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fanfoolishness · 8 months ago

Text

the mess you left behind

Tech called Plan 99. But Wrecker's still here. Wrecker tries to navigate new grief, but he can't do it alone. Wrecker POV, Wrecker & Hunter, angst, grief, family feels, a little bit of hope. 3500 words.

-----

Something was wrong with him. He was sure of it.

It started with the food. At first, Wrecker thought the ration bars must have gone off. They’d been loaded in the Marauder for months, maybe they’d just expired. They crumbled in his mouth like ash, utterly flavorless, dry chalky stuff. It was hard to swallow them, like his mouth had forgotten how to make saliva. He choked them down and only ate three instead of his usual six on their way back from Ord Mantell.

But the food back on Pabu didn’t taste any better. Shep and Lyana made them dinner that first night back, their faces shocked and sad. Lyana brought out a tray of rockfish rolls and then ran back into the house, burying her face in her hands. Shep stayed out with them, took them each by the shoulder, told them he was so sorry. Hunter just nodded. Echo looked away. And Wrecker tried to smile but found his face didn’t work like that anymore.

He still tried to eat. They’d gone to so much trouble, making all this food for them. But his stomach turned, and he managed only a few bites before he shoved the food away and stared at the meal until it blurred.

It wasn’t just the food. His tongue felt like sand, no matter how much water he drank. Though sometimes he’d forget to drink any for hours, and realize only when he tried to talk, his voice coming out dry and cracked. He’d drink water until he felt he couldn’t bear to drink anymore, and his tongue would still stick to the roof of his mouth.

He thought sleeping might help. At least it’d be a break from Echo and Hunter scrolling endlessly through comms and intel, stuff he couldn’t help with anyway, focusing on that instead of anyone saying how much easier this would be if Tech was here. He tried not to think about that, too. Not that it made any difference.

Sleeping didn’t work any better. He lay there long into the night, listening to Hunter’s breathing, Echo’s typing, Gonky’s soft little night-gonks. If he closed his eyes, he could see him --

There is no time, Wrecker!

Tech dangling helplessly, Wrecker’s arms straining against the railcar, his heart pounding in his chest, there had to be a way, there had to be --

Plan Ninety-nine.

No. NO. Not the one plan he’d never forgotten, the one plan he’d always thought he’d be the one to carry out if it came to it, the one plan he’d never wanted to hear any of his brothers call --

Don’t you do it, Tech --

And he’d open his eyes with a gasp, panting, tears damp on his face. Okay. So sleeping wasn’t an option, either.

-----

The days blurred together. He wasn’t sure how to count them. They slid past, one after the other, all of them horribly the same. Beautiful weather. Birds singing. Waves on the shore.

No leads on Omega, just an empty room and endless dead ends.

Tech’s goggles, broken and awful and so confusing.

He tried holding them once, when Echo and Hunter had left the ship. They were so small in his shaking hands. He realized he’d never actually touched them before. Tech had always kept them in such good condition, and the strap had always kept them in place even when he’d taken hits and needed patching up. They’d been as much a part of him as Hunter’s tattoo.

So how could Wrecker be holding them now? It didn’t make any damn sense. Goggles. Tech. They were supposed to be together.

He half-thought he’d glance up and see Tech in the pilot’s chair, leaning in with a squint and an annoyed, “Wrecker, give those back.” Maybe all of it had been some massive mistake. Maybe Tech was injured, but alive. Maybe he’d come back --

The pilot’s seat sat empty. And Wrecker bowed over the goggles in his hands and cried.

-----

Echo left. Wrecker had been wondering how long it would take. Said Rex might be able to help him track down leads on Tantiss and how to find Omega.

Wrecker knew it made sense. But he also wondered how much of it was that Echo didn’t want to be here, where Tech’s ghost haunted the Marauder, where the ship seemed so empty without Omega’s laughter, where Hunter was grim and quiet and Wrecker was just… whatever he was.

“I’ll keep you posted. Anything I can find, I’ll be here in a heartbeat,” Echo said. “We’ll find her. I know it.”

“We’ll contact you right away if we find anything,” said Hunter, his voice rough. “We won’t stop until we do.” He clapped Echo on the shoulder and walked away, staring off into the horizon.

Wrecker didn’t have anything to say. He just drew Echo into a bonecrushing hug. Echo hugged him back just as fiercely.

“It’ll get easier,” Echo said quietly into Wrecker’s ear. “Eventually.”

Wrecker closed his eyes. Echo had told him about Fives, Hevy, Droidbait, Cutup. He knew. He’d lived it before.

Now he was having to live it again.

