Ao3

Wrecker just manages to bite back a yelp as he turns to find Omega standing right behind him.

It's the middle of the night and he'd just come out of the refresher. Wrecker hadn't expected to see Omega up.

She's hanging her head slightly, just at the edge of the white light coming from the small refresher. She's standing still but her chest is heaving with heavy breaths. Either Wrecker woke her by moving about or she had a bad dream.

“Can't sleep, 'mega?” Wrecker asks, speaking softly. Omega doesn't react, just looking at the floor. Usually when she wakes up at night, she's carrying Lula about. Something, must have spooked her. Wrecker assumes he's the culprit. “Did I wake you?” Wrecker tilts his head towards her, waiting for any reaction. It's worrying, how quiet she is.

Then Omega springs into action, rushing at Wrecker. His first thought is that she's going for a hug, but he is quickly proven wrong when Omega wraps her hands around Wrecker's left wrist, dragging his arm to her level. He lets her, not expecting her to do what she does next, bite him.

Wrecker laughs quietly. Omega's clearly joking about, or entering a biting phase like both Crosshair and Hunter went through. It's harmless, so he might as well let it happen.

But Omega doesn't let up, just biting down harder.

“Omega?” Wrecker asks, still laughing slightly, patting her arm to get her attention. Crosshair had to be told to not bite so hard at the start as well, Omega's just not aware of the limits just yet.

She doesn't even seem to hear Wrecker, still sinking her teeth into his forearm. It's really starting to hurt.

“Hey, 'mega,” Wrecker says, trying to keep his growing discomfort out of his voice. “mind letting up a little?” He laughs, trying to put her at ease. Wrecker doesn't want her to feel bad about something silly like this.

Still, Omega doesn't listen.

“Omega?” Wrecker tries again, shaking her shoulder lightly. He can't even see her face with the messy mass of blond hair covering it.

Then Wrecker's skin gives under Omega's teeth, spilling blood down Wrecker's arm.

“Kark,” Wrecker hisses, “Omega, stop.” Can't she feel the blood running down her face? Can't she taste it in her mouth? Why isn't she stopping?

If any of his brothers did something he didn't like, went too far, Wrecker would just push them off. He can't just push Omega off, Wrecker isn't going to hurt her. Carefully, he tries to pry her hands off his arm first.

“Stop Omega,” Wrecker repeats, “it's not funny any more.” The words almost hurt to say. He doesn't want to make Omega feel bad, but she has to know she can't bite people like this.

In response to Wrecker's words and him trying to get her to let go, she digs her short fingernails into Wrecker's arm, knuckles going white. She readjusts the way she's biting Wrecker, moving a little and biting down just as hard. Wrecker swears under his breath. There's no way she can't tell she's breaking skin.

What's gotten into her?

“Omega, please, let go!” Wrecker says, trying to pull her away from himself without grabbing her too hard.

With a grunt, Omega suddenly pulls away from Wrecker, taking a large chunk of his skin with her. Wrecker hisses, clutching his hand over the open wound. Blood spills between his fingers, glistening in the light from the refresher.

“'mega?” Wrecker asks, looking up. She's backed away, just out of the light pooling around him. Wrecker's eyes aren't adjusted to the dark enough to see her clearly, only making out her hunched form. Her hands are near her face, seemingly covering it. Is she crying? “What's wrong? Did I do something?”

The only logical conclusion for Omega biting Wrecker like that is her wanting to break skin. She's never been really mad at Wrecker before, so he can't rule out that this is her way to deal with something like that. Only problem is, he has no idea what he could have done.

It happened once when they were cadets that Crosshair had a dream where Wrecker annoyed him and he proceeded to refuse to talk to Wrecker all day, so that could be the case here. It's a bit of a stretch though. It's more likely Wrecker did something to annoy Omega without noticing.

He crouches down, hissing as he moves his injured arm. “Can you tell me what's wrong Omega?” he asks.

