Work Text:
"...hair!"
"...ros…"
"... dead?"
"Cross…"
"Think so…"
"Cross!"
Metal thuds, synthetic voices and the sharp buzzing of his head - as well as the constant static hiss of his comms - pulled Crosshair out of the swamp that was his unconscious. His eyes opened sluggishly as his brain tried to register exactly where he was, though he knew that the darkness surrounding his vision came from his helmet. An initial scan with his eyes revealed that his helmet's sensors were damaged, rendering his visor useless as well as his helmet.
Crosshair had no recollection of where he was, nor was his body responding to his silent requests to move. Instead, as if by some cruel fate of hand, a tingling pain shot up from his chest. The sniper felt a weak hiss escape from his mouth as another lance of fire stabbed up from his chest. Thankfully for Crosshair, the synthesizers in his helmet were as useless as his visor, so the hiss of pain echoed solely within his helmet.
Which, as his hearing finally caught up with his sight - as compromised as that was by his damaged helmet -, Crosshair realized he was surrounded. He could hear the creak of hydraulics and pistons, as well as the cold, synthetic voices of battle droids. Though Crosshair spent most of his time as far from the main force of fighting, he could recognize a battle droid's voice instantly.
And these battle droids were directly beside him. His position had been severely compromised, and he couldn't even recall why. All he knew was that his chest was shooting fire through his body, and that his ability to breathe was poor at best.
Where were his brothers? How had the battle droids found him? What were they doing hovering over him? And what were the battle droids planning?
Crosshair's heart raced in his chest, far too loudly in his opinion, as his mind swirled with probabilities and possibilities. A faint crackle of his helmet's comms echoed with one of his brother's voices, though he could not pinpoint exactly who it was because of the rushing sound that had laid upon his eardrums. He couldn't hear much over his heartbeat roaring in his ears, even though he needed to.
Frustration edged into Crosshair as each breath his body ordered him to take only punished him further, the pain in his chest increasing to a molten river at each shallow inhale of breath. Each breath made Crosshair desperate to clench his hands into fists, to divert his pain elsewhere as he dug his fingers into his palms, but he knew any movement would alert the battle droids standing over him. So it was with the battle droids in mind that Crosshair took one slow inhale, then forced his heart to stop racing.
His years of training on Kamino as a sniper had afforded Crosshair the ability to lower his heart rate, a tactic he found useful not just in battle, but in hiding his emotions from Hunter. His sergeant and older brother was prone to using the sound of his brothers' heartbeats to judge their emotions, a tactic Crosshair had not known about when he'd first joined Experimental Unit 99. He'd only learned of Hunter's ability to judge his emotions off his heartbeat after Crosshair had made a mistake in a training mission, then had been duly punished for it.
His back and ribs and thighs had ached as Crosshair limped into his squad's barracks, the memories of his personal trainer's harsh beatings far too fresh in his mind for the sniper to accurately prepare himself for Hunter. All Crosshair had wanted was to lay in his bunk and rest after his punishment and rerun of the exact same course, but Hunter hadn't allowed him too. Hunter had appeared out of nowhere, hovering over Crosshair's bunk with a worried expression, before he'd climbed on top of Crosshair's covers then cuddled him.
Crosshair had attempted to shove Hunter off his bunk with his sore arms, only for Hunter to hold Crosshair tighter. Hunter had then asked the sniper about his day, all while Hunter had his head rested purposefully over Crosshair's heart. His brother had not moved until Crosshair's heart had settled to a normal, relaxed pace, and even then Hunter was notably reluctant to leave. Eventually, though, Hunter wished Crosshair a goodnight, then had left to his own bunk.
Afterwards, Crosshair's suspicions towards Hunter and what his enhancements were became a center focus of the sniper - almost as much as his training was. It had taken some prodding of Wrecker to learn that Hunter could, quite practically, hear, smell and taste the emotions of those around him. Crosshair had been none too thrilled when he realized what his sergeant had been hiding from him, for he hated having someone know his emotions before even Crosshair could.
So, to spite Hunter and to protect himself, Crosshair had honed his breathing and the beating of his heart until he could keep it steady - or even lower it to the point machines would read no heartbeat -, even when Crosshair's emotions were practically eating him alive. Hunter had noticed the change in Crosshair but had never questioned him on it, nor had Hunter complained, an allowance that Hunter afforded Crosshair. And, by affording Crosshair his privacy, Hunter had earned Crosshair's trust and undying loyalty.
Now, what had once been a petty maneuvering for power against his sergeant, was the only way Crosshair knew he would survive. Though he had not often been downed by battle droids, he had seen enough clones shot point blank by battle droid scouts to know the droids standing over him would not hesitate to end his life. Droids held no care for the laws of war, least of all those revolving around the injured, which Crosshair hated to admit he was.