“Hope you’re right,” Wrecker whispered. “‘Cause I -- I don’t know how to do this.”

Echo sighed. “No one ever does.”

-----

AZI checked on them both regularly. He told Wrecker cheerfully one day that his neck had fully recovered and he was clear to resume his normal activity. “However, there is something else,” AZI said.

“Yeah?”

“You have lost five kilos and are slightly underconditioned for your typical height and mass. Your exam also shows evidence that you have been sleeping poorly and may be experiencing erratic moods. This is one of many typical grieving responses in humans,” AZI said. “Perhaps you would like to discuss your emotions.”

Huh. So all of it came back to Tech, then.

“I thought… I thought if you lose someone, you’re just sad,” Wrecker admitted. “Never really had to do this before.”

It wasn’t quite true. He’d missed Crosshair -- sometimes badly, especially those early days out on their own -- but it had all been tangled up in confusion, anger, frustration, not knowing where the chip ended and where his brother began. And there’d always been hope, a thin small thread, that someday Crosshair would realize he’d been wrong and he’d come back to them. That they would be together again.

Of course, that was a hope that no longer made any sense. They’d never all be together again now.

“Grief is a complex emotional and physical response,” AZI explained. “It may affect sleeping and appetite, and it may include anger, sadness, denial, and acceptance. It is a process that is never fully completed, but time does appear to contribute greatly to healing.”

“Well, can’t make time go any faster.” Wrecker sighed, rubbing his face. “How else do I fix it?”

“Talking about the subject of one’s grief can be a great help. I am happy to listen to any stories you may wish to share about CT-9902. You may also wish to speak to CT-9901.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wrecker muttered. He looked up at the droid tiredly. “Maybe another time, AZI. Thanks.”

Talking to Hunter did feel like it might help. Except that Hunter was avoiding him.

Wrecker hadn’t been sure about it at first. He’d wake up in the morning after his jagged, stretched-thin sleep and find Hunter already at the comms. “Morning,” he’d say, and Hunter would wave a hand vaguely in his direction, grunt, and keep his eyes on the screen. He’s focused. I get it. I want her back just as much as he does.

But Hunter started skipping meals. Wrecker would go for dinner with Shep and Lyana, only for Lyana to say “Hunter got food earlier. He didn’t tell you?”

Wrecker sat alone with them, struggling for something to say that wasn’t Sorry we lost your best friend or Want to hear a story about my dead brother? Shep would usually fill the silence with something light, talk about the rebuilding efforts or stories about the day’s events, and Wrecker would listen gratefully. When he went back to the ship, he’d find Hunter already asleep or right back at the comms, eyes fixed on the screens.

He finally tried, one night. Came back to the Marauder with a cup of black caf, Hunter’s favorite. Spotted him sitting in the co-pilot’s chair -- never in Tech’s seat -- staring at a datapad.

“Brought you something,” he said, raising the caf. Hunter glanced at it for a second, then retreated back to whatever he was reading.

Wrecker set the caf down by Hunter’s arm and leaned over the back of Tech’s chair. He didn’t want to sit in it, either. He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze off Hunter, except that meant he glimpsed Lula all alone in Omega’s room. He turned the other way, and there were Tech’s goggles, shattered on the dash. He sighed, settling for looking out the viewshield.

“So.”

“...so.”

“Can we… talk?” Wrecker asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hunter lifted his head, looking up at him, waiting. This close, Wrecker could see the shadows under his eyes, the days’ growth of stubble, the headband rumpled and askew.

“About Tech.”

Hunter swallowed, looking away. “He’s gone, Wrecker.”

“I know that,” Wrecker said, an edge of irritation in his voice. Come on. He was trying here. “It’s just -- it’s hard. Maybe it’s not as hard if we talk about him, you know?” He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

Hunter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Talking about him won’t bring him back,” he said heavily. “It’s… better to look forward. Put everything we have into finding Omega.”

Wrecker growled, anger flashing bright and sudden in his mind. His hand curled into a fist, just for a second, and everything that had been boiling under the surface since Eriadu came erupting up. “Don’t you think I want to find her, too? Of course I miss her. Of course we have to find her. And we will, Hunter, but I’m not gonna pretend she’s the only one we lost! Don’t you even miss him? He’s our brother!” His voice rose into a shout.

No -- this isn’t what I wanted -- But he couldn’t help himself.

“He was a soldier! Like we all are!” Hunter snapped, getting to his feet, his eyes narrowed. “He knew exactly what he was doing, and he made the only choice he could. Any of us would have done the same. Plan Ninety-Nine was always a possibility. We have to accept that!”