Omega doesn't say a word, so Wrecker moves a little closer. Every nerve in his body is telling him not to, but this is Omega and she's clearly distressed. Her biting him is hardly the worst that could have happened. Hunter shot Wrecker once, even if it was an accident. Seemingly hesitant, Omega steps into the light. Wrecker can see her for the first time now. Her pupils are wide and unfocused, looking right through Wrecker. Blood is smeared across the lower half of her face, dirtying her blond hair. Something feels very wrong. "Omega?" Wrecker asks. There's no recognition in her eyes. Wrecker wants to back off, but he's too late. Omega lunges at him again. He tries to pick her up, same as he always does, though this time with the intention of keeping her from biting anyone else. She's squirming, slamming her fists against Wreckers arms. She's not strong enough to really harm Wrecker this way, likely hurting herself long before she'd cause any real damage. "There's something wrong with Omega," Wrecker shouts, looking around for his brothers. If Hunter were awake like he said he'd be, he would have been here long ago. Wrecker struggles to find any satisfaction in the fact that Hunter was getting some much needed sleep in right now. There's movement from the bunks, Echo and Tech's forms rising slowly. The moment Wrecker takes to look over to them leaves him distracted enough to allow Omega to wiggle free, just enough to bite the hand that had been holding her. Wrecker swears, certain he can feel the way his bones grind against each other under the pressure. He can't just pull his hand from Omega's mouth, worried he'll hurt her in the process. She could loose teeth doing things like this. With Omega flailing the way she is, the risk of her hurting herself is increasing rapidly. Wrecker decides to do possibly not the smartest thing, but the what minimizes the risk of harm coming to Omega. Wrecker hugs her to his chest. Omega screams, sounding more like an animal than herself, clawing and biting at Wrecker's arms as he holds her. Wrecker doesn't want to hold her too tightly, so this gives her room to kick at him, having endured much worse. He drops himself to the ground, not wanting to drop Omega if she'd manage to wiggle free. The Marauders light is suddenly switched on, making Wrecker squint. Echo and Tech are standing there, confusion, perhaps horror, on their faces. Hunter's shortly behind, arriving from the other side. Wrecker's sure he looks as lost as he feels as he looks between his older brothers. "What the kriff is going on here?" Echo exclaims, gesticulating adamantly. "She just started biting," Wrecker says, voice cracking. "What do you mean, she just started biting? Why?" Hunter hisses, still looking and sounding half asleep.

“I don't know,” Wrecker whines, hating the tone of his voice. The last mission was long and exhausting, he's barely slept, they haven't eaten a real meal in days and now this. He's tired and unable to come up with a single coherent idea for what might have gotten into Omega.

Wrecker's brothers seem lost as well, none of them moving to do anything. Omega makes a noise concerningly close to a snarl, elbowing Wrecker in the ribs surprisingly hard.

“Help?” Wrecker asks, a little desperately. What ever is wrong with Omega's gone on for far too long and Wrecker's a little sick of feeling this helpless. That seems to knock his vode out of their stupor.

“Sedating her would be the best course of action,” Tech says, already rushing off to find their medkit.

“Is that really necessary?” Hunter asks. Wrecker can't say he loves the idea either, though he struggles to think of an alternative.

“She's tearing chunks out of Wrecker's arms with her teeth,” Echo counters, “keeping her conscious won't benefit anyone.”

Hunter seems to really look at Wrecker and Omega, only just comprehending the scene in front of him. The last while's been hard on all of them, but Wrecker's aware of just how little Hunter's been eating or resting.

Hunter swears under his breath.

Tech trying to sedate Omega predictably does not go well. Soon as he's close, Omega switches to trying to bit him, snapping her teeth at him. In the end, Wrecker has to put his hand in front of Omega's mouth to get her to stop squirming long enough for Tech to get a needle in her neck.

She struggles for a little while, getting progressively weaker, until Wrecker's sitting on the floor with Omega limp in his lap. He knows it's not her blood, Wrecker witnessed up close and personal how Omega got covered in it. It's still horrifying to see her like this, so still, her face and sleep clothes soaked in red.

She looks tiny. Omega does so most of the time, but especially in her improvised pyjamas. They hadn't had the time or money to find her something that fits yet, she's just wearing a pair of Tech's shorts that go way past her knees , that only fit because of the drawstring and one of Hunter's shirts, that Wrecker shortened and took in, but not enough to not look huge on her.

Wrecker stands up, cradling Omega in his arms. He barely feels the pain radiating through his limbs as he carries her to the lowest sleeping rack. “What's wrong with her?” he ask, placing her down on top of the blanket carefully. It feels like one badly calculated move would be enough to do irreparable damage to Omega right now.

“I will find out and come up with a solution,” Tech says, determination set in his expression.

Wrecker brushes a bloody strand of hair out of Omega's face. He can't help but wonder if it's their fault she's like this. Parenting isn't exactly something they were trained for, but Wrecker would hope that their best is at least good enough to keep Omega alive, as safe as possible and happy. It doesn't feel like they've done that.

