#Tbb Echo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

staycalmandhugaclone · 1 day ago

Text

Fool's Errand Pt 12

Part (12) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Eh. Decided to go ahead and break it up. Soooo there'll be one more chapter after this to finish this all up.

Warnings: Reference to medical procedures, panic, eye injuries, profanity, blood, mild violence, guilt

WC: 4,234

When wars first begin, there’s a sense of invincibility that drives society forward with resolute conviction. Tempers are freshly stoked, confidence is dangerously high, and the thought of defeat is rejected with little more than passing thoughts. That confidence lends to impulsive and hasty decisions beneath the false hope for a quick and definitive victory, and while that often sees those first few months filled with seemingly unending supplies and warriors and weapons, once that initial surge fades, so to do the funds that enabled it. But the soldiers remain.

Whether boasting the highest quality armor and munitions or left with mere scraps, those forced to fight have no choice but to find a way to make do all the same. Either they adapt or they lose. They die. But more than that, failure means the death of their brothers. It means letting the war drag on even longer, and I don’t doubt that that is a far more powerful motivator to the clones than any loyalty to a people who regard them as faceless machines or to some governing body who tallies their deaths as mere numbers.

Tech would balk at anyone referring to the Marauder as ‘scrap,’ but the simple fact remained that it was meant to be an attack shuttle. The elegant crests of its fins were designed for rapid, ruthless assaults more akin to guerilla warfare, not the grueling battles it’s been forced to endure, but that small vessel was all these men had. The interior was barely the size of a small apartment, and not only had the five of them figured out a way to make it a home, they’d made room for me as well, and, still, they prevailed through mission after mission, often crammed together for days of interspace travel without complaint. Well, without much complaint.

The room that had become their medbay was barely large enough for a couple of beds to lie toe-to-toe. This shuttle wasn’t originally intended to even have a medbay. Any wounded it carried were assumed to be on-board only long enough to reach a proper facility. Reality had proven far less ideal.

I could hear Crosshair’s broken, shuttering breaths hiss through clenched teeth from across the ship as I wrenched my mattress from the metal frame and shoved it into the corner. The drugs I’d given him offered some manner of relief, but whether that relief was in truly easing the pain or simply robbed his mind of the clarity to remember it, I couldn’t say, nor could I let the doubt and guilt of his suffering distract me.

Before the cot had even settled, I was tearing through the cabinets lining the far wall, shoving armfuls of bacta and gauze onto the counters before reaching back for saline bags and IV ports. This room wasn’t meant for multiple patients. This ship wasn’t meant for multiple patients, but I needed them both in here, needed to be able to watch their chests rise and fall lest the panic of not knowing keep me darting from room to room.

Fueled with that fear, I ripped Hunter’s cot from his bed and dragged it back with me, some unrelenting, subconscious thought screaming that he’d be uncomfortable in anyone else’s. It wouldn’t smell right to him; wouldn’t feel right. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t smell; that he wasn’t likely to even wake before we rendezvoused with a flag ship; that he’d never know. I knew he’d only be comfortable in his bed, so his was the mattress I pilfered from the bunkroom to set beside mine before finally letting myself race back to the main cabin.

That young girl followed me step by step, wide eyes studying my every movement, though she managed to never get in the way. Later, I’d wonder over the return of that innocent curiosity despite the nightmare she’d just witnessed, the nightmares she’d suffered firsthand. Later, I’d marvel at how readily she allowed that curiosity to drive her rather than remain cowering as far from the danger and noise and violence as she could get. Later, I’d hate myself for my failure to encourage that curiosity, for not offering some words of reassurance and praise, but my focus was already overwhelmed, veins thrumming with an anxiety that screamed at me to go faster, think harder, shouting that I’d miss something vital and it would be my men who’d pay the price.

Crosshair’s knees were curled listlessly to his chest, torso still rocking with unsteady, strangled gasps as one hand clutched the grate beneath him while the other remained flush against his face, palm pressed firmly to the bandaging over his eyes for what façade of relief that pressure might offer. Before I let myself run to him, my gaze dropped to the monitor beside Hunter, nearly holding my breath as I studied the rhythmic dance illustrating a heartbeat I still struggled to believe was real.

