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electrikworm · 10 months ago

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5 times Wrecker protected his siblings and 5 times they protected him: Chapter 2

As cadets, Wrecker gets into a fight with some regs bothering Tech.

Content warning: Blood, Child Abuse

Wrecker and Tech are physically about 11-12 years old in this, whilst the regs are 16-17

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Chapter Text

As Tech sets off on the familiar path to clone force 99's barracks, he starts taking notes on his datapad. He tries to get the information typed out as soon as he can after a lesson. Doing so greatly reduces the possibility of errors in his writing.

Tech trusts himself to retain all the necessary information, however revising what he's learnt before he is tested is easier done with the relevant notes at hand.

Halfway through writing a summary and halfway back to their barracks, Tech is interrupted by slamming into someone's chest. The training they're going through has made Tech dexterous enough not to fall over, instead stumbling back a few steps.

He walked into a reg, at least 2 standard years older than him based on the height difference. There are three others with him. None of them bare any distinguishing markings, though their hair varies slightly in length.

Tech quickly mutters an apology and tries to move past the group, lowering his gaze to his datapad. One of the regs scoffs. Tech quickens his pace. Not enough to seem like he's trying to run away. He's not a coward, he's just not in the mood to deal with regs.

“What's the point of those goggles if you're still too blind to not run into people right in front of you?” one of the regs sneers.

Tech knows he should keep walking, should ignore them, but the retort leaves his mouth before he can stop it. “You could have stepped out of the way yourself.”

Tech shouldn't have said anything. One of the regs stops him from walking further with a hand on the shoulder, digging his fingers into Techs skin.

“If you're going to disrespect me, have the decency to stop looking at that thing.” With that, the reg with the hand on Techs shoulder pulls the datapad out of his hands and passes it to one of his friends. The reg holds the datapad above his head, arm outstretched, like he's waiting for Tech to try and take it back.

Tech could probably reach it if he jumped. He's not going to do that. “I need that back.” Tech states calmly.

“What do you need a datapad for?” the reg with the datapad says with a laugh, waving it about. Does he really think Tech is stupid enough to try and grab it back?

“Many of my strengths relate to technology, so it is a useful asset in my training, and will continue to be of great use once I graduate.” Tech answers honestly, seemingly amusing the regs. He doubts anything he could say would de-escalate the situation.

“So without this hardware, you're not even special? So much for enhanced.” the one grabbing his shoulder says, spitting the last word like it's poison. More laughter. Tech would like to walk away, can't until they give him back his datapad. Tech twists out of the regs grip, taking a step backwards, tries to glare at them the way Crosshair does. If Crosshair said he managed to scare off some regs by looking at them, maybe Tech can too.

By the way one of the regs snorts with laughter, it isn't quite as intimidating as Tech had hoped.

“Don't you want your datapad back, defect?” the one holding it says, grinning. He's holding it lower now, trying to bait Tech into reaching for it. “You know they'll decommission you if you're not useful, right?”

Tech is going to going to argue with their logic when he's interrupted.

“Hey!” Tech would recognize his brothers booming voice anywhere. Wrecker must have rounded a corner, likely returning from training as well. The sight of his brother is a relief . Faster than the regs can react, Wrecker puts himself between them and Tech, grabbing the one holding the datapad by the arm and returning it to Tech.

Wrecker's tall for his age, almost as tall as the older regs. Definitively stronger than them. Tech still hopes this won't end in a fight.

“Another one?” one of the regs groans.

“Yeah, another one.” Wrecker glares at the group of older clones, doing a better job than Tech did. “You mess with him, you mess with me!”

Even Wrecker doesn't have the desired effect on the regs. If anything, they seem to find his anger funny too. “Are you trying to intimidate us?”

“Stow it.” Wrecker hisses back, moving forward with intent. Tech grabs his sleeve before they can find out what he was planing to do. Wrecker takes the hint, and when Tech turns to walk away, so does he.

Tech thinks to himself that that could have ended a lot worse, then immediately regrets letting that thought cross his mind when one of the regs calls after them.

“Take that datapad and those goggles away and you'd be decommissioned in hours.”

“What did you just say?” Wrecker snarls as he snaps back round. He's punched the reg that said it before even Tech with his enhanced mental capability can think about stopping him.

The entire fight only lasts a few seconds, but it feels a lot longer to Tech. It's loud, it's chaotic, Tech's pretty sure he just saw Wrecker grab one of the regs by the hair. Tech isn't going to let his brother fight alone, but just as he's regained his bearings, just as he's about to throw his own punch, the fight is interrupted.

“Osik, someone's coming!” one of the regs yells. They run off and Tech grabs Wreckers sleeve once again and starts pulling him in the opposite direction.

“Come on Wrecker.” Tech hisses in an effort to get his vod to hurry up. “We'll get in trouble.” Wrecker picks up the pace. After a good while of running and rounding a few corners they slow down. They didn't run in the right direction to get back to their barracks, but Tech knows his way around this area of Tipoca City more than well enough to lead them back on the way they want to be.

Tech gets a good look at Wrecker now. He's got a nosebleed and a split lip, blood running down the lower half of his face freely and off of his chin. “You're dripping blood.” Tech states. Wrecker tries to use his hand to stop the blood flow, but it seeps between his fingers in seconds.

“I think I bit myself.” Wrecker mumbles from behind his hand, sounding nasal. They walk in silence for a while. “I'd never let them decommission you, Tech.” Wrecker suddenly goes very earnest.

“They wouldn't decommission me over something so silly anyway.” Wrecker smiles at that, then lifts his hand in a way that lets Tech know exactly what he has in mind. Tech doesn't like it. “Don't even think about ruffling my hair with your bloody hands.”

“Hey, there's no blood on this hand.” For emphasis, Wrecker wipes the hand not trying to stop the blood running out of his nose and mouth on his trousers.

“Don't.” Tech warns. With a huff, Wrecker lets his arm hang. After a while, Tech breaks the silence. “Thank you.”

Wrecker huffs again, amused this time. “No need, it was nothing.”

Wrecker starts trying to ask Tech how his day was, but only get halfway through the question, the next corner they round leaving their path blocked by one of the facility staff. A human woman by the looks of it, and if Tech had to guess, he'd say she looks rather annoyed. Both the clones freeze.

“CT-9903, you will come with me and you will do so quietly.” Neither Wrecker or Tech do anything but share a quick worried glance. “Do not make me repeat myself.” She sounds really annoyed now.

That snaps Wrecker out of his stupor enough to nod and start moving. He smiles at Tech as he does, blood still running down his face. The sight does not make Tech feel any better.

“What is this about?” Tech asks, knowing it must be about the fight a few minutes ago. The regs must have told on them.

“This is about CT-9903 exhibiting a series of violent outbursts recently, and does not concern you.” The staff member answers, turning her back on Tech as she ushers Wrecker away. They have been getting in a lot of fights recently, though Wrecker hardly started even half of them. Finishing them, that Wrecker did do. It still hardly seems fair to Tech that Wrecker take all the blame.

Tech does nothing as his brother is lead away. Nothing he could say would change the outcome here either. He just walks the rest of the way back to their barracks feeling defeated.

Hunter and Crosshair are already there when Tech arrives, having a conversation that sounds a lot like it could turn into an argument any time soon.

“Wreckers in trouble.” Tech states instead of greeting his brothers.

“What?” Hunter looks ready to fight someone. Crosshair doesn't say anything, but his stance is similar to Hunters. Tech explains the situation to them, the confrontation with the regs, the fight, Wrecker being lead away. None of them ask where their brother was brought, they all know the answer. Disobedient clones get put in isolation, every member of their squad's been there before.

“You're lucky I wasn't there.” Crosshair hisses. “I would have killed those regs.”