He always thought to himself, that at least they're not as bad as the trainers and staff on Kamino. They'd never hurt Omega, Wrecker can't even imagine being mad at her. But what if they did something really, really wrong? Something any natborn would know to avoid, something they were blind to because of the way they were raised, because they were bred for war. Nausea claws its way through Wrecker's chest at the thought.

When Wrecker stands up straight again, he stumbles backwards, black spots dancing in his vision, room seeming to spin around him. He just about manages to lean on a wall.

“Wrecker, sit down,” Hunter orders. “You're losing blood.”

Without thinking, Wrecker lets himself slide along the wall to the floor. He leans his head backwards against the surface behind him, keeping an eye on Omega. Echo is gently wiping blood from her face.

Wrecker's arms tremble as Hunter takes the first into his hands. The damage done to his skin isn't even visible under all the blood, but Wrecker can feel it. Every inch of skin on his arms seems to sting and ache .

Hunter's hands shake more than the usually do as he starts cleaning Wrecker's arm, but Wrecker doesn't point it out.

“Make sure to clean those wounds thoroughly, Hunter.” Tech interrupts his work on Omega to look over to them. “The human mouth contains multiple billions of bacteria in upwards of 600 species, Wrecker's at great risk of infection.”

“I know Tech,” Hunter grumbles.

“You should wash them with soap, Hunter,” Tech says, adjusting his goggles as he speaks.

“I can handle this just fine!” Hunter hisses. “Go back to helping Omega.”

Despite his frustration, Hunter listens to Tech, getting up, helping Wrecker up after him. As much as he'd rather stay where he can see Omega, Wrecker still follows Hunter without protest. He guides Wrecker to the refresher. Wrecker feels dizzy, unstable. He's very grateful that Hunter lets him sit on the closed toilet lid as he washes Wrecker's arms in their tiny sink.

They only own one type of soap suited for usage on skin, both shampoo and body wash in one and only mildly scented. Hunter can't stand any of the strong smelling stuff. Despite lacking an intense smell, it still stings horribly in Wrecker's open wounds.

As water is splashed over his skin, more and more bite marks are brought to light. Omega tore a few large chunks of Wrecker's skin off. He already knows those will leave ugly scars. There are a few almost perfect imprints of her teeth on his arms. Wrecker's convinced he could count her teeth from the injuries alone. Omega also left some surprisingly deep scratches in Wrecker's skin. With how blunt her nails are, those really speak for her determination.

“Where's the disinfectant?” Hunter yells into the other room, making Wrecker jump at the sudden loud noise.

“We ran out two missions ago,” Echo shoots back.

Hunter groans, running a hand across his face. He smears some of Wrecker's blood across it. Wrecker doesn't feel like pointing that out will improve Hunter's mood.

“What bout that cheap liquor Cid gave us? It tastes like osik anyway,” Wrecker offers instead.

Hunter's brows furrow in thought.

“Can we use alcohol?” Hunter shouts, leaning towards the open door.

Wrecker can hear Tech sighing from the other room. “It's hardly advisable.”

“Got a better idea?” Hunter responds.

For a while, silence answers them, then Tech sighs again. “No.”

Telling Wrecker to stay put, Hunter walks off. Wrecker watches blood lazily spill from the bite marks on his arms. He flexes his hands, tugging the wounds on his palms. Those probably hurt the most, thought the areas where big sections of skin have been bitten off are fighting valiantly to match that pain. Wrecker lets his hands rest in a relaxed, open position, clenching them hurting too much.

Hunter returns, brown bottle Cid had gifted them in hand. She'd called it a bonus for the good work they did on a mission. Wrecker thinks she was just trying to get rid of the stuff. The smell of the off coloured fluid is enough to prove the low quality of it, but Wrecker took a sip of it out of curiosity after Tech and Hunter confirmed that ingesting it probably wouldn't cause any harm. It was awful. They've been to some really low end bars over the years, but nothing compared to this. It tasted almost chemical. They only kept it because they might use it to clean something. Wrecker hadn't planed for it to be used like this.

Wrecker bites the inside of his cheek as Hunter tips a large quantity of the alcohol over his outstretched arms. It tastes a whole lot better than how it feels in an open wound. The burning feels like acid, somehow finding its way into any tear or crack in Wrecker's skin. From the angle Wrecker's sitting, he catches a glimpse of his own pained expression in the small mirror above the sink. He looks pathetic, Wrecker can't stand seeing the reflection any longer than he has to.

