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This was, for all intents and purposes, a nightmare. Such missions were beneath them. The Bad Batch was the best of the best and to be sent out on such a simple assignment that even a gaggle of shinies could pull off was insulting. Hunter actually kind of didn’t care. When they had first read over the briefing his little brothers had loudly, bitterly complained. Echo, on the other hand, had been completely passive towards the assignment and his ambivalence kept Hunter from falling into the whirlwind of anger from his other brothers. So he accepted it as stupid and moved on, which is how they found themselves on some dumb jungle planet doing nothing of real consequence.
Wrecker was off in the distance, howling with glee. He had cheered up significantly. Low impact missions meant that he could have as much fun as he wanted blowing shit up. Plus they were on a jungle planet so there is a plethora of bright and colorful animals for him to make friends with, along with tasty fruits to eat straight off the vine and clear streams to go swimming in. As far as he was now concerned, this mission was the best. Wrecker continued to tear through the jungle, slamming into droids and chucking explosives of all shapes and sizes about. Did they need that big a distraction? No. Did anyone care? No.
Tech and Crosshair, however, were much less moved. The jungle was humid and noisy, busy and bright. At least Tech got to stay inside the ship. Crosshair was stuck guarding the Havoc Marauder against anything that would threaten his little brother’s work. The sniper continued to pace immediately outside the ship, staying in the shade and attempting to keep cool. He’d wanted to ditch his armor but had been strictly told no by both Hunter, kriffin’ big brothers, and Echo, which was dumb but Crosshair wasn’t about to start trouble with the Batch’s newest member just yet. Not while he was still healing and Hunter’s baby. Few things would get his head ripped off faster. Besides, even if he was kind of weird Echo was pretty nice for a reg. Crosshair didn’t hate him.
Gods it was hot, though. Crosshair did a quick visual sweep of the area before deciding it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he stepped over to the creek they had parked the ship by and grab a quick cool drink. Besides, it’s not like there was anything out here that could hurt him or Tech, anyway.
Up in the sky, Echo and Hunter surveyed the area below them. Jetpacks, Hunter decided, were the best thing that could have happened to him and he was glad Skywalker and Rex had gifted the Batch some extras the 501st had.
“D’ya see anything?” Echo shouted over to Hunter, before realizing he could probably hear him just fine over the roar of the jetpacks and wincing in apology. He waved it off.
“Nah. There’s nothing to see, ‘sides Wrecker having fun over there,” Hunter replied. “We’re just up here to give Tech and Crosshair some space.”
“Look!” Echo said, pointing down. “There’s Cross now. I wonder what he’s doing?”
“He better not be doing anything stupid if he knows what’s good for him. Probably just saw something and is going to take a look.”
“Didn’t think there’d be anything to see.”
Hunter grunted in affirmation. Just then, they both watched as Crosshair fell to the ground.
They jettison themselves to the ground, Wrecker crowing in the distance over a particularly choice boom. Tech crackles on over the comms informing everyone that he had successfully hacked the mainframe and the mission was a success. Hunter doesn’t stop. He pounds over to his little brother, heart hammering in his chest. It was just a heat stroke. It had to just be heat stroke. He could hear Echo in the distance taking charge, calling Wrecker back and ordering Tech to ready a sickbed. Not for the first time Hunter was glad Echo had ended up with his Bad Batch. Having an older brother was nice.
Finding Crosshair, Hunter paused. Embedded into one of the gaps in his armor was a snake, brown checkered marks writhing and wide, flat head embedded in his little brother. Hunter didn’t know what to do. The snake did, as the trooper it was attempting to eat was far too big for it and so it let go, pausing before slithering away.
"Bed’s all ready for ‘im and I’ve got fluids ready and waiting," Tech commed Hunter.
“It...it’s not that,” Hunter murmured out gruffly before bending down to scoop Crosshair into his arms.
"Then what is it, sir?" Echo’s clipped voice comes in next.
“Snake. I don’t know what kind.”
A shuffling is heard on the other end as Hunter books it to the ship. The next few hours are spent figuring out what snake it is and then panickedly attempting to administer antivenom that they didn’t have. Crosshair remained deathly silent. A fever was tearing through his system and something, either the viper’s venom or the various medicines they gave him, upset his stomach. Several times he almost choked to death on his own vomit until Wrecker had the idea to keep his head turned to the side to prevent that.
There was nothing to do but wait and hope.