Tech rolls his eyes. “No you wouldn't have.”

They don't talk about Wrecker. There's nothing they can do to change his situation.

Later, after they've eaten and went to bed, Tech can't sleep. He keeps thinking about Wrecker. It's irrational to worry about him, Tech knows where Wrecker is. Still, he is haunted by the thought that that blood covered smile would be the last he'd ever see of him. It's really the regs fault for putting the thought of decommissioning into Tech's head.

Tech feels like a fool when he quietly slips out of their barracks and carefully navigates the still corridors. Getting into the room with the isolations tanks is easier than it should be. Tech had managed to get in before, even at a younger age. It's dark, save for the faint light the tanks give off. They look almost like bacta tanks, the liquid filling them just missing the blue tint bacta has.

Four of the tanks are occupied. As always, Wrecker sticks out immediately. Tech spares little attention for the regs floating in the other tanks, heading straight to stand in front of the one housing his little brother. Even behind the breath mask, Tech can see little was done against the injuries Wrecker sustained in the fight, clear swelling and bruises showing.

But, Tech's unfounded worry has been calmed. Wrecker is fine, he's alive and no worse off then when tech last saw him. He'll be out of the tank in a couple days, and they'll take it from there.

Tech knocks on the transparisteel separating him from his brother, hoping Wrecker will sense his presence but knowing there's no chance he will. They're called isolation tanks for a reason. Still, a small part of Tech likes to believe he is helping Wrecker by simply being there. Nobody likes isolation, it wouldn't be a punishment if it was pleasant, but Wrecker, social and in need of physical proximity as he is, responds particularly bad. Last time, he spent weeks after his release clinging to his brothers, outright refusing to sleep unless he was holding one of them.

“I'm sorry.” Tech says as he knocks on the tank again. Wrecker wouldn't be here if Tech had successfully dealt with the dispute with the regs himself.

At this point, Tech should leave. He's assured himself of Wreckers safety, there's no need to stay. Instead, he sits down, leaning his head against the cool exterior of the tank and starts to quietly talk about his day, answering the question Wrecker never got to finish asking.

#tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #my writing #I used to headcanon Tech being younger than Wrecker #since we got their canon CT numbers I've started to really like the idea of Wrecker being the younger one

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fanfoolishness · 5 months ago

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a rain that sounds like home (7/8)

After the destruction of Tantiss, the Bad Batch is safe at last. As Crosshair begins to recover from his injuries, it becomes apparent that not all of his scars are physical, and that guilt and grief are wounds that cut deeper than any blade. His family is determined to be there for him -- if only he can let them in.

Canon-compliant, focusing on PTSD, amputation recovery, and sibling grief, with plenty of whump, hurt/comfort, and emotional catharsis. Set shortly after the return from Tantiss and my fic Breaching the Wall. 43,000 words total.

Chapter 7: Release.

Echo brings a gift for Crosshair, but things go wrong when Crosshair's trauma finally catches up to him. Crosshair and Omega POV. 7818 words. Art post here.

---

“So how’s it feel to take a break from saving the galaxy?” Crosshair asked. He sat perched on a rocky outcropping ringing a small natural pool, his feet submerged in the water, toes digging into the sand. Batcher waded placidly in the surf beyond the rocks before taking off to chase after Omega, who let out a whoop of delight before running over to where Hunter and Wrecker were building a citadel out of sand and stones.

Echo chuckled from where he sat beside Crosshair, reaching up with his left hand to shade his eyes. While there were clouds smudging the horizon, the sun was still fierce today. “You’ve got a high opinion of what we’ve been up to.”

”Tell me I’m wrong,” Crosshair challenged.

”We like to think we’re making a difference,” said Echo. “Time will tell. But we’ve been able to start cleaning up some of Tantiss’ messes. Hemlock had smaller operations elsewhere and we’ve been able to start shutting them down. We’ve gotten more clones out.”

Crosshair nodded. “Good.” His mouth quirked to one side. “Cody?”

”No. Sorry, Crosshair.”

Crosshair nodded. He knew Echo would have told him, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“So what do you think?” Crosshair asked. He gestured to Hunter and Wrecker, now being half-buried in the sand by Omega. Batcher rolled around in the sand, making funny little noises that carried on the breeze to where Crosshair and Echo sat.

“I think Pabu suits you all,” Echo said. He smiled. “The house is great. Never pictured you or Hunter being domestic, but it works. And Omega — she’s really happy here, isn’t she?”

”She is. She misses you, but she gets it.” Crosshair reached up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

We miss you, he thought but didn’t say.

They fell silent. Crosshair gazed into the pool, noting little fish with small tendrils around their mouths darting near his feet. A crab-like creature in fluorescent violet crept at the far end of the pool, waving two pairs of pincers and dancing back and forth. The tentacles of blue and green anemones drifted back and forth with every small movement of the water.

“Did you bring it?” Crosshair asked in a low voice.

”Yeah,” said Echo. “Just waiting on you. Did you tell the others?”

Crosshair rubbed his right arm. “No. Not yet. I wanted to make sure….” His voice trailed.

”That it would work?”

”Uh-huh.”

”We can have AZI come by anytime. After dinner or —“

Crosshair pictured Wrecker peering over his shoulder, Omega’s wide eyes, Hunter grimly watching. He couldn’t take that kind of pressure. “Maybe just you and me.”

“We could sneak off. But we’ll need a distraction…”

They watched as Wrecker erupted from the sand, chasing after Omega like some kind of crazed monster, clouds of sand flying everywhere with each leap he took after her. Hunter roused himself from his own sand prison, letting out a whoop as he ran after them.

Echo snorted. ”Yeah, that’ll work.”

---

They put in the call to AZI a few minutes later, once they got back to the house. The droid had set up a little medical clinic in Upper Pabu but also made house calls. Crosshair and Echo sat in the kitchen, waiting for the droid to arrive.

On the table before them sat a sleek chromium crate. Crosshair stared at it, his leg jittering under the table. He bit down on his toothpick, shredding it between his teeth. At last he reached out and flipped the lid of the crate open to look inside.

A metallic hand lay in the box, glinting beneath the lights. He picked it up gingerly, cradling it in his left hand, holding it near his stump. Its joints curled slightly with its own weight as he shifted it. It was colder than he’d thought it would be, but it matched the size of his real hand closely. He tried to picture it articulating, gripping, holding a blaster — or a razor. His face twisted and he set it back down within the crate.

”Synthskin is harder to get,” Echo said quietly. “I can keep looking —“

Crosshair shrugged. “A glove’s fine.”

“You ready for this?”

”Not exactly. But it’s not like I was ready to lose it, either.”

The door chimed, and Crosshair got up to key it open. The medical droid hovered there cheerfully, flying in with a twirl.

“CT-9904! CT-1409! It is a pleasure to see you both today. I understand you are in need of my services for attachment of a prosthetic. How are you feeling, CT-9904?”

”Fine. Can we get on with it?” he asked, fighting back his nerves.

”Very well. Where would you like us to proceed?”

“Maybe the bedroom,” Crosshair said. “I don’t know about doing surgery in the kitchen.”

Echo laughed. “Might not be the most hygienic, depending on who’s cooking.”

They moved to the bedroom, and Crosshair had to admit the droid was efficient, scanning his arm as soon as he sat down. Echo sat beside him.

“Your healing has progressed well, CT-9904. Your amputation site should be able to support this prosthetic without complication.”

”All right.” That, at least, he hadn’t failed at.

“I will begin by installing the interface between the organic components of your arm and nervous system and the cybernetics of the prosthetic.” The droid hovered over to him, taking his arm, a flurry of needles pricking his skin and numbing it before the droid held up something that looked like a slender microchip. Crosshair looked away, feeling only a faint sense of pressure. “The installment is not permanent. You will be able to remove the prosthetic as desired, whether it is for cleaning, repairs or replacement. Simply twist and release to undo the locking mechanism.”