Hunter empties a good third of the bottle over Wrecker's arms, using the corner of a towel soaked in the liquor to make sure the wounds are thoroughly scrubbed. Wrecker's skin feels raw and irritated by the time Hunter pats it dry.

Hunter spreads a thin layer of bacta on the worst of the bites, entirely leaving out any of scratches. Wrecker can almost feel how hard Hunter is thinking. He keeps hesitating. Normally, Hunter wouldn't use bacta as sparingly and it's clear that's bothering him. But they're down to the last of their supplies, with no credits to spare for a restock. And with Omega sick, wasting medical supplies isn't something any of them want to do.

They're not exactly swimming in bandage material either, so Hunter covers the deepest wounds with gauze pads and wraps Wrecker's arms with the reusable bandages they own. Those would usually be used to stabilize painful or sprained joints and are thrown in the wash with the rest of their clothes between uses. They're rougher than single use bandages, feeling unpleasant against the uncovered wounds, especially when Wrecker moves.

Wrecker's had worse, this is nothing. He won't even complain. Doesn't feel right to do so when something is horribly wrong with Omega.

Hunter puts a hand on Wrecker's arm, letting it linger before helping him back to his feet. The blood loss is still getting to him, but the feeling will pass soon enough.

Back in the main body of the Marauder, both Tech and Echo are glued hip to hip, studying the screen of the med scanner together. Tech's muttering quietly to himself.

“What's wrong with her?” Wrecker asks, approaching the sleeping racks rather than sitting down like Hunter wanted him to. Dread settles in Wrecker's stomach as his brothers turn to him, grim expressions on their faces.

“She's got a parasite,” Echo says, lines on his forehead very visible with the way his brows are furrowed.

“What?” Hunter asks. “How?”

Wrecker shares the confusion his ori'vod feels. They've all been eating the same thing, nothing but rations. Omega did eat more than they did, but it is still implausible that she picked a parasite up that way. As far as Wrecker was aware, she didn't come in contact with anything that could have given her one. And even if, their squad has caught parasites before and they've never caused something like this.

“A possible method of infection is the water Omega fell in last mission,” Tech says.

“She was barely in it for two seconds,” Wrecker says. Omega slipped and fell into a small pond, but she was hardly under for long.

“That's all this parasite needs,” Tech says.

“What-” Hunter begins, pausing to breathe deeply. “What's going to happen to her?”

Tech's expression darkens as he glances at Echo. “The parasite, commonly referred to as the Alloyan worm, infects its host through water, as previously stated, usually through ingesting the liquid containing it. Once inside the hosts body, it makes its self at home in their stomach, feeding off of anything the host consumes. If the parasite feels it is not getting enough nutrients, most of all protein, it will induce phases of extreme aggression in the host, driving them to find an alternative food source. This includes living things.”

Wrecker stares down at his arms. He didn't consider that Omega might be trying to eat the flesh she managed to bite off of him.

“When the parasite has reached its full size, it will lay eggs. Once those hatch, the young will begin consuming parts of the host, avoiding the most vital organs, keeping the host alive for the entire process. Finally, the original parasite will drive to host to drown themselves with any means possible, allowing the young to find other victims to infect.” Tech clears his throat, looking at his hands. “This is way some locals refer to it as the 'suicide worm'.”

Wrecker feels sick. This can't be right, it can't! Omega can't die! Wrecker's chest is suddenly very tight, like his ribs barely expand any more, trapping his lungs. He stumbles forwards so he can see Omega, almost peaceful with how she's been wrapped in a blanket, face relaxed.

Just a few hours ago, Wrecker was messing about with her like always, listening to her make up increasingly impossible missions her trooper doll might have went on. Wrecker added details, escalating Omega's over the top ideas even further and making her laughs.

Now that the thinks back to that, Omega had seemed more tired than normal. Was that a symptom of the parasite Wrecker had missed? Kark, he should have done something. A better man would have noticed and took action. Wrecker simply attributed Omega's calmer behaviour to the exhaustion of the mission and the low amount of food she'd consumed that day.

“There has to be something we can do to save her,” Wrecker whispers, extending an arm, stopping just shy of brushing his fingers across her forehead.

