#bad batch finale spoilers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fanfoolishness · 7 months ago

Text

aftershocks

Massive spoilers for the finale. Wrecker and Crosshair whump, hurt/comfort, family feels, PTSD, angst. Wrecker POV. Wrecker struggles through the attack on Tantiss, but he'll always be there for his brother. 2200 words.

---

At first, Wrecker only had flashes. Everything blurred, a dizzying haze. The fight against the operatives, electricity arcing through his chest and hands, the wound to his chest raw and searing, his broken ribs shrieking, his muscles spasming as he strained against his assailant. Rising panic when he couldn’t place Hunter or Crosshair, but could only hear them — Hunter groaning somewhere in the wreckage, a sudden horrible noise that sounded like Crosshair but couldn’t be, he’d never heard him make a sound like that before —

Then he knew nothing until he felt restraints all around him, the claustrophobic confines of a cold metal chamber, and it began.

Pain of a kind he’d never imagined sparked through him, fire in his brain, a smothering, blanking terror. The taste of blood, a looming emptiness, his mind shrinking down to a pinpoint bright spot against the darkness. He couldn’t think — he couldn’t remember — they were here for Omega, but who was they, where were they, it was all being torn away —

Then the sudden gasp of freedom, relief from the agony, and he strained against his restraints. He remembered. They’d find her, they’d save her, they’d complete the mission or die trying. He roared, and plunged into the fight.

Flash. He blinked up at Echo in surprise, struggling to stay awake. He’d fought, hadn’t he? He’d won? But where had Echo come from? Echo asked where Hunter and Crosshair were — he wracked his brain, his head throbbing. He had seen them. He mumbled something to Echo, the answer a distant memory even though he knew he’d glimpsed them only a moment ago.

Flash. He was up on the ramp to the shuttle, Echo and another clone helping him up. He had no idea how he’d got there, but he staggered up with them to a seat, sinking into it heavily. Had they done it? Was it enough?

Wrecker shook his head, feeling the swoop in his stomach from takeoff. He blinked woozily, trying to make his good eye focus, but he needn’t have bothered. Familiar arms were around him, Omega’s wet hair soft against his cheek, and she whispered, “Wrecker, Wrecker, we made it. We all made it.”

”Oh, kid,” he choked, hugging her close with one arm. His eyes burned, tears trickling down his cheeks.

Two people collapsed onto the seats beside him, soaking wet and shivering. He lifted his head with difficulty and squinted, waiting for the blurring to pass, and looked from side to side to see Hunter and Crosshair. They slumped against him, panting, faces creased with pain — but they were alive.

“Good to see you, Wrecker,” Hunter coughed, grinning crookedly at him. “Knew they couldn’t keep you down.”

“Right back at ya,” Wrecker laughed, but groaned when his ribs cried out with the action. Omega hugged him more tightly than ever. Over her shoulder, Wrecker managed a watery grin at Crosshair. “We did it,” he said.

Crosshair nodded in exhaustion, and then Wrecker saw it, resting in his lap.

His hand. Oh, hell.

His heart dropped into his stomach. “Cross,” he managed.

Omega reached out, tears in her eyes, taking Crosshair’s left hand into her own. He gazed at her, a look of calm shifting over his face.

“It’s all right, Wrecker,” he said quietly. “Honest.”

Wrecker shifted, groaning with the movement, but he had to do this. He pulled Hunter and Crosshair into the hug with Omega, resting his head against Crosshair’s, and they stayed like that a long time.

---

AZI hovered nearby, looking pleased. “CT-9903, you should make a full recovery.” He listed a whole string of injuries — broken ribs, something called pneumothorax, concussion, chest laceration, most of which Wrecker could have told him. But he sat and let AZI fuss over him. The meds he’d given him were working, and he was able to breathe more freely, the searing in his chest down to a dull ache. Or one of many dull aches, but that was a helluva lot better than it had been on the shuttle ride back.

He got to his feet, the dizziness almost completely gone. He sighed. “Thanks, AZI. You’re a lifesaver.”

”Yes, that is my primary function!” AZI said cheerfully. Wrecker laughed a little -- wary of his ribs -- and went to go find the others.