”All right so far, Crosshair?” Echo asked.

Crosshair nodded, his mouth a thin line. Until he remembered what the droid had just said. “What do you mean, there’s an interface?” Crosshair asked. “That’s just where it attaches, right?”

”That is what it looks like at the surface level, yes, but the interface interacts directly with the remnants of the radial and ulnar nerves, and from there to the brain. This allows for precision control of the prosthetic and a true cybernetic melding of organic and synthetic.”

Crosshair stiffened.

”So… it would be controlled like my real hand?”

”Yes. With practice, you should be able to achieve proficiency and dexterity equal to that of your natural hand.”

Echo’s eyes widened slightly, understanding his fear, but he didn’t say anything.

Are you saying it’s in my head?

Crosshair’s mouth went dry. “What if I — I don’t want it to interface? Couldn’t I turn that off?”

”That is the only way the prosthetic will function,” AZI said. “It is a feature of its design.” The droid tilted his head at Crosshair, blinking his huge yellow eyes. For a moment, they looked disturbingly like Tech’s goggles. “Do you prefer I not proceed?”

He was afraid. Shaking, jerking, uncontrolled, weak…

He was terribly afraid.

But Echo had done this for him. Omega would be proud of him for trying. Hunter and Wrecker would ease off his back if he could show them he was getting better, especially with something big like this.

”Just get on with it,” he said.

He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against his toothpick. Even though he wasn’t looking, and the skin had been temporarily numbed, he could still sense a pressure, hear the sounds of clicking and whirring. And then suddenly there was a new weight on the end of his right arm, slightly heavier than the weight of his left arm, dragging it downard unexpectedly.

One last click, and then he felt it.

He opened his eyes with a gasp. He stretched out his fingers, haltingly, one at a time. The metallic fingers whirred with a soft subtle sound. He reached out to touch the new hand with his left, and jerked backward, realizing that he could feel the sensation in both hands.

”I — I can feel it,” Crosshair said, his voice cracking. He looked at Echo with wild eyes. “It’s working!”

Echo gave him a smile. “Looks that way.”

“Your new prosthetic is fully installed,” AZI said. “There are multiple exercises I would recommend to help accustom you to using your new hand, as it will take your brain some time to readjust. I can review them with you now if you wish, or link them to a datapad —“

”Datapad,” said Crosshair. “I’ll look at them later.” He let out a long breath. “Let me just… get used to it for now.” He stood up, using both hands to push himself off the bed. It was a dizzying sensation, the palm and fingers of his right hand curling around the edge of the bed, pushing upward, slackening once he rose to his feet. “Thanks, AZI. Echo.”

”How’s it feel?” Echo asked as they walked the droid back to the front door.

“Strange. But… familiar.”

The droid left the exercises on the datapad on the dining table, then took his leave. Echo and Crosshair turned and looked at each other.

”Well, now what?” Crosshair asked. He clasped his hands together. He clasped his hands together. The sensation was strange — the asymmetry between the two hands was apparent, but there were two of them. He felt half-faint with hope, with something light and free.

Echo looked at him proudly. “Whatever you want, Crosshair. What do you feel like?”

He could stop having to rely on them. Show them he’d recovered. Show Omega everything was fine.

He tried reaching down to the pouch of toothpicks on his belt with his right hand. His fingers took a moment longer than usual to make the required movements, but still managed it, and he inserted the toothpick between his lips. He flashed Echo a tight grin, and Echo laughed, clapping him on the back.

It wasn’t long until Hunter, Wrecker and Omega tromped in, still half-soaked and shedding sand as they came through the front door. “Oh no you don’t,” said Crosshair, getting up from where he had been sitting with Echo. “You’ll make a mess. Let me get you a fresh towel.” He crossed the distance to where they stood, and held out a pile of towels in his right hand.

There was a beat. Then a soft gasp from Omega, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Crosshair!”

”You went for it!” Wrecker exclaimed.

Hunter smiled at him. “How’s it feel?”

”It feels fine. Take your towels, you’re dripping,” Crosshair said coolly. He shoved the towels at them, but couldn’t hide a smile.

”So that’s where you two went!” Omega said with a hint of accusation. She wrapped her towel around herself and kicked off her beach shoes. “Can I see?”

”Sure,” he said. He held out his right arm, opening and closing the hand. “I’ll have to find a glove. Might scare the kids.”

”I don’t think it’s scary. I think it’s interesting,” Omega said. She slipped her hands over his, peering up at his face. “Can you feel that?”

”Yes.” It wasn’t the same as his real hand, but he could feel the pressure of her grip, the sensation of her warm skin brushing against the metal of the constructed palm and fingers. He squeezed her hand, tentatively, making sure not to squeeze too hard and hurt her.

The effort of focusing made his head ache and his wrist prickle. He shook the sensations away. Maybe AZI’s exercises would help sort that out.

”Where did you find it, Echo?” Hunter asked, drying off.

“One of Phee’s contacts knew a seller,” said Echo. “Pulled a few strings. AZI got things set up.”

“You sure were sneaky about it,” Wrecker said, finishing with his towel and laying it around his shoulders.

“There’s nothing wrong with privacy,” Crosshair said loftily. Wrecker snorted. Crosshair knew Wrecker had never understood the concept.

“Well, looks good, Crosshair,” said Wrecker, giving him a wide smile.

Crosshair lifted his hand and raised his first two fingers to his temple, then shifted his hand out in a slightly sarcastic salute to his brother. The hand obeyed his thoughts, and though there was a slight delay from when he planned the movement to when it happened, it was still working. It scarcely felt real, yet it was. Somehow, it was.

He grinned. He couldn’t help it.

---

“So what am I supposed to be doing here?” Crosshair asked, looking down at the baskets of fresh produce Omega had set out. They stood together in the kitchen while Echo, Wrecker and Hunter caught up in the living room. Batcher sat patiently between Crosshair and Omega, watching hopefully in case any food was dropped.

“I’m trying soup tonight!” Omega said. She stood up on the kitchen stepstool and propped up her datapad against the wall with Lyana’s recipe displayed. “I had it over at Shep and Lyana’s. It’s really good, but it has a lot of steps, and I thought maybe you could help me with the chopping. You know, for practice!” she said.

He nodded. “Right.” He held out his cybernetic hand, curling the fingers into a fist and then releasing them, then hesitantly picking up the knife.

“You only have to chop these,” Omega said quickly.

“And how big is chop again?”

“Chop is big. Dice is small. Mince is insanely small. Just chopping.” She estimated the size with her thumb and forefinger, holding them up to Crosshair.

“I think I can do that.” He set to work with a large deeproot, bracing it with his left hand, cutting slow careful rows into it with his new hand. Each chop took him time to line up, followed by a moment to carefully sink the blade into the vegetable’s flesh. He was going slowly to avoid cutting himself. Omega watched him closely, even though she knew she had other parts of the meal to prepare for; it was just mesmerizing to see Crosshair focusing, to see him with both hands, to see him doing this with her.

There was a small ahem. She looked up to see him giving her an amused look. “I thought I was helping you with dinner, not doing it all myself.”

“I just got distracted,” Omega said, unable to keep from smiling. She turned back to the water she was starting to boil for the noodles. “It’s just… you look happier. And you’re doing a really good job. How does it feel?”

He considered. “It’s not the same as before. I have to think about how to use it. The droid said that should improve.”

“I’m sure it will never feel exactly the same, but hopefully it starts to feel like second nature! Like when you first started training with your rifle, or when I started with my bow,” Omega said, finishing washing the last of the produce. “I hope this turns out all right. I know Echo can be picky.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Crosshair said in a low voice, winking.