Wrecker looks to Echo and Tech, silently begging them to please have a plan, a way to fix this. He glances to Hunter as well, the oldest of their original squad, their leader. He's frozen in place, hands trembling at his sides as he stares past Wrecker at Omega. Tech hunches somewhat, eyes focused on the datapad he's holding too close to his face. "The parasite is native to Volnaryl, found on no other planet. There is talk of a cure, however the information is far from detailed. Every report of the parasite lists it as extremely resilient to any other method of removal." Tech pauses, momentarily looking over at Omega. "The only chance we have at finding a safe way to cure her is going back to Volnaryl." "What are we waiting for?" Hunter asks. "Turn the ship around." Tech nods, hurrying to follow Hunter's order. "What if she wakes up and is still," Wrecker pauses, inhaling slowly as he tries to think of the correct word, "aggressive?" "We've got to hope that she won't be," Echo sighs. "If she is, the blanket we've wrapped her in may act as a restraint. As a last resort, we could sedate her again." "Have we even got sedative left?" Hunter asks. "Barely," Echo answers. They hadn't used any in ages, just in case they'd need it for something more important. The time for that had apparently arrived. The whole ship shakes as the Marauder drops out of hyperspace, turning sharply. When Tech re-enters hyperspace, Wrecker is almost knocked to the ground by the jolt of it. "Getting some rest in is important," Hunter says. "We have a long couple days coming at us. But someone needs to keep an eye on Omega constantly." If Hunter hadn't suggested the idea, Wrecker would have offered to watch her either way. He's sure each one of his brothers would have done the same. Wrecker sits against the wall next to the sleeping rack, near Omega's head. He carefully puts a hand on her shoulder. Even through the blanket, she feels warm. "How long?" Wrecker asks, watching his brothers settle down near Omega's unconscious form as well. When none of them respond, Wrecker elaborates. "How long until that thing starts killing her?" "Technically, it is already killing her," Tech says. Those words seem to burrow their way into Wrecker's chest, constricting his organs steadily and violently. "You are however likely referring to when the parasite will reproduce, which isn't a question I posses a concise answer to. The duration seems to vary from patient to patient.”

Wrecker exhales hard, leaning his head against the wall, tapping his foot on the floor. It's a good few hours back to Volnaryl. They won't be able to do anything for Omega if she starts dying while they're in transit.

“If it's a comfort, the infection usually takes longer than hours, days at least,” Tech says. It isn't, but Wrecker doesn't bring it up.

How can anything be a comfort when he knows that thing is in Omega's stomach? Wrecker should have noticed sooner, should have stopped her falling in the water in the first place. He was walking behind her, if he'd watched her better, been more alert, he could have prevented this from happening.

Wrecker wants to slam his fist against the floor, hard enough to really feel it, hard enough to leave a mark in the metal as well as on his hand. Maybe that would help cover the way his insides feel like they're dissolving. But Wrecker won't be unnecessarily loud when everyone's already stressed. Instead, he wraps his arms tightly around his own chest, putting more pressure on the injuries than is comfortable.

Why did it have to get Omega? Even if they're little family doesn't live a safe lifestyle, they've been doing everything they can to keep Omega out of harms way, putting her first in every way they could. They're all new to this, having a child on the squad and they've all made mistakes, but they've been improving. Why did Omega of all people have to be infected by a deadly parasite?

Wrecker would much rather it would have got him, though he shudders to think what would happen if he was put in an aggressive state by the parasite. When the chip took control of Wrecker on Bracca, he nearly killed his vode. If something like that happened on the Marauder, in such a small space, the end result could have been catastrophic.

Hunter suggests that he take the first watch, which the rest of them agree to. Wrecker doesn't sleep, not really. At first, he's tormented by thoughts of Omega's state, then the few times he manages to doze off, dreams of her dying horrifically. His mind conjures up copious amounts of images of Omega's potential death, her drowning herself, a large bloody hole left instead of her stomach as the parasites eat away at her, even Wrecker killing her in a failed attempt to get her to calm down.

Wrecker startles when Hunter shakes him from his thoughts, getting Wrecker's attention for his turn to be on watch. He half expected Hunter not to exchange shift with any of them and attempt to stay awake all night. Wouldn't be the first time he pulled something like that.

The watch isn't eventful, all Wrecker does is stare at Omega in the dark, only accompanied by his brother's breathing and the rumble of the ships engine. Omega's breath is shallow, Wrecker keeps having to check if she's not stopped doing so entirely, fear spiking ever time he holds his hand close enough to her face to feel for the exhale of air and has to wait a moment to be sure of what he feels.