He found himself under the great tree, beneath the warm and gentle sun, sitting with the others as they watched Echo take his leave. The wind blew, full of sweet smells of flowers and growing things; nothing like the smells of explosions, fire, blood. Wrecker breathed deep.

“We’re home,” he said.

”Yeah,” said Hunter. He smiled softly. “Yeah, I think so.”

Omega beamed over at him, her face creased with a sweet smile despite how bone-tired she looked. “So what do we do now?”

”Rest up,” said Hunter. “And then… whatever we want.”

Omega leaned against him, yawning. “That sounds good to me.”

---

Shep and Lyana’s place had never looked so good. They’d offered to stay over with friends while the brothers recovered, but promised they’d put something together for a more permanent home for them. Wrecker figured they’d worry about it tomorrow. For now, the exhaustion had finally caught up with him, and he was ready to crash.

Just had to get out of his armor first.

It took him longer than usual. Even with AZI’s meds and patching up, lifting his arms was difficult, and he winced as he slowly removed his pauldrons and cuirass. He hissed as the underlayer of his armor rubbed against the deep wound on his chest. Even after AZI had sealed it, it still throbbed, raw to the touch.

He held up the front plate of the chest piece, staring through the gouge marks clear to the wall on the other side. He was amazed it had held up as well as it had, but he knew it wouldn’t last another trip out into the field. “Trashed,” he mumbled.

Except there was nothing to replace it with.

Another problem for tomorrow.

He sat down for the rest, pulling off his greaves and cuisses one by one, piling them on Shep’s large comfortable bed. He kicked his boots off awkwardly, wrinkling his nose at the smells of sweat and blood. He needed a good run in the ‘fresher… later. Finally down to his torn blacks, he let out a long sigh.

That’s better.

There was a small sound at the doorway. He looked up and saw Crosshair wavering, leaning against the door. He’d gotten out of his leg armor, and the pauldron and gauntlet on the right, but still wore the other pieces. He gave Wrecker an abashed look, casting his eyes down.

“Wrecker, I —“

It hit him then. Crosshair couldn't get out of his armor on his own.

He should have remembered. Wrecker lurched back to his feet, finding a new burst of energy. “C’mere, Crosshair. It’s okay.” He held out one arm, beckoning Crosshair in. His brother limped in, keeping his missing hand tucked to the side as Wrecker ushered him to sit on the bed.

”I got as far as I could,” Crosshair said quietly. “But I couldn’t get the rest of it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.” Wrecker set to work on Crosshair’s armor, though the fasteners were a different model than the ones on his own armor. He’d never had reason to work with Crosshair’s kit before; it was rare for Crosshair to have gotten injured, and the few times he had, Tech had always been the one to take care of him. It took Wrecker a few extra minutes to work them, especially with his hands fumbling with fatigue.

But at least he still had both of his.

He paused, then helped Crosshair out of the cuirass, lifting the edges for him as Crosshair raised his arms over his head. Wrecker set it aside, and Crosshair sat bowed over himself, arms resting in his lap, breathing deeply.

Wrecker swallowed. ”How are ya?”

Crosshair took a moment. That alone was big. No I’m fine out of the gate. Wrecker waited, knowing it was easy to scare Crosshair off talking if he said too much.

”I don’t know,” Crosshair said at last.

They only had the left gauntlet remaining. Wrecker held out his hand, and Crosshair hesitantly placed his arm in Wrecker’s hands.

He worked in silence. Crosshair cleared his throat. “I can still feel my hand. But it doesn’t feel like… Not like before.”

”Phantom limb,” Wrecker said, removing the gauntlet. He got to work on the under armor layers. “Echo told me about it. Said it feels weird, sometimes. Does it hurt?”

”No. Not really.” He considered. “I’m not sure.”

“I bet we can find you something,” Wrecker said, trying to smile encouragingly at him. He wasn’t sure the right thing to say, but he hoped he could find it. “Heard they’re getting better with those things all the time. Might have to be black market, but who cares?”

Crosshair was quiet. “Maybe I’ll go without.”

Wrecker gave him a curious look, pulling off the padding on Crosshair’s forearm. “You’ll shoot without it?”

”Maybe I won’t shoot.” He took a deep breath, looking away.