Omega giggled. “He can look so stern when he wants to.”

“Mm-hm.” Slow, careful chop, chop, chop.

“How much longer is he staying?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him,” said Crosshair. “He said he might be able to fit in a supply run for the island tomorrow before he gets back to it.” He finished with the deeproot and reached for a pile of mallow tubers. Omega added the chopped deeproot to the soup base, which already smelled lovely from the spices she’d added. Once the vegetables had sauteed, she’d add the broth, and hopefully it would all work together.

“It’s good he’s been out there fighting,” Omega said quietly. She’d been thinking since last week, when she’d had that horrible nightmare about Hemlock and the bridge again. Everything that man had touched needed to be stamped out, and if her brother Echo was the one who had to be out on the front lines, destroying any last traces of Hemlock’s work, she understood. Thinking of it that way had helped soothe some of the sense of missing him, and she’d felt lighter all week. “We’ll always have room for him here, but I know he’s not done yet.”

“No. You can never keep a good ARC trooper down,” Crosshair agreed. He added the chopped mallow tubers to the pot and Omega gave them a good stir. They sizzled, commingling with the spices. “What else do you have?”

“These are really good,” Omega said, passing him the sea onions. “They don’t take as long to cook, so they go in after the roots.”

“The cooking part is all you,” he said. “I’d probably burn it all.” He got to work on the sea onions, mouth thinning in concentration. They had a different texture than the roots and Omega knew from experience they were a little trickier to chop.

“Thanks again,” Omega said.

“For helping with dinner? We all have chores.”

“Well, that too, but the other night,” Omega said shyly. She cast a glance back at her brothers in the living room, still talking amongst themselves. “I’ve been meditating again before going to sleep, and I haven’t had any more bad dreams. I’m glad you didn’t listen when I told you to get out of my room.”

He glanced at her, his expression soft. “Just wanted to help.”

“You did,” she said, reaching out and patting his arm. Her nightmares of Tantiss, Hemlock, the bridge, they all felt so far away now with Crosshair here and safe beside her, the rest of her family in the next room, everyone safe and healthy. She sighed contentedly, taking a big whiff of the vegetables, which were starting to smell delicious. “It’s like… I still had this weight I was holding onto. Like Tantiss was something that I couldn’t ever leave. But now —“

Crosshair’s knife clattered to the counter. She looked over hurriedly. “Did you cut yourself?”

He looked pale, tense, every line of him rigid and angular as he stared down at his new hand. He shook his head just slightly. “No.”

”Are you okay?”

Batcher whined, nudging Crosshair’s leg.

He picked up the knife again in his right hand, taking a deep breath. “Here’s the onions.” He scooped them towards her and she added them to the soup.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He set down his knife and reached for a toothpick, coming up with it and setting it in his mouth with his new hand. His eyes darted back and forth, but his face was impassive, back to a cool mask. “The onions sting.”

She squinted, feeling their fumes rise up from the pot. “Yeah, they do.” She fiddled with the spoon, stirring clockwise, then counterclockwise. “But anyway. Thank you. For helping me with dinner. And the other night. And… taking care of yourself.” She nudged him with her shoulder.

He looked faintly exasperated, but his eyes were fond. “You don’t have to look after me.”

”Don’t have to, but I want to.”

“Hm.”

She glanced up at him again, hoping to see him smiling. But his face tensed again, the lines between his brows tighter than usual, and she turned back to the soup, disquieted.

---

Crosshair stood in the refresher, holding his right wrist and staring at his new hand. He examined every facet of the hand, every joint, every hinge, every turn and twist. Everything was perfect. It was metal, cool where flesh was warm, different… but perfect.

But he’d dropped the knife while chopping vegetables. Had his hand shaken? Or had it been a momentary lapse, a disconnect between the new technology and his body?

AZI had said it could take time to get used to. That’s all it was. It had to be.

You should achieve dexterity equal to your natural hand….

He bit his lower lip, remembering just how useless his natural hand had become.

He stared at his hand, almost daring it to tremble, but it rested still and calm on the edge of the sink. He shook his head.

It’d be fine. There was no alternative. He was fine.

He left the ‘fresher, joining the others around the table. Omega had finished making her soup and was just finishing setting out a bowl at his seat. Batcher was curled under the table, ready for tidbits.

“What’s up, Crosshair? Upset tummy?” Wrecker asked.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Crosshair said in a withering tone. He looked down at the soup, somewhat impressed to see his chopped vegetables didn’t look too uneven.

“Well, let’s give this a try,” Omega said, plunging her spoon into her bowl. She blew on her spoonful first to cool it, then hesitantly put it into her mouth. Her eyebrows rose. “Hey, it’s pretty good!”

Crosshair followed her lead, holding the spoon in his right hand. The movements to get the spoon into the bowl were a little jerky, a little stiff, but he was able to take a spoonful of soup only slightly slower than the others. It was good, a rich and filling broth with fish and vegetables. He focused on taking another spoonful, and another, his hand obeying him slightly more smoothly with each attempt. He’d eaten half the bowl this way before he looked up and saw the others deep in conversation. He’d been focusing so sharply he’d completely blocked them out.

“Emerie sends her regards,” Echo said to Omega. “She’s back at base, working on analyzing some of the data we lifted from the secondary lab on Arvela-4.”

Omega nodded. “I’m proud of her. I’m so glad she changed her mind, in the end. I always hoped she would, but I couldn’t ever reach her all the way.” She frowned, as if she wished things had been different, but the disappointment lasted only a moment. “I just never thought it would be you who changed her mind!”

Echo chuckled. “The way she tells it, it was a perfect storm. You started her thinking about it. Then the kids. Then I showed up.”

“It must have been some lecture you hit her with,” Crosshair said slyly. His own interactions with Emerie had been less brutal than those with Hemlock, of course, but they hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy, and the best he could muster up for her was neutrality. He was glad she was being useful, though.

“Yeah, no one can stand up to Echo for long when he gives you that look,” Wrecker agreed, finishing off his soup and setting his bowl down. “Going for seconds, anyone else want more?” He got to his feet.

“I’m good,” said Hunter. “But this was delicious, Omega. We should keep this recipe around. Maybe I could figure it out, too.”

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Omega said, beaming. “And Crosshair helped.”

“Hardly. It was all you.” He took another spoonful of soup, which had started to cool off, but his hand continued to obey him. Maybe it’s going to be fine. “You’re getting good at this cooking thing.”

She gave him one of those dazzling smiles, and went back to eating her soup, her cheeks pink.

“You said Emerie’s working on data from Arvela-4. Anything useful?” Hunter asked as Wrecker sat down with another bowl.

Echo raised his eyebrow. “I thought you were staying out of things.”

“I am. We are,” Hunter protested. “Doesn’t mean I can’t stay informed.” He gave Echo a rueful smile. “Besides, old habits die hard.”

“Fair enough,” said Echo. “Emerie’s given us more information on some of the side projects Hemlock had cooking -- you should have seen what his plans were for the zillo beast! Good job getting her out, Omega -- but there’s still layers of encryption on some of the other data we don’t have a hope of getting through. Maybe Tech would have been able to make sense of some of it--”

Crosshair’s hand jerked, his spoon clattering violently in his bowl as his fingers trembled.

He stared down into the bowl, struggling to keep his breath calm, his eyes burning as his hand slowly quieted. He could feel his siblings staring at him. He let out a long breath through his nostrils, blinking rapidly.

“Crosshair?” Echo said quietly.

“It’s nothing,” Crosshair hissed. “I’m just getting used to it.” He dropped the spoon into his bowl, then quickly tried to hide his hand under the table, willing it to stop shaking.

Stop it. Stop it!

Batcher licked his hand under the table. He recoiled. He knew she was only trying to help. But the touch was an electric frisson boiling up his arm and back to his brain. He balled up his hand into a fist, pulling it away from the hound.