Hand trembling, I yielded beneath that terrified doubt for just a moment, movements shaky as I kneeled between them and reached once more for Hunter’s neck, cursing the way my fingers trembled too violently to feel anything for several seconds, but it was there: that steady thum… thum… thum. Finally, I felt myself inhale, and the euphoria of air filling my lungs lifted a haze I only had the clarity to even recognize once it was gone.

Reassured that Hunter was stable, I turned back to the still weakly writhing sniper, carefully reaching out to touch his shoulder, and my heart sank at how sharply he flinched from me.

“Easy, Cross; it’s me.” I murmured, hand slowly tracing the rigid tendons stretching up toward his neck. That tension didn’t leave him, but he no longer tried to find enough strength to pull away from me. “I’m going to help you to the medbay, okay? Then we’ll get something stronger in you to make the pain stop.” If he heard me, he offered no response, halting breaths still causing his entire body to shake. “Let’s get some of this armor off, first.”

Taut muscles and dazed thoughts left him far from helpful as I tried to gently wrestle him free of the heavy plastoid. His arms were easy enough to strip, but when I began lifting the cuirass free, he reacted violently, lashing out with whatever limb was nearest to me, deaf to my every reassuring murmur and softly spoken promise as whatever nightmares haunting the darkness around him left him panicking in a way my words simply couldn’t breech.

“Crosshair, I know you’re scared, but – ngh! – I… I need you to try to b-breathe.” I had to fight to keep the strain from my voice, but the sudden impact of his elbow to my hip nearly sent me flying, and, panting, I had to take a moment to collect myself. I knew how thoroughly the meds would rob him of a coherency already ruined by the feral panic of suffering beneath such crippling pain for so long, and I could only guess toward the terror of finding himself trapped in a darkness he couldn’t escape; how alone and exposed and defenseless he surely felt upon being so ruthlessly robbed of his sight, but I had to find some way to get through to him before he hurt himself… or me…

“Alright… Cross? Crosshair, it’s just me, baby. It’s -” Before my name could more than rest atop my tongue, he kicked out at me, his heel just catching my stomach with enough force to wrench the air from my lungs, body crashing back with a deafening crack as my head bounced off the hard floor. Some part of me registered a frightened gasp, and I hated the guilt that tiny sound filled me with. Should have been faster… Should have thought ahead and moved the girl somewhere safe, somewhere far away from what wretched truths normally lay hidden behind medbay doors and sterile sheets and promises that loved ones would be fine absent word of the agony they’d suffer first.

Jaw straining open in some futile effort to draw air into lungs burning with suffocation despite how uselessly my diaphragm sputtered beneath my every effort to breathe, I forced myself to move, limbs scrambling for enough purchase to jerk an elbow beneath me, gaze first flickering to the girl watching us with wide eyes, wincing at the way her body tucked into the corner between a crash couch and the far wall, before shifting back to Crosshair. She was safe… but, Maker, there was no hope of her coming out of this unscarred…

Once more… I’d try just once more to reach him before resorting to simply sedating him…

“Cross?” I cringed at the faint wheeze distorting my voice, but it was clear he hadn’t heard me anyway, not really. He sat rolled back on a hip, leg straining to push himself up amidst halfhearted attempts to get a foot beneath him, free hand now held out between us in a threatening fist while the other continued burring against his eyes, chest bucking with rapid, shallow gasps, and I wondered how much of this he’d even remember later.

“Shhh.” The gentle sound was barely audible over how quickly the air hissed between his teeth, lips bared in an enraged snarl that did little to hide the fear so clearly overwhelming him. “Shhh, I’m right here, Cross.” I whispered as my own breathing gradually began to slow. His shoulders tensed, but there was a flicker of hesitation that drew a small huff of relief from me. “I know, I know… but I’m going to help, okay?” The comforting murmur left on a carefully slowed sigh. The words didn’t matter. I just needed him to hear me – to hear the calm in my voice and let it grant him some sliver of reassurance.

“Shhh.” I breathed once more, fingers lightly slipping around his trembling fist, and he so nearly wrenched the limb back, muscles jerking in a violent flinch… but he paused just before actually breaking that contact, and I instantly rewarded him with a smile I could only hope he’d hear in the quiet praises and promises that continued falling softly from my lips.