“I don’t want to!” Wrecker roared, his chest heaving. He shoved his brother back into his seat, and turned and fled out of the ship, the walls closing in, the air too thin to breathe. He broke into a jog as he hit the cool night air, and he let his legs take him as far away from the ship as he could get.

He finally stumbled to a stop an hour later, somewhere down by the water, the soft sound of the waves a stark contrast to his ragged breaths. He staggered out onto the sand, finding a rocky ridge up above the high water line. He sagged down to the ground and tried to catch his breath.

Eventually his breathing slowed. He leaned back against the rocks and stared up at the stars. The constellations swam and shimmered above him, splitting back and forth into two sets of starfields. He blinked and lowered his head to gaze off into the dark.

Why won’t he talk about him?

He folded his arms atop his knees, pressing his face into them, screwing his eyes shut. He sat like that for a long, long time, until his cheeks were wet, until his head throbbed. He listened to the waves, and he knew he’d lost something he could never get back.

-----

Seabirds, squawking somewhere out in the distance. A cool breeze on his face, warm sun on the back of his head. A hand on his shoulder.

“Wrecker.”

He opened his eyes, narrowing them against the bright morning light. He groaned. “What am I --” He looked around, realizing he was still on the beach. Oh, hell. The fight --

Hunter sat beside him on his good side, a basket of food and a thermos resting near him in the sand. He gave Wrecker a tired smile.

“Morning.”

Wrecker yawned, stretching, carefully avoiding looking at Hunter. “Guess you found me.”

“It wasn’t exactly hard,” said Hunter. He sighed, leaning back against the rocks, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Hm. Guess it wouldn’t be, for you.”

“Yeah.”

They both fell quiet, looking out at the water. A pack of moon-yos played at the water’s edge, scampering in the surf. They chittered cheerfully at each other, completely ignoring the two soldiers in the sand.

Wrecker swallowed. “Sorry, Hunter.”

Hunter took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too, Wrecker.”

“For what? I’m the one that flew off the handle.” His cheeks burned at the memory. He’d been trying to get Hunter to open up at him, and all he’d done was get angry at him and run off. Some conversation that had been. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we just need to move on.”

Hunter shook his head. “No, you were right. Ignoring it… isn’t helping.”

Wrecker looked at him in surprise, his chest aching at Hunter’s words. Huh. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Hunter had fallen silent again, but looked like he was struggling to figure out what to say. This close, Wrecker could see his brother’s eyes were red and puffy. Had he even slept since their fight?

“You okay?” Wrecker asked.

“No.” Hunter tried giving him a smile, but his mouth twisted up all wrong. At last he managed to get a few more words out, but they were halting, nothing like his usual direct, confident way of talking. “I… I thought that if I could just focus on Omega… then I could… stop thinking about Tech. That’s why I didn’t want to talk about him.”

“You do think about him?” Wrecker asked hopefully.

“Of course I do,” said Hunter. He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Every time I sit in that damn cockpit, I look over and I --” He closed his eyes, a muscle going in his cheek. “It’s too hard to think about him. So I kept trying to move on, tried to focus on something I could fix. I know I can’t bring him back, and I hate it, Wrecker. We couldn’t save Crosshair. We lost Omega. Echo’s moved on, and Tech…”

“I should have saved him,” Wrecker bit out. “I was there. Maybe if I’d tried something different, I could have got to him. I could have hauled him up, I know I could have. But the railcar -- I couldn’t figure out how to get to him --”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” said Hunter sharply. “That’s an order. If anyone could have seen another way out of it, it was Tech. You didn’t have any other options.”

Wrecker’s leg shook, boot jittering in the sand. Arms straining, trying to hold the second railcar back, he just had to keep it steady so Tech could climb up -- there had to be time, he had to make it --

Tech’s hand raising his blaster, Wrecker’s heart stuttering in his chest, no, no, this wasn’t happening --

When have we ever followed orders?

“Wrecker. Wrecker, hey.” Hunter’s hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Wrecker scrubbed at his eyes with his fingertips, shoulders heaving.

“Damn it, Tech,” he croaked. He broke into a rough chuckle, but it was dangerously close to a sob, and he stifled himself. “Look at this mess you made.”

“Well, he always was messy,” Hunter said slowly. “All that tinkering of his… the way he said he always had a system.” He smiled a little at the memory, though his eyes were redder than ever.

“Ha. I have a system for my stuff, too. Remember what he’d used to say? Something like this?” Wrecker pitched his voice higher, tried to adjust for Tech’s accent. It was a terrible impression, but he was doing his best with it. “‘Wrecker, my chaos is confined to my own living space. Yours is a tripping hazard for everyone in the vicinity. There is a difference.’”