Hunter, sitting beside him, reached out to pat him on the shoulder, but Crosshair pulled back and dodged the attempt. “It’s fine. You don’t have to --”

“I said it’s nothing,” he snarled. But under the table he could still feel it, shaking and twisting against his thigh.

His heart rattled in his chest, his breath coming too fast. They were all staring at him, Omega’s face full of pity, Hunter and Wrecker concerned, Echo looking saddened --

“Stop staring at me.” He practically spat the words out. Nothing was wrong. He’d imagined it, he’d just been clumsy, it wasn’t the tremor coming back, it couldn’t be -- He whipped his arm out from under the table and grabbed his spoon, determined to get back to eating, and his hand trembled so badly the spoon fell to the table, bounced, and rolled off onto the ground.

“Crosshair,” said Echo in a low voice. He held out his hand. “Take a moment. It’s okay.”

“How is this okay?” Crosshair fired back, raising his voice. He could feel it, he was losing control, but he couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t fight the anger, the disappointment, the shame --

Omega stared at him with huge eyes, and Wrecker put his arm around her, drawing her close. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We can help --”

“Remember, AZI said this might happen,” Echo said slowly. “That it might function like your real hand. But this is just the first day. It can get better.”

“Does this look better to you?” He slammed his fist down on the table, spilling the rest of his soup over the edge of the bowl, the silverware jumping. His fist shivered. He stared at Echo, panting.

“The droid said there’s exercises. It’ll take time,” Echo said, keeping his voice as soothing as possible. It grated in Crosshair’s ears, winding him up further. “It took time for me, remember? I had to adjust to going back into action, the Kaminoans had to do a lot of work, Tech helped me--”

Tech’s name shattered the last remnant of his composure. A sick fury roiled up within him, blurring the edges of his awareness, tainting everything with a burning, agonized rage. He leapt to his feet and Echo stood up with him, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. It didn’t matter, too little, too late.

He thrust out his hand where they could see it. The metal hand’s fingers trembled faintly at first, then more aggressively into a twisting flutter, the fingers jerking spasmodically against the palm.

He’d never leave Tantiss, not really.

“Look at it!” Crosshair raged, waving his quaking hand in Echo’s face. “It will never be better! I’ll never be —” He clawed at it with his left hand, gripping the metal hand as hard as he could and twisting until he felt a click. He shuddered at the sensation of feeling his left hand twist his right hand off, the sudden return to feeling only his stump, prickling with its new attachment point. The hand was a hunk of metal again, disconnected once more from his brain, and he shoved it into Echo’s chest hard enough for the other clone to stumble where he stood.

“Crosshair, stop it --”

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” he choked. “It’s useless. I’m --”

He had to get out of here. He elbowed Echo out of the way as the others rose to their feet. He rushed past them. He couldn’t be around them like this. He couldn’t be around himself like this. He stumbled to the front door, smacking the wall panel with his left fist until the door opened, and bolting out into the open air.

He couldn’t breathe. He took great gulping breaths, trying to bring in air, but it didn’t work, it didn’t work, every breath seared. He looked wildly around the path on the side of the house, stormed around the corner to the patio and sank to his knees. He cradled his right arm against his chest, gripping his wrist so hard his fingernails bit and tore into the skin. The pinpoints of pain felt distant and muted. They were happening to someone else.

He bowed over himself, gasping for air.

There was no point in trying. There was no better he would get. He was ruined. Doomed to his right hand being gone or useless, doomed to always needing help, doomed to make things harder for everyone else, doomed to fall apart when the others were moving on.

He’d lost the only thing he was ever good at, and no matter what they did, that would always be true. What good was he now?

Through the maelstrom, he sensed something. Something familiar. Eyes — eyes on me —

His head snapped up, and he looked around wildly. Hunter stood beside the house several feet away, one hand resting on the wall.

“Get out of here.”

”Crosshair. Please. Let us help.” Hunter looked infuriatingly calm.

”Let you help —“ Crosshair closed his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do.”

”Sure there is,” Hunter said, edging closer to him, crouching down closer to Crosshair’s level. “We can get AZI back to look at it. Echo said there’s exercises. There’s Omega’s meditation. We weren’t born soldiers, we had to train, remember? So train for this.”

He shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

”You can. I know you can,” Hunter said, shifting a little closer. “And if it’s not perfect? It’s okay. We don’t have to have a hundred percent success rate anymore.”

He didn’t care that Hunter’s words made sense. They made sense for the others, not for him. ”It isn’t good enough! I can’t keep being useless like this, Hunter!” he burst out.

Hunter sat down cautiously beside him, and Crosshair let him, too worn down to push him away. He glared at him instead.

“You’re not useless, Crosshair. Hand or no hand. Believe me.” Hunter sighed. “You’re one of us, whether you like it or not. And you don’t need a hand for that.”

Crosshair tried to catch his breath. Tried to think things through. But it was all a painful, disorienting blur. At last he said, “I thought — if I could make this work, that it’d fix everything. But it won’t work.”

”Why not? Let’s just call AZI —” Hunter tried.

”The droid will say the problem’s organic. My nerves. My head. I’m the fucking problem,” Crosshair growled.

“Damn it. You’re not a problem!” Hunter snapped, glaring back at him. “Why can’t you understand that?”

“If you think that, you don’t understand me at all.”

“So help me understand,” Hunter said. “We’re not soldiers anymore. You can let it go. All of it.”

“How can I let go -- when --” He couldn’t even get the words out. There was something clawing inside him, a wound he’d been burying under his missing hand, Tantiss, Mayday, Kamino, everything he’d done, something he couldn’t dare examine. But a face in his mind’s eye blotted out everything. “When I never got to —” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even think it.

He stared down at his stump. Specks of blood dotted his arm where his fingernails had torn into the skin. Before he could stop himself he whispered, “He could have fixed it.”

”Cross?” Hunter asked, his face softening.

“Tech could have fixed it!” he shouted, and suddenly the weight of what he had just said crashed over him, sucking out the air in his lungs, crumbling the last of the walls he’d built up after Kaller, Kamino, Tantiss. It was too much, too much, too much.

Tech was gone, and he wouldn’t fix anything ever again.

He froze, staring at Hunter, who looked stricken. Hunter reached out cautiously. He laid his hand on Crosshair’s arm.

It was such a small touch. Just the simple weight of Hunter’s hand, warm and sturdy. He’d carried burdens far heavier a thousand times. He took a shaky breath. He was fine —

The sobs exploded out of him with a violence that nearly made him sick. His eyes screwed shut, tears forcing their way out to streak his face. Crosshair sank against Hunter, sobbing in a way he’d never let himself before, shoulders heaving, silent in one breath, his voice a hoarse and wordless cry the next. He couldn’t stop it; it was a wave churning him under, drowning him in grief, a force far bigger than himself. All he could do was take breath after raw, ragged breath. It poured out of him, Tech, Tantiss, Mayday, his hand, his mistakes, his failures, a corrosive guilt he’d been carrying for years now.

And Hunter put his arm around him, saying nothing, but saying everything.

He didn’t know how long he cried, or what made him stop. The sobs slowed to slow, shuddering breaths, then faded into quiet, hitching exhales. He felt as drained and boneless as he had after Kamino, after Barton IV, after CX training. At last he managed to open his swollen eyelids, realizing that the sun had fallen and the sky was deep in blues and grays and blacks. He let go of his right arm, noting how his fingernails had left bloodied half-moons in the skin of his wrist.

He lifted his head and pulled away from Hunter, slowly, stiffly. Hunter let him go, looking at him quietly, without judgment.

Hunter, who had stayed with him instead of leaving, stayed and held him through the storm.