“That’s it.” I breathed, touch shifting gently over scarred knuckles and taut tendons. “Just take a couple slow breaths with me… We’re gonna get you out of that armor and nestled up in my bed, okay?” My thumbs followed the stiff ridge along the base of his palm in a subtle invitation for him to open his hand. His grip tightened for just a moment, clinging to some fleeting rush of the illusion of safety granted by the rage fueling that lethal instinct to fight back, but then that tension began to fade. It was hesitant, fingers loosening in tentative increments, and locking again for several seconds before opening a bit more.

“Nothing’s ever simple with you, is it?” I murmured fondly, thumbs dragging firmly over what I could of his exposed palm, and my heart jumped at the subtle way his shoulders began to droop. “Could have had you both snuggled up and resting in the damn medbay by now, but you just had to turn into a feral tooka on me.” A tiny, accidental giggle sounded from behind me, and I glanced back to shoot the girl a knowing look as she quickly clasped a hand over her lips. If Crosshair heard it, he was fading too quickly to react, exhaustion a merciless thing as the loss of terror-induced adrenaline left his head sinking toward his chest, torso curling forward as his entire body began to sway.

“Easy.” I murmured as he jerked upright slightly to catch himself. My hand slid up his arm before finally trying once more to pull at his cuirass. “Can you lift your arms for me?” He didn’t respond at first, breath hitching slightly as a weak tremor stole through him, but then he began to obey, movements almost begrudging beneath the clear effort it took. He swayed even more wildly after I’d managed to pull that heavy shell of armor away, and I had to lock an arm around his back to steady him.

Weak… Maker, he was so frightfully weak in that moment, and my heart ached for the disdain he’d surely feel for that weakness were his mind clear enough to recognize it.

“Just hold onto me for a minute, okay?” I whispered, already pulling him flush against me. He didn’t fight the way I guided his arm over my shoulders, legs staggering almost uselessly beneath him as I slowly hauled him upright. Now robbed of that veneer of wrath, he couldn’t mask the depth of a fear that haunted him as he tottered on the very fringes of consciousness, his lithe body draped almost limply over mine, muscles jerking in nervous flinches at even the familiar sounds of the Marauder’s base systems chiming around us, and I found myself desperately hoping he wouldn’t remember this; that he wouldn’t suffer beneath a shame he had no reason to feel for this moment of vulnerability and need as he clung to me during those few minutes it took to stagger to the back of the ship.

The instant I gave the slightest indication for him to lay down, he readily collapsed, body fell heavily against me. I barely managed to guide him into the cot without dropping him. He didn't waste even what minimal effort it would take to reposition himself before fading into whatever empty sleep could be found in the wake of the fresh surge of meds I quickly pressed into his neck.

Getting Hunter to the medbay was no less complicated. Between his preexisting injuries and the damage I’d inflicted in trying to restart his heart, I couldn’t risk carrying him. Much to the girl’s humor, I ended up carefully sliding a blanket beneath him to drag him through the ship. The effort, however, was well worth the relief gleaned from finally seeing them both resting safely atop thin cots, chests rising in tandem beneath the intoxicating cocktail of drugs and blood loss.

I could only guess toward how long it might take for them to wake. I'd allotted myself more time than was necessary to finish removing their armor, had quickly moved back through the ship to retrieve what bits lay scattered in the cabin to stack it neatly atop the counters, and neither man had yet begun to stir.

In truth, I felt no rush for Hunter to wake, though part of me wouldn’t be able to relax until those intense, calculating eyes opened once more. I didn’t care if he looked at me with anger or indifference or love, so long as he looked at me. And Crosshair… I’d need to replace the damn battery in my scanner from how frequently I was rechecking him; recording and comparing every step of progress in his healing for some indication of whether or not there’d be permanent damage, for some idea of how to answer the inevitable questions he was sure to have when he was alert enough to ask. It likely wouldn’t be long… maybe another hour? Maybe mere minutes… My heart twisted at the thought of trying to force him to leave the thick bandages around his eyes, to force him to continue suffering in that darkness…

I had yet to disconnect the monitor from Hunter, nor could I ignore how frequently my gaze returned to the small screen if only for some tangible proof that his heart was still beating. Both of his arms were attached to fresh IVs rich in medicines and vitamins that I could only hope would be enough to control the bleed still slowly trying to refill his chest cavity and draining from the small port in his side. He was stable… but that was such a delicate balance…