He snorted, remembering Tech’s indignation when Wrecker had made a joke about the two of them being the messy ones. Hunter had laughed fondly at both of them, Crosshair had rolled his eyes, and Wrecker had just laughed and said “Yeah, you keep telling yourself it’s a system!”

Wrecker stopped, a realization coming over him. He’d just laughed. He shook his head, surprised. Was he even allowed to do that right now?

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m all mixed up.” He shifted, grabbing a handful of sand and watching it pour from his palm, grain by grain. “I can’t… I can’t believe we’re never gonna see Tech again.”

“I know.”

“And I’m mad at him. He’s gone, and we didn’t even complete the mission. It didn’t mean anything. How could we lose him on this? How could he do this to us?” He closed his trembling fist, sand pouring out even faster.

“I know.”

“And I -- I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Me, can’t eat.” Wrecker dropped his hand, let it fall open. “Am I gonna feel like this forever?” he asked, voice going quiet. “Echo said it gets better. But I can’t see it.”

Hunter leaned against him, their shoulders touching. Wrecker raised his arm, settling it around Hunter in a loose hug. It was the first they’d shared in… a long time. Too long.

“I don’t know if it gets better,” Hunter admitted. “I’ve never done this before, either. But… I think you’re right.”

“Me? About what?”

“Maybe talking about him is exactly what we need to do.”

-----

The sun had risen high above them, wheeling toward the noontime hour, when they fell silent again. They’d been talking the whole time. Sometimes about the scary stuff -- turned out Wrecker wasn’t the only one struggling with flashbacks and nightmares -- sometimes about the weird stuff -- Hunter admitted he kept blanking out for minutes a time, and it was taking him twice as long as usual to get through reading anything -- sometimes about good stuff, like stories about old missions where Tech had pulled off the impossible and really shone.

They were so proud of him.

They always would be.

They’d managed, somehow, to laugh a few times. Wrecker had cried three times and Hunter had cried once. Now Hunter looked just as exhausted as Wrecker felt, but in a good way, like they’d both come through something. Together.

Wrecker yawned, leaning back against the rock, hands behind his head. “Hey, didn’t you bring something down here with you?”

“Oh yeah. Peace offering,” said Hunter, rummaging in the bag at his feet. He pulled out a thermos and a sturdy box made out of some of the large shiny leaves on the island. “Got some pastries at the market square and brought down some caf. Figured it was the least I could do. You hungry?”

Wrecker thought about it, and surprised, said, “Yeah, I think so. What you got in there?”

“I just asked for the variety box.” Hunter opened the box, and sweet scents of fruit, vanilla and pastry wafted out. His face fell.

“What’s wrong?” Wrecker asked. “Smells great.”

Hunter lifted up a delicate pastry curled into a horn shape, stuffed with fresh custard. Wrecker recognized it instantly. Tech’s favorite.

The skill necessary to create the overarching layers of pastry is remarkable. Preserving the architecture of the pastry while also suffusing it with custard is ingenious --

Hunter gave him a half-smile. “Want to split it?”

“Sure.” Wrecker reached out, and they tore the custard horn into roughly equal halves. Wrecker held his up to his face, catching its sweet scent. His stomach rumbled. He nudged his pastry into Hunter’s and said, “To Tech.”

“To Tech.”

He took a bite, expecting it to taste like sawdust like everything else had been lately. But it didn’t.

He tasted butter, vanilla, sugar, egg, flour. He tasted layers of flaky, golden pastry with a cloud-like center, vanishing sweetly within his mouth. He tasted comfort. He tasted home.

Wrecker finished his pastry, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. “That’s… that’s really good.” He reached out, taking the thermos, opening it up and taking a drink of hot caf. It was bold and rich, bracing without being bitter. He glanced at Hunter. “...you got any more pastries in there?”

Hunter laughed, passing him the box. “Thought you’d never ask.”

They finished off the box beneath the noon sun, watching the moon-yos play and scamper in the waves. And something shifted in Wrecker’s chest, clicking into place; not a question of if they would get through this, but a realization that they would. He had a feeling it was still going to be mixed up, and awful, and wrong, for a long time. Maybe always.

But he wouldn’t be going through it alone, and maybe that was all he needed, at least for now.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #wrecker the bad batch #wrecker tbb #wrecker bad batch #wrecker #tbb wrecker #the bad batch wrecker #hunter the bad batch #hunter bad batch #plan 99 #my batcher fic #grief #sibling grief #because it feels like none of TBB writers have ever lost a sibling #and i'm here to show them how it's done #yes this is personal #and i hope it helps anyone else who has lost a sibling feel a little bit seen <3

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