“I should’ve been there, Hunter,” he whispered. Hunter let him speak, and he kept searching for the words, dropping his gaze so that he didn’t have to look his brother in the eye. “If I’d gone with you on Kamino… he’d still be alive.”

“You can’t live on ifs, Crosshair,” said Hunter, his voice rough. “You can’t die by them, either.”

“But Tech will never know,” he managed, his voice shaking, tears threatening again. He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, hiccuping. “I’ve been trying to make up for it, but I -- I can’t. No matter what I do… it won’t ever be enough. He’ll still be gone.”

“I know,” said Hunter, and Crosshair managed to look at him, realizing that Hunter had tears in his eyes too. “You think you’re the only one who blames himself? Join the club. But you can’t dwell on that.”

“But you were with him. You never left him. It’s not the same.”

Hunter met his eyes, then nodded. “Maybe it’s not. But he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. He’d have been proud of you, you know.”

Crosshair let out a strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Tech? Proud of me? He must have hated me for everything I did. I turned my back on him. On all of you! And for what?” He slumped. “I deserve what I got. That’s why the hand will never work for me.”

“Stop it,” Hunter growled, shaking him by the shoulder. Crosshair froze again. “Don’t you dare say he hated you. Tech’s the one who found you were a prisoner. He’s the one who got your message. And instead of running from the Empire, he’s the one who pushed to save you because you were still our brother. I’m ashamed to say he had to convince me. I’d… given up. But Tech didn’t. He was better than that.”

Hunter’s words didn’t make sense. Tech had to have hated him. To have blamed him. “You had the right idea,” he muttered.

“No,” Hunter said. He let go of Crosshair and leaned back against the house, his shoulder brushing against Crosshair’s. “I didn’t. I missed you, for some reason --” He cracked a loose, awkward smile, and Crosshair chuckled, ducking his head. “But I just pretended nothing happened. Like you’d never been one of us.”

“Reasonable of you.”

“No, it wasn’t. Tech still talked about you. He missed you,” said Hunter.

Crosshair squeezed his eyes shut, feeling fresh tears leak down his cheeks. He let out a shivery breath. “If he did, then that makes it worse. That he… died… before I could -- before I could --” His words failed again, and he shook his head. Before I could apologize.

“I know,” Hunter said softly.

Crosshair nodded, swallowing. Somehow having Hunter acknowledge his darkest thoughts softened them. “I wish I could tell him.”

“I think he knew,” Hunter said, gazing out at the darkened sea in the distance. “But you can’t ask him, and maybe that’ll never go away. Not really. It’s unfair. And it hurts, it fucking hurts.”

“It does,” he whispered.

There was a faint noise; the sound of the front door opening, footsteps. Batcher rounded the corner of the house first, running to both of them, licking Crosshair’s face, then Hunter’s. She parked herself at Crosshair’s feet, her bulk crushing his toes.

“Go on,” he said with a faint smile, patting her. He knew she was just trying to help, but he also knew his feet weren’t exactly a comfortable pillow. She looked at him for reassurance, and when he nodded, she reluctantly got to her feet to go explore the patio, looking back at him after every sniff. Eventually she settled into a scrape of sandy soil and made herself comfortable, but situated herself so she could still keep an eye on him.

“Batcher, come on, leave them alone,” Omega called, her voice strained. She came around the corner, Wrecker and Echo behind her. She looked at them hopefully. Probably relieved he hadn’t socked Hunter in the face. “Crosshair… how are you feeling?”

“We can leave ya alone, if you want,” Wrecker said.

Crosshair sighed, leaning back against the wall of the house, staring up at the cloudy night sky. “Stay, if you want. It’s fine. I’ve already made an ass of myself tonight. Can’t get much worse.”

“No more of an ass than normal,” said Echo warmly. Crosshair snickered through the clotted mucus and tears in the back of his throat.

The others joined them, sitting down on the patio, just quietly being with them. Omega sat down on Crosshair’s other side, weaving her arm around his. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Crosshair said haltingly, “Sorry.”

“You’d better be,” said Echo. Crosshair opened one eye, looking at him skeptically. “If you were trying to knock me down, that was pathetic.” Crosshair chuckled again. How Echo put up with him, he’d never know.

“Is there anything we can do, Crosshair?” Omega asked gently. She patted his knee with her free hand, and he smiled apologetically at her.

“No idea,” he said honestly. “Clearly, I’m not the best one to ask.”

Wrecker propped up his chin on his hands, wearing a sad smile. “It ain’t just your hand, is it? And it ain’t just tonight.”

”No. It’s… everything. My hand. Tantiss. My… mistakes. And… Tech.” He closed his eyes. “Especially Tech.” There was a faint, guilty sense of relief, finally saying it aloud.

“Oh, Crosshair,” said Omega, leaning against him. He relaxed slightly, her small hands grounding him. “Why didn’t you talk to us? You know we all miss him too. All the time.”

”How do you talk about him? Without —“ He put his hand over his face, squeezing his eyes closed. “How?”

”It gets easier,” Wrecker said. “But it’s scary at first. Not gonna pretend different. But… sometimes it’s nice to talk about him. He’s our brother, y’know? Always will be.”

“Tech isn’t the first brother I’ve lost,” offered Echo. “Fives and I… we were as close as we could be. He thought he saw me die, and he never knew I was still out there. Rex told me how we lost him, and… it’s hard. I won’t say it’s not.”

Wrecker reached out, patting Echo on the shoulder.

Echo smiled at him. “But I started to realize, their deaths aren’t who they are. I won’t let that be what defines them. Fives was one of the finest ARC troopers there ever was, and that’s how I’ll remember him. Same goes for Tech. Tech was a genius. He was selfless. And he flew like a damn maniac.” He grinned fondly. “That’s how I think of the brothers I’ve lost. Who they were, and what of them I carry with me.”

“I like that,” Omega said softly. She thought for a moment. “Once Tech told me that he processed the world differently, but that it didn’t mean he didn’t care. I used to think nothing ever bothered him, that he just didn’t care about things like I did. But he cared about things like he did. And he cared about you, Crosshair. He told me he respected that you’d chosen a different path. I never thought about it like that. But Tech was always thinking. I loved that about him.”

Crosshair tried to picture Tech saying those things. He couldn’t quite imagine it. But there was something warm stirring within him at the idea, at Omega’s words. He turned to her and nodded with a lump in his throat.

“Didja know he was a racer?” Wrecker asked. “One of the best the Outer Rim’s ever seen?”

“What’s this?” Hunter asked, giving Wrecker a suspicious look.

Omega wore a secretive, gleeful smile. “We might have kept it a secret because we knew you’d get mad.”

“What do you mean?” Hunter asked warningly.

“Cid needed backup and took us to a riot race,” Omega said, shrugging innocently. “Her racer broke down and, well, Tech said he’d do it.”

“I thought humans didn’t riot race,” Crosshair said.

“He was crazy!” Wrecker roared, laughing full-throatedly. “Humans don’t do it. But he jettisoned his weapons! Took the abandoned racing tunnel! Led the other drivers into a trap! He was cutthroat.”

“And then when he won, the whole stadium went nuts!” Omega said. She pulled her hands away from Crosshair, shaking her fists in the air. “‘Tech, Tech, Tech…’” She laughed, sinking back to her sitting position, shaking her head. “We, um, all made a pact not to tell you and Echo.”

“It wasn’t exactly laying low,” Wrecker admitted, looking sheepish.

Hunter sighed. “Probably for the best you didn’t tell me then.” He cracked a grin. “Only Tech would’ve been that crazy.”

“Tech wasn’t one for laying low in general,” Echo mused. “You know he fought on a broken leg on Serenno?”

“That sounds like him,” Crosshair conceded. He hadn’t been the only one of the group with a habit of telling them he was fine when he absolutely wasn’t.