An injury left him exposed and vulnerable, everything a sniper wasn't supposed to be. Crosshair was supposed to be crouched in a prone position in one of the large trees that composed the entirety of Xendek, his Firepuncher nestled between two branches while he scouted for approaching enemies to his brothers' location eight clicks away. Crosshair wasn't supposed to be laid out on the ground, on his back, with an obvious chest injury. The sniper's purpose was to be observing from a distance, hidden from his enemies as well as his squad. Not… not to be stuck, flat out on his back.
Force damn it, he hadn't even made his routine check in with Hunter, had he?
"I think it's dead."
Crosshair felt his body stiffen involuntarily at the droid's voice, though he had enough control over his aching body to prevent any visible change in his posture. If the droids believed he was dead, then he was safe. He had to look and feel dead, otherwise the droids would turn their blasters on Crosshair without hesitation. His training kicked through his body's unwillingness, settling his limbs and heart until he could barely feel air leaving his lungs, and could not even hear his heart in his ears.
"Are you certain?"
Crosshair felt the foot of one droid press into his left shoulder before the droid used its foot to roll Crosshair onto his right side. The moment Crosshair felt the droid roll him onto his side, what had once been unbearable pain from his injury became agonizing. Crosshair bit his tongue as a scream built within his lungs, the taste of copper all he could use to hold back the scream that would give himself away to the droids. He had to be strong.
For his brothers.
"It's dead. It was dead when we found it laying on its chestplate." The droid's voice was distant as Crosshair felt the metal foot lower his back flush to the ground once more.
"Good. Stupid clone."
Crosshair bared his teeth in an involuntary, soundless snarl at the droid's insult, though he knew protesting was stupid. One set of metallic feet trudged away, leaving Crosshair with one droid. One droid. He only needed to hold out long enough for-
Pain splintered through his head as the remaining droid suddenly slammed the stock of its rifle against his helmeted head, churning his vision as a breath of pain escaped from Crosshair. The droid let out a sneer as Crosshair's conscious swam, then the heavy thud of metallic feet trudged away from his position.
The droids were… gone…
"...sha…"
Static interrupted his brother's voice over the comms, even as Crosshair weakly attempted to raise contact with his squad. Crosshair fished weakly for his communicator with his left hand, only for the movement to pull at his chest and force his arm to slam to the ground painfully. Tears bit at the corners of Crosshair's eyes as he ground his teeth together, holding back the scream his body demanded him to release.
Wherever Hunter, Wrecker and Tech were, Crosshair knew they were too far to have noticed his compromised position, even with his spray of cover fire removed from the fight. His brothers were busy destroying the heavy water facility, they wouldn't be able to reach his side in time. Not that Crosshair could blame them. His brothers would always come back for him. Always. They loved him… especially Tech…
His little brother…
Crosshair felt a brief smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he thought about Tech frantically searching for him, his little brother's voice a calm facade as he screamed Crosshair's name over and over. Tech would never forgive Crosshair for allowing himself to be hurt, least of all with a chest injury. Tech had lectured Crosshair constantly about safe descents from his roosts, both in training and on the battlefield, Tech's eyes narrowed slightly as he glared up at Crosshair. The technician had a surprising amount of fire within him when he needed it and, though Crosshair saw that fire used most often against their enemies, he had faced the sting of Tech's fire more than once.
Tech would be terrified if he found Crosshair in this state. Wrecker would panic as well, but he was quite useful at holding pressure on injuries. Hunter… Hunter would be able to ascertain every single injury Crosshair had suffered, including any internal bleeding. His brothers were going to kill him when they found him, if the droids didn't take another sweep of his position and found Crosshair alive. He had to keep his heartbeat steady, in case the droids returned… The sniper couldn't afford to let his guard down.
As Crosshair's mind started to slip into the mire of unconsciousness, every ounce of energy he had left went into stilling his heartbeat. He felt his heart slam as Crosshair forced it into a state of near death, the sound of his heartbeat fading with his consciousness.
Tech was panicking.
Crosshair could see the rigid set of his brother's shoulders as the flight simulator continued to blare at Tech, the cold, calm voice repeating the same words over and over.
"Stall."
"Stall."
"Stall."
Tech was fighting the controls, his head snapping back and forth over the flight simulator's controls. Crosshair leaned forward in the trainer's seat - located behind the pilot's seat, where the radar intercept officer would sit in standard issue fighter ships -, his gaze shifting with every movement Tech made. Tech had been deeply upset after failing the required stall recovery certification process for his pilot's license, though it had taken Crosshair hours to coax the truth out of his little brother.