Wrecker tried to imagine a world without Crosshair as their sniper, a world without battlefields, without thinking about backup and plans and contingencies and explosions. What would that even be?

He thought of Omega, running and laughing and playing in the sun. He could think of her without the battlefield. But him? Hunter? Crosshair? He froze up.

It was overwhelming.

It was unimaginable.

It was… He nodded to himself. It was something they’d have to figure out together.

Wrecker let out a long sigh. “Here, let me get this,” he said, tapping Crosshair on the chest pad. Crosshair nodded, raising his arms so Wrecker could remove the padding. There. That was the last of it.

Crosshair’s missing hand looked all the more glaring. Wrecker gazed at the cauterized wound at the end of Crosshair’s wrist, his chest heavy. “AZI cleared you? Said you’re all right?”

Crosshair nodded. “Or will be. Close enough. You?”

”Something like that.”

“Wrecker.” Crosshair closed his eyes, grimacing. “Back on Tantiss. I never wanted you and Hunter to… to have to.…“ He couldn’t speak for a moment. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He looked like he might be sick.

For a moment, Wrecker didn’t understand what he meant. Then —

Blinding flashes, pain sizzling through his brain, the mounting terror -- his memory blanking, vanishing, who was he -- an agony he’d never imagined --

Wrecker leaned in, his heart hammering, trying to catch Crosshair’s eye. “Cross?”

He didn’t answer. He stared past Wrecker, eyes fixed on something far away.

”That room,” Wrecker said haltingly. “Is that… is that where they took you? You’d been there before?”

Crosshair blinked, eyes bright, the muscles in his throat working. He managed a glance toward Wrecker, and nodded. Just slightly. Then he looked away, blinking rapidly.

Wrecker reeled. It was suddenly very, very hard to breathe.

Five months.

His brother had been there five months.

And Wrecker had been half out of his mind after an hour.

He didn’t think. All he could do was feel. He threw his arms around Crosshair, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder, fighting back a sob.

”You never told us —“ he gasped hoarsely. All this time, he’d known Crosshair had been imprisoned, he’d known Crosshair couldn’t talk about it, he’d seen his hand get worse and worse, but he’d never imagined that —

Crosshair sank against him, trembling all over like he was freezing to death. He shook in Wrecker’s arms. “It — it wouldn’t have changed anything,” he forced out, teeth chattering.

”’I’m sorry, Crosshair,” Wrecker said fiercely. “You didn’t deserve that. Nobody does.”

Crosshair just shivered against him, reaching up and pulling him closer. Wrecker held him, and he hoped, hoped, hoped it was enough.

---

He woke up at some point, sunset colors gauzy through the curtains. He was warm, drowsy, comfortable on the large bed. He reached out, and Crosshair was curled up beside him, snoring quietly, his face slack and relaxed. When had they fallen asleep? He couldn’t remember.

Wrecker blinked, rolling over to his other side, but Hunter was there in his blacks, fast asleep. Wrecker carefully propped himself up on his elbows, feeling something pressed against his legs, and found Omega curled up like a loth-cat in the last little sliver of space, Lula clasped tightly in her arms.

Wrecker shifted, finding a new position, and burrowed into the pillows. He blinked and saw Crosshair looking tiredly back at him.

Wrecker held his gaze. He asked a wordless question, raising his eyebrows. You okay?

Crosshair reached out, laying his hand on Wrecker’s shoulder and squeezing. A small, exhausted nod; an even smaller smile. Then he rolled onto his back, taking care to avoid nudging Omega, and closed his eyes, the lines in his face relaxing.

Wrecker breathed a grateful sigh.

He knew that just because he hadn’t lost anyone, didn’t mean they hadn’t lost something. He thought of Crosshair’s hand, Hunter’s limp, the carved-out line in his armor. They’d won. But he knew in his heart that this had been their last mission.

Questions about healing, and home, and life without a battlefield… he could worry about all of that tomorrow. They’d work it out, somehow; they always did. He listened to the gentle breathing of his family around him, and Wrecker closed his eyes again.

They’d earned a little rest.

#the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch finale #wrecker tbb #crosshair tbb #crosshair the bad batch #wrecker the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch spoilers #spoilers #bad batch finale spoilers #the bad batch finale spoilers #my batcher fic

63 notes · View notes