All four remaining members refused to go to sleep, but only Echo succeeded in that mission. Wrecker was the first to fail, having cried himself into exhaustion. Tech was next, dropping off in the pilot’s seat as the stars whizzed past in a lullaby. Hunter took the longest, sitting next to Cross and holding his hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, watching the labored up and down of his chest. Echo had given him a cup of caf but he felt too ill to drink it, instead letting it’s bitter scent cloud the room and cover the lingering scent of vomit and antiseptic.
“He’s going to be mad when he wakes up,” Hunter whispered.
“You think?”
“He didn’t see the snake. Yeah, he’s gonna be mad.”
“That’s the point, you’re not supposed to see the snake. That’s why they look like that. Why they sit so still.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Those were the last words spoken that night. Hunter nodded off not too long after, his thumb slowing before his head drooped. Echo felt bad that as he sat there he couldn’t really see Crosshair, but instead every single brother he had lost before. He saw lots of Fives, injured but ok, him holding his hand and calling him stupid, begging him not to do such a thing again. Echo realized just how scary all of this was without Kix, or any other sort of medic at their side to help them. Echo wished he could give his brother a call and thank him, but Kix had gone MIA a little while ago and was likely dead. Figures.
When dawn broke over the Havoc Marauder Echo gently woke the others before retiring to his bunk. Hunter didn’t want to leave his little brother, but Wrecker had barreled into the room and he figured it would be best to let him have some alone time with their brother. Tech was organizing various medical supplies as the caf machine brewed a fresh pot. Hunter stared blankly at the pot as it slowly filled up. He could hear Wrecker in the sick room and judging by the look on Tech’s face he could as well. The machine beeped and he poured both of them a cup. Tech hummed in thanks before finishing whatever he was doing and heading off to try and help Cross, cup of caf left behind. Hunter stayed in the kitchenette and savored his.
In the sick room Crosshair was still sweating out his fever, the antivenom trying and failing to combat what was in his system. He let out a soft whine as Wrecker lifted him up so Tech could gently siphon medicine into his mouth. Both brothers cooed at their fallen sibling in an attempt to soothe him and make him open his mouth a bit wider, but it was to no avail. Cross couldn’t hear them and could only feel the loss of the soft bed beneath him. Eventually, though, all of the medicine was in him and the reward for all the painstaking work it took was a very generous spit up. Wrecker and Tech looked at eachother and sighed before Tech chugged Hunter’s old caf from last night and ripped the vomit stained blanket off of his brother. Crosshair shivered and whined. Wrecker scooped him into his lap, distraught at his brother’s pain.
“I wish I could call Kix and ask him what to do,” Echo sighed as he stepped into the room and took the blanket from Tech.
“Where’s Hunter?” Tech asked instead, in no mood to hear about Echo’s reg brothers.
“He’s resting. Lunch is ready, by the way,” Echo said.
“Not hungry,” Wrecker mumbled.
“Please, do try and eat something,” Echo said before he left to go put the soiled blanket in with the laundry. Tech took another look at his brothers before he sighed and left to go get something to eat.
The rest of the day passed largely without incident. It took a lot of pacing but eventually Hunter and Tech were able to get a small amount of broth into Crosshair without him immediately rejecting it. Echo sequestered himself away with the mission report, letting Hunter spend more time with the others. And again Hunter was grateful. Wrecker spent the night half curled up around Cross and Tech, despite resenting Echo for his cool attitude and various reg connections in this time of crisis, spent the night worrying away in Echo’s room for comfort. Hunter tried to sleep but found it very difficult.
Midmorning the next day Crosshair’s fever broke. They could all breathe a collective sigh of relief that whatever panicked mix of medicines Tech had given to Cross before he started rejecting all of them had worked well enough that it looked like he would be ok. He still slept most of the day and was very uninterested in both medicine and broth. But everyone would take it over what had come before.
True to form, however, he was quite cross. Despite being completely wiped out and exhausted Crosshair was furious that he missed the snake, no matter how many times Echo and Tech tried to explain that it was ok and those sorts of vipers were evolved to be missed like that. It didn’t matter. Not in the long run, anyway. As Tech tucked Crosshair into bed that night and the others all gathered for one quiet moment of collective relief they all knew that everything would be alright. They hadn’t lost their brother. Not yet, not ever. It would be a long road to recovery and Cross would pitch a fit the entire ride over to Coruscant and then raise absolute hell once in the hands of actual medics. But god damn it, he lived. Things very easily could have gone the other way. He’s alive. They’re alive.
That’s all that mattered.