“By the time we got to him for a pickup, he’d passed out, but not before taking out multiple stormtroopers. That was a nasty break. I was mad at you for not keeping him off it,” he said, shaking his head at Echo. “I knew Tech wouldn’t have any sense when it came to taking it easy, but I thought you at least would be responsible.”

“Tech was a force unto himself, and you know it,” Echo said defensively. Hunter smirked.

Crosshair looked back and forth between them. Something in his chest was loosening, breaking up, easing the awful ache he’d been carrying. He took a deep breath, and his lungs seemed to fully expand for the first time in months, maybe years.

“Did I ever tell you about the time we accidentally got obliterated?” Crosshair asked.

The others stared at him in surprise, then leaned in to hear his tale. He turned to Omega. “Don’t get any ideas. Like I said, this was accidental.” He smiled slightly. “Remember that mission on Hassaria?”

“I remember you and Tech got separated from us,” Wrecker said. “Had to pick you up the next day, and you both looked like crap. Sweaty… puking your guts out… Tech said you guys got poisoned by some local bug or something --”

“Actually, a local Republic sympathizer took us in after we wiped out the clankers,” Crosshair said. “They offered us dinner and something to drink, and we didn’t realize that whatever it was, it was strong. Not until it was too late.”

He lowered his head, trying not to laugh. “The Hassarian started trying to teach us a local fighting song. We, uh, might have joined in.” Joined in was an understated way to describe Tech bellowing the words out in a fine tenor, Crosshair singing the women’s parts in a wailing falsetto, and the Hassarian declaring them their new best friends forever. “We might’ve also started singing every dirty song Wrecker ever taught us.” He reached down, taking a toothpick from his belt. “Not that you heard it from me.”

Omega stared at him, open-mouthed, eyes wide. “Crosshair!”

Hunter laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, when we rendezvoused with you I could smell the alcohol from twenty paces. But I thought it was funnier if I didn’t let on and made you nurse your hangovers in secret, so…”

“You knew?” Wrecker yelped. “Oh come on, I woulda loved to make fun of ‘em!”

Omega giggled, nudging Crosshair in the side. “I’ve never heard any of you sing. Maybe we should start a band. Lyana’s been getting me into Trandoshan funk, maybe that’s your true calling…”

Hunter held out a hand. “We might want to take this indoors,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “Just a hunch, but --”

A bolt of lightning flashed distant across the horizon, followed by a clap of thunder and the first few drops of rain. Batcher let out a howl from where she’d been dozing in the sand, and scampered to the door. Hunter got to his feet, offering Crosshair a hand up. Crosshair clasped it with his left hand, allowing his brother to lift him to his feet.

For a moment, they looked at each other.

Crosshair saw Hunter. Really saw him: the weight of all that had happened since Kaller was etched in the lines on his face, the bags beneath his eyes. The years had been hard on him, too. He knew his brother could have turned away from him, and had, many times.

But he was here now, his strong hand gripping Crosshair’s, his support real and true. He was loyal. And that meant everything.

Crosshair nodded at him, and Hunter nodded back, and they went inside with the others to get out of the evening rain.

#the bad batch #the bad batch echo #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch tech #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch omega #LET. CROSSHAIR. BREAK. DOWN >:)#this one's a doozy i hope you all enjoy him finally getting here!!!#my batcher fic #a rain that sounds like home #I’ve been working toward this moment for months and I just really hope it works #please let me know if you liked it 💜

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tangents-within-tangents · 5 months ago

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Sigh I swear the bar is so low with writing sometimes.

I’ve just been remembering how much it bothers me when there’s no lasting consequences or acknowledgement for things. When everything resets like nothing ever happened at the start of the next episode, or even the next scene sometimes. How cool and rare it was that Wally’s arm was in a cast for a whole 5 episodes of Young Justice. How relieved/excited I was when Mulder actually still had bandages on his fingers the episode after he broke them because FINALLY something carried over! Or when Hook was leaning on someone for support in the background after the fight scene in Pan. How impressed I was to see Katniss still crying hysterically for Rue a few scenes after her death. How surprised I was to actually see a hint of the effect of Echo’s extremely traumatic experience when he panicked in the medbay. How my heart soared when he insisted on rescuing Gregor because omg he’s acting in a way that makes sense for his character! Clinging to every small scrap we get to see of clones showing real emotion when so often they seemingly never bat an eye at their losses and never mention their fallen brothers again.

I love these shows I swear, but it just gets so frustrating! Like I’ll literally be so nervous no one will be affected realistically, or react like a human, or behave in-character and then I get so excited on the rare occasions they do. And then I realize wow the bar is so low, shouldn't that just be, you know, writing 101?

Like I remember some episode of some show (the Seeker? Or something idk) where a character was captured and tortured and not ten minutes after being rescued his friend was like “hmm you sure are quiet today” like YEAH I SURE HOPE HE IS?!

#is it really too much to ask for??#lol is it any wonder we turn to fan fiction to fill in all the gaps?#clones wars/bad batch just in general needs so many more hugs and tears imho #sometimes i’m so grateful for omega bc it’s like the writers think she is allowed to react like a real human just bc she’s a kid #she and wrecker seem to be the only ones “allowed” to initiate hugs #they basically dedicated a whole episode to her dealing with echo’s departure and that was amazing!#echo reacted when cut mentioned rex #gooood #but when rex actually showed up? when he mentioned FIVES?! Not so much!#and isn’t the whole point of tcw that the clones AREN’T expendable?#That they aren’t emotionless interchangeable droids and their lives aren’t meaningless #So how come the writers so often treat them like they are? Narratively at least #and i get if they’re trying to keep things less intense by skimming over grief stuff #but like stop killing people then? Lol yeah these shows haven’t been for kids in a loooong time #like did you see the s7 finale? Don’t act like you don’t know how emotions work filoni et al #this applies to so many shows and things obvs but you know what’s been at the forefront of my mind lately lolll #venting #small rant #pet peeves #writing #writing pet peeves #x files #young justice #the hunger games #tbb #the bad batch #the clone wars #tbb echo #Pan 2015 #i know literally no one cares about that movie but that detail stuck out to me lol

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clownery-and-fuckery · 1 year ago

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Debated not posting this for a minute but I figured I would anyways to end the year with a pop :) not gonna get anything else finished this year so I might as well post this!!!

Enjoy (: im probably gonna rewrite it at some point :)

"So. You're really going?"

Tech looks up from the porch. Crosshair is quick to shut the door, standing awkwardly just shy of where Tech sat.

"I am," He nods. "I'm leaving in the morning."

Crosshair doesn't look surprised. "Thought Hunter was dropping you off in the afternoon?" He asks, leaning on the doorframe.

Tech shakes his head. "No. I decided to just take the bus on my own. It is less trouble that way."

His tone is quiet, his shoulders have slumped, confessing his plan to practically run away from them.

He looks up to his older brother. "Are you going to stop me?"

Crosshair debates it. He wants to. He doesn't want his brother to leave at all. He doesn't want to admit it, either.

Sighing in defeat, he shakes his head.

"It's your choice." He forces out. "I can't stop you."

Something relaxes inside Tech, and he pats the spot next to him. Crosshair takes the unspoken offer, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his younger brother.

"This party's for you." Crosshair tells him. "Are you gonna sit out here all night?"

Maybe, Tech wants to say. Maybe I want to hide from the people I'm leaving.

Instead, he sighs. "I just needed some air. Between Wrecker, Cody and Hunter, I feel a bit..." He trails off.

"Suffocated." Crosshair supplies. Tech nods.

"Fair." Crosshair sighs, leaning back to look at the stars. "They're worried about you."

"I know," Tech groans, head in his hands. "That's what makes this worse."