Wrecker has to lean forward to activate the screen on Tech's datapad to check the time. It seems to move impossibly slowly.

Once his watch is over, he leans forward to shake Tech awake, sending a flare of pain up his spine as he does too too quickly. He doubts Tech was truly asleep. He usualy snores when he is.

From then on, Wrecker left even more restless. His legs and back cramp from the way he sits, but Wrecker can't bare to move further away from Omega. The dreams and his thoughts only get worse.

When morning hits, everyone's thrown into sluggish but agitated motion. Omega's still out cold and they'll still be in hyperspace for a few hours. Wrecker wants to say something, talk with his brothers, the silence is killing him.

But everything he can think to say feels wrong. He doesn't want to talk about Omega's possible death, that'll only make it feel more real. Wrecker doesn't want to talk normally either.

So he keeps his mouth shut.

His body aches after the fitful nights rest. Having spent an extended period of time with his chin resting on his chest, Wrecker's back feels strained. The bandages have been soaked through in certain spots and the rough material rubbing against his open skin is driving Wrecker a little bit mad.

All that discomfort is promptly forgotten when Omega begins to stir.

At first, she just squirms a little, groaning as she moves. She doesn't even open her eyes. All her brothers watch carefully as she wakes, no one daring to breath.

Then Omega really starts to struggle against the blanket she's wrapped in, but nothing like the aggression she showed in the middle of the night. Panic crosses her expression as her breathing becomes too quick. Mumbled please for help leave her mouth.

“Hey, hey, Omega, it's alright,” Wrecker tries, similar attempts to calm her coming from his brothers. Nothing seems to get through to Omega as she just continues to struggle.

Wrecker can't stand it.

He makes the decision that this is too dissimilar to how she'd acted before and that he'd rather take the risk of her biting him again than putting her through unnecessary stress.

Clearly his brothers feel the same, as when Wrecker moves to help Omega out of the blanket, his vode do the same.

Omega bolts upright as soon as she's freed, only to crumple in on herself with a pained gasp. She curls up on her side, clasping her stomach.

“It hurts,” Omega mumbles, barely audible. Wrecker feels entirely useless. Omega looks up at them, eyebrows drawing together as she spots their concerned expressions. “What happened?” She sits up slower this time, remaining leaned on her left elbow.

Wrecker can't speak. Even if he could force words past his lips, he's not sure there's anything he can say that'll help. He puts a hand on Omega's shoulder carefully, trying to comfort her at least.

After a pause, Tech explains the situation to her. It sounds almost cold, the way he tells Omega about her impending death and slim chance of survival, but Wrecker knows better than to think that of his brother. Tech leaves out the bit about the parasites eating Omega from the inside and making her drown herself, shortening that part to simply informing her that the infection will end in death. He also only briefly touches on the fact that Omega had a phase of aggression the previous night.

Omega nods along as she listens, though her eyes glaze over. It's a lot to process.

She doesn't say anything once Tech's done, only nods again.

Painkiller is another thing they can't afford currently, so the dosage Omega is given is the second to last they have on the ship.

None of them leave Omega's side unless absolutely necessary. It's hard to tell how she's doing emotionally, what with her barely speaking, but once the pain killers kick in, she at least moves a little more freely.

She complains of feeling extremely hungry after a while. They get a good amount of rations into her without a problem, all adult members of the squad skipping the meal themselves. Hunger's been gnawing at all of them near consistently now, not that they'll mention that around Omega. Wrecker's not sure he could force himself to eat anything whilst knowing Omega's life is at risk.

When Omega spots the bandages on Wrecker's arms, he regrets not putting his long sleeved blacks on to cover them. She immediately makes the connection.

“Did I do that?” she asks, voice small.

Wrecker wants to lie, make up another reason for his arms being wrapped, anything but make Omega feel guilty. But she already knows the truth.

“It's nothing bad, you barely got me,” Wrecker laughs weakly. It sounds hollow.

Omega still picks at her hands, mumbling an apology.

“Don't,” Wrecker says softly, taking her hand in his. She nods, even as the guilt is still clear as day on her face.

Once they're finally back where they finished their mission the previous day, Tech leaves to land the ship. Exchanging looks with his brothers, Wrecker prepares for the new mission ahead of them. By the looks on everyone's faces it's clear that none of them are going to rest until Omega is safe again.

#have some of my whump fanfiction #maybe someone here will want to read it :)#my writing #whump #whump writing

15 notes · View notes