Half a klick… He’d carried Crosshair for nearly half a klick… Of course he’d begun bleeding out again… I’d told him how dangerous physical activity was… but… kriff, what other option had I left for him? He was the only one close enough to provide backup in time… if I’d stayed behind… if I hadn’t intervened… Crosshair wouldn’t have had to wait so long to have his eyes cared for… and Hunter wouldn’t have had to carry him… Maybe something would’ve happened in the field like I’d originally feared, but… even then, he wouldn’t have had to wait on the damn ramp of the Marauder for Force knows how long… He would have had his brothers right there to help him immediately…

My chest jerked with something between a sob and a gasp as the medbay door opened behind me, and I couldn’t bring myself to even try to fight back the depth of guilt and regret and grief upon turning to find Echo, stride freezing the instant he met my eyes. He waited only until my shoulders jerked with another jilted breath before throwing himself toward me, and I instantly reacted in kind, darting forward to bury myself in his embrace.

“It’s my fault!” I hadn’t meant for the words to come out. “I almost got them killed!” His arms locked so tightly around me, I almost couldn’t find air to give voice to the sudden outpour of emotion, and yet I found myself silently begging him to hold me tighter. “This is my fault!”

“No… mesh’la, that’s not true, and you know that.” He pressed in something torn between a gentle murmur and a reprimand, and I shivered slightly at the heat of his breath dancing through my hair.

“I don’t know a damn thing about strategy! And I forced Hunter’s hand, and he…” The words died in a hiccupped gasp, and I pressed myself hard against his chest, finding an odd comfort in the familiar ridges of metal lining his torso.

“Sushir, cyare – listen.” He carefully lowered himself onto a knee, something about the movement seemed odd, but the tenderness of his hand against my cheek pulled my attention back to the soft gold of his eyes. “If you’d stayed here, both you and Crosshair would have been killed.” I couldn’t help but hesitate at that, confusion pulling my brows together, forcing my still choppy breath to quiet that I might better hear him.

“This place was run by a type of strategy droid.” He explained in a mediated calm that quickly robbed me of my panic. “It knew a sniper took out the defenses of the black site. Bringing the senator here, letting us track them – that was all a trap because the karking droid wanted revenge.” It took a long moment for me to truly process his words, body going still as I looked at him with wide eyes. “There’s an entire platoon of dead droids out there from Hunter. If you’d tried to get to Cross on your own, you never would have made it.”

“Tech’s never going to let us forget this.” I don’t know where I managed to find enough humor for even that quick huff, but the quiet, relieved laughter that caught on Echo’s lips left my heart jumping so sharply amidst a pleasant burst of static that, if only for a moment, I was stunned, but, when a weak groan sounded behind me, all thought toward that feeling or the mission or even the rationale behind my guilt was forgotten, attention whipping around to see Crosshair’s leg shifting atop the mattress in a stiff, unsteady motion, fingers twitching against the thin sheet beneath him.

“Kriff – Cross! Okay – alright, I know, I know.” The rushed words left in something just shy of a whisper, fighting to hide the lingering stiffness from my voice as I darted to the narrow space between the cots, hand belatedly reaching up to brush away the tears still staining my cheeks. His lips twitched into a weak scowl, head shifting listlessly to the side before managing a more pointed jerk.

“No, no, no.” I quickly reached out to catch his hand in mine as he began reaching for the bandages, and I wanted to sob anew at the way his chest bucked, entire body going taut. “Listen to me, Crosshair; you need to let them heal first, okay?” His fingers gradually tightened around mine until the entire limb shook, and I found myself wondering if he even realized he was doing it as I waited for the coming questions that I still couldn’t answer; the plea for some reassurance that he’d be okay, but several seconds passed and he didn’t say anything.

“Cross?” I called softly, unsettled by the deep stillness of him, the painfully even cadence of too-deep breaths flowing stiffly through lips now ground into a tight frown.

“… you’ve been crying…” He barely whispered it, and I had to swallow back the threat of that overwhelming emotion all over again, drawing a quick, shaky inhale that did little to keep my voice from breaking.

“It was just… a lot.” I answered as calmly as I could even as I had to blink away the burn of fresh tears flooding my eyes. “But I’m alright.” I dragged my thumb lightly along the edge of his palm.