It takes a moment for them to speak again, and when Tech does, his voice breaks, quiet and unsure as he stares at the grass.

"I don't want to go." He admits to his brother finally. "I'm– afraid. I dont want to leave you again."

Crosshair is sucker-punched by the fear in his younger brothers voice. He startles for a moment, completely caught off guard. He looks to Tech, and his heart clenches.

"Tech-" He starts, hand hovering over his trembling shoulder. "Tech, it's only for a few weeks."

His reminder is far more gentle than anything Crosshair's ever said in his life.

"I know," Tech scrubs at his eyes insistently. "I know."

Something tells Crosshair that's not true.

"It's silly," Tech continues, sniffing. It catches Crosshair off guard again. "To be this afraid. I just–"

Tech tries to rationalise it. "I live in college. I spend four of five nights in a working week away from home. It's fine."

It is not fine, and Tech saying it only proves that.

Crosshair listens, hovering. "I've been alone in a lab for years." Tech gasps out now, gesturing to nothing as he looks to the sky. "Why is it so hard now?"

Crosshair hesitates, then rests his hand between Tech's shoulder blades. He traces patterns into his brothers back, and whispers into the space between them.

"It's alright to be scared," The next words are a forced admittance, but a necessary one. For Tech. "I'm scared too, honestly."

Tech turns to look at his brother. His eyes are glassy, confused as he watches his brother.

"No one actually wants you to leave, Tech." Crosshair tells him. "Especially not to go to some random mountain lab with no reception."

Tech laughs, but the end catches on a sob. Crosshair continues.

"But this is good for you." He presses, wiping a stray tear from his younger brothers face, more gentle than Crosshair is used to being. "You're gonna do great things there."

Tech smiles, a bit shaky, and nods. "You're working with the best scientists around," He continues. "But I already know you're gonna be better than them." Crosshair assures with a shrug.

Tech snorts, wiping his own eyes now as he leans on Crosshair. "Don't say that," He mumbles. "They're far superior—"

"Not to me." Crosshair interrupts. "No one's smarter than you in my eyes."

Tech doesn't answer. He's staring at the grass again, unease beginning to creep back in. "What about you guys?" He asks, looking up to his brother.

Crosshair hesitates again. "We'll be fine," He shrugs Tech off. "A few weeks without you won't hurt, might actually teach Wrecker how to do the laundry."

Tech laughs, covering his mouth as Crosshair smirks slightly.

He considers his younger brother for a moment, then sighs, leaning in closer to rest his chin on top of his head.

"And..." Crosshair starts, his voice trailing off into a whisper. "And I promise to talk to Hunter. Properly."

It's a promise he knows will be hard to keep, but as he feels his brother grin ear to ear, he can't help but smile too.

"Can't promise we'll be best friends." Crosshair makes sure to clarify. "But I'll try."

"Thank you." Tech says, hugging his brother. "Thank you, Cross."

Crosshair would move the whole solar system to witness the smile on his younger brothers face again.

"Take care of yourself, too." Tech asks, still hugging his brother. It takes Crosshair a moment to process this isn't a touch he initiated as he hugs back, near squeezing his brother to death.

Oh, scared doesn't begin to describe how Crosshair feels.

"I will." He assures. "Someone has to pick up after them, with you out on the field."

They laugh. "I'll miss you–" Tech's voice almost cracks again, mood suddenly dropping again as he grips his brothers shirt.

"I know," Crosshair interrupts, smoothing his hand across Tech's back. "Me too. We'll see each other again soon. It's only a few weeks."

"Right." Tech forces out. "Only a few weeks."

They grip each other tight for a few more moments, content to sit there until sunrise. Crosshair wonders now more than ever if he'll cope.

"Come on." Crosshair stands, pulling Tech along with him. "We've got goodbye hugs to rush through. And cake."

"Cake?" Tech cringes for a moment.

"Red velvet." Crosshair reassures. "Echo made sure of it. The kid– Omega, has something for you, too."

Tech lights up, and takes Crosshair's hand. "Okay," He nods, speaking softly as he prepares himself to brave their crowded kitchen again. "I'm ready."

Crosshair wasn't.

He had nodded, and led Tech back inside, where they were greeted with cheers, hugs, and affections beyond either of their comprehensions.

Crosshair led Tech back inside, where he was greeted warmly.

Where Wrecker swooped them in the softest of hugs.

Where Echo squeezed their arms as comfort.

Where Omega dove into their guts to show them her most recently discovered video.

Where Hunter smiled genuinely at Crosshair for the first time in years.

Crosshair led Tech to bed hours later, when the drinks had sapped their energy, and the house was filled with snores. Crosshair tucked Tech into bed, bags packed and alarm set.

Tech was already asleep, curled up and snoring. "Night, Tech'ika." Crosshair whispers. "I'll be here when you get back. Promise."

Crosshair slept through Tech leaving, so did everyone else.

Crosshair wishes he didn't.

Barely three weeks later, when Crosshair had found the time to be home with his siblings, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Crosshair grumbles from the stairs. There's a chorus of thanks, and Crosshair pulls the door open.

Fives is at the door. He's crying. Why is he here? Why is he crying?

"Cross," He starts slow. "Hey. Is everyone home?"

Crosshair hates that the first thing he zones in on is the dog tags and bags. He recognises the bags immediately.

He helped pack them, after all.

"Crosshair." Fives voice is distorted. "Is Hunter there? Echo, maybe?"

When he spots the digits on the tag, Crosshair feels like someone hit him with a truck. All the air is sucked out of his lungs, and he locks up.

Those are Tech's. Tech never takes his tags off.

He snatches the tags from Fives's hands. Even through already blurring vision, he can make out the last digits as easy as breathing.

9907.

The confirmation is like a bomb going off, a wave of heat gripping his heart tight.

Tech is gone.

Crosshair stares at the tags, numb, as Hunter wanders towards them. "What's going on?" He asks. "Fives? What, you moving in with those bags?"

"I wish." Comes the distant reply from Fives. "Look, Hunter—"

"Tech's dead."

Crosshair doesn't realise he's spoken until the words have already tumbled from his mouth.

Hunter stares between them, glances to the bags, then to the tags clutched tightly in Crosshair's hands, and it clicks.

Crosshair can't hear over the ringing in his ears. Hunter's tearing through the bags, demanding answers. Echo is quick to join them, asking Fives what's happened, why is Hunter screaming?

Wrecker hangs back with Omega, watching the door. All Crosshair can do is stare at the tags. Tech's tags. He almost doesn't believe they belonged to him.

Crosshair swore he'd be here, it never once occurred to him his younger brother wouldn't be.

Hunter's reduced to sobs. He's knelt on the floor, surrounded by the bags he picked up for Tech to pack, clutching some assortment of clothes as he weeps.

Echo's standing over him, voice sharp as he snaps questions at Fives. His twin doesn't have any answers.

Omega stands beside Crosshair now, daring to touch his leg. He barely glances at her, and she turns to Wrecker, asking muffled questions.

Wrecker doesn't answer her. No one does.

Crosshair slides to the floor, curls up into himself, and clutches the tags close to his chest.

It's deathly silent.

Hours later, after the sun had set and the other had picked themselves off the floor and had congregated in the living room, Crosshair was still sat against the wall, curled over the tags.

Hunter sat down next to him, wordlessly, and they stayed close. Silent, still, but close. Crosshair wouldnt have known he was there had he not heard Hunter's quiet sigh as he settled.

They didnt speak, just sat close enough to know the other was there.

Teehee a little bit of pain while I set up a good explanation and some Hunter and Crosshair talk for you (: hope you enjoyed :D

#i uh #didnt really like this #but thats alright #sw the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb omega #sw modern au #it skips a bit ahead from the dinner one i wrote #ill have to post them separately

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