When Tech had finally admitted, with his head buried against Crosshair's chest, that the flight simulator was too much all at once, Crosshair knew he'd have to help. The Kaminoans would never give Tech the patience he needed to overcome his anxiety over failure, and would scorn Tech for panicking in the flight simulator at the clash of noise, color and terror the sniper knew Tech had felt. The Kaminoans would rather make Tech adjust through punishments and beatings, instead of the steady, easy hand Tech needed to improve.
Crosshair had never once used a flight simulator, but he had not hesitated in taking Tech's hand late in the middle of the night to lead Tech back to the flight simulators that had left his brother in such a state of distress. It had taken almost thirty minutes for Crosshair to convince Tech to actually step into the pilot's seat of the exact flight simulator Tech had failed his test in, then even longer for Crosshair to convince his little brother to start the simulation.
Tech was already nervous when the simulator started, until he realized that Crosshair had chosen a simpler simulation - dogfighting - first. Crosshair had watched quietly from the backseat as Tech fought through the dogfighting simulation with ease, only taking a single grazing shot once. Tech had turned a bright smile towards Crosshair as the dogfighting simulation shot off, a smile that Crosshair had rewarded with a gentle ruffling of Tech's soft hair.
Tech had laughed at the touch, until Crosshair had looked him in the eye, then looked towards the simulator. "Are you ready for the stall recovery simulation?" Crosshair had asked, aware the entire time of how quickly Tech's expression had fallen at the reminder.
"Ready," Tech had finally responded, though he had turned around to face the simulator's controls as he answered.
They had failed the first stall recovery simulation almost immediately, Tech's panicked movements only furthering the stall until the simulator had declared a fatal crash. Crosshair had been forced to place his right hand on Tech's shoulder, steadying Tech with his voice and touch until Tech had finally reactivated the simulation. Now they were five simulations in, and Tech was still panicking at the sudden loss of control.
His little brother was allowing everything to bother him at once, the fear of failure making Tech overcorrect and panic when his overcorrections forced the stall into an endless spiral. Crosshair let out a low breath before he leaned over the back of Tech's seat, whispered to Tech, then steadied his brother's tense shoulders. Crosshair felt Tech jolt as Crosshair's hands settled over Tech's shoulders, but Tech did not throw the sniper off.
"Tech, focus," Crosshair whispered as he shifted his left hand off of Tech's shoulder, then placed his hand over Tech's on the yoke. "What are the four basic steps out of a stall? Tell me, please."
"I- I do not remember!" Tech snapped as he continued to fight the controls, the annoying voice of the simulator echoing throughout the enclosed flight simulator. "I cannot focus enough to-"
"Tech. The four steps. That is all I need to hear."
"I told you, I cannot-"
Crosshair's heart ached as Tech began to panic, his little brother's hands slipping from the yoke as Tech dug his fingers into his scalp and let out a heaving sob. Tech curled into himself as he began to mutter weakly, his words too fast for even Crosshair to decipher. Hurt scythed through Crosshair as he watched his little brother hunch into himself, his focus entirely elsewhere as he continued muttering to himself.
This wasn't what Crosshair had wanted from his little brother, all he wanted was to help Tech-
"Stall. Stall. Stall. Stall-"
Crosshair glared at the simulation, then shut off the simulation so that he was greeted with darkness and only the sound of his breathing and Tech's anxious muttering. Carefully, Crosshair shifted in his seat until he was hovering over Tech, then shifted his right hand until the sniper rested his hand between Tech's shoulder blades.
Tech looked up at Crosshair with hurt evident in his golden brown eyes, a hurt that Crosshair wished he could take from Tech. He knew exactly where the hurt was from and wished Crosshair could find some method to protect Tech from his memories, as well as his former handler. For now, Crosshair had to rely on what he had at hand to help Tech, and damn him if he didn't fight for his little brother.
"How does a stall start, Tech?" Crosshair asked once Tech's breathing eased fractionally, his little brother's eyes narrowed as he absorbed Crosshair's question.
After a few moments, Tech began to explain the process of a stall, his eyes shifting to stare past Crosshair as he spoke. Crosshair watched as Tech slowly relaxed, his eyes shifting between Crosshair and the wall of the simulator before Tech finally released a sigh.
"I am prepared to try again, Crosshair," Tech admitted quietly, though Crosshair could tell Tech was fidgeting in his seat as he turned to face the controls.
Crosshair let out a concerned growl, then squeezed Tech's left shoulder with his right hand. "Walk me through the steps to recover from a stall first, alright?"
Tech took in a deep breath as he took the yoke in his hands, then whispered, "When a stall occurs, I must first pitch nose-down to decrease the angle of attack. Then I must reduce the bank by leveling the wings of the starship, and adding power