“The others…” I worried over the tension in his short words, already calculating how soon I could increase his pain meds.

“Echo’s,” I glanced over my shoulder only to find the doorway now empty, and I felt a twinge of guilt at how I’d left him. “He was just here – pretty sure he was checking up on you two.” He suddenly froze, air catching in his throat, and realization dawned on me.

“…he’s… Hunter’s…” He’d been so out of it that I wasn’t sure if my earlier reassurances had reached him, and the guilt that stormed me at letting him think for even a moment longer that his brother was dead threatened to cripple me.

“He’s fine! He’s-he’s right here.” I stammered, scrambling back enough to pull Hunter’s arm across the narrow distance. “Here – feel that?” Movements almost rushed, I pressed Cross’s fingers to his brother’s wrist, and I found myself holding my breath as he felt the steady rhythm of Hunter’s pulse. Neither of us spoke, neither moved; granting that almost desperate relief the moment of reverie and wonder and exhaustion innate in those first few seconds of freedom from a grief that neither of us would have ever recovered from.

It was a subtle thing; the way he let that tension slip away, head just tilting back into the pillow with a barely-there sigh, but he made no effort to pull his hand back, and I could still see the faintest tremble in those long fingers.

“How long until this comes off?” His voice fell back into that familiar grumble so effortlessly; as though the last few minutes had never happened, and I barely managed to stifle the laugh into a breathy chuckle.

“A few days.” I answered quietly. “Maybe sooner depending on how quickly they heal.” He thought over my words for a moment before finally voicing the question I’d been waiting for since first dragging him into the medbay.

“Am I blind?”

“No.” It left my lips before he’d even finished asking, and I waited only a moment before explaining. “I… I don’t know… how well it’ll heal.” I hated how obviously I found myself tripping over my words, and took another breath before trying again, grateful that he hadn’t let himself lash out at the less than satisfying answer. “Your last scan still showed damage to your corneas, but it was already an improvement from before I cleaned and treated them. So, it’s safe to assume they’ll continue to improve.” I could see his forearm tense, but his hand remained unmoving for several more seconds before finally releasing Hunter’s wrist and shifting to drape almost lazily over his stomach.

Moments of silence were no stranger between us. I’d grown to love them, to thrill in the gentle comfort of his presence, the freedom from some need to force unwanted conversation, but there was nothing gentle in that resigned stillness, and I hated how desperate I sounded in my attempt to offer some taste of empty hope.

“I’ll continue scanning you regularly to monitor their progress, and even if there is scarring, there are more steps we can take.” I waited in some vain sense of denial for a sign that he believed me, but, when he offered no reply, I reached for him once more, fingers twining through his absent any further attempts to hide the sense of dread.

“I’m here, Cross… No matter what, I’m right here.” Several seconds passed in that same silence, but then his hand pulsed. It lasted only a second, but it was there, and when I moved to lay beside him atop the too-narrow cot, he didn’t hesitate, arm readily shifting to let me curl into him, my head resting lightly atop his chest. There was no remedy for this; the consuming dread of wretched unknowns that only time might bring to light, but, as long as he let me, I could make sure he didn’t suffer in it alone, and if I found my own comfort in the powerful thrum of his heartbeat dancing beneath my cheek, that was a selfishness I’d forgive myself for later.

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @eclec-tech @jennrosefx @echos-girlfriend @starqueensthings @manofworm @merkitty49 @idoubleswearimawriter @abigfanofstarwars @chopper-base @daftdarling222 @pb-jellybeans @bacta-the-future @rosechi @legalpadawan @drummergirl1701 @6oceansofmoons @dangraccoon @ji5hine @dathomiri-mudpuppy @mooncommlink @inneedoffanfics @totally-not-your-babe @delialeigh @callsign-denmark @blondie-bluue @ray-rook @iabrokengirl @arcsimper5 @rndmpeep @amorfista @flawsandgoodintent @passionofthesith @followthepurrgil @heidnspeak @roam-rs @foodmoneyandcats @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @9902sgirl @captainrex89 @waytoooldforthis78 @msmeredithrose @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @anythingandeveythingstarwars @littlefeatherr @thegreatpipster @melonmochii @totallyunidentified @mickeyp03 @hipwell @echos_pile_of_bones @leotawrites @Asgre_Thar @fruityfucker

28 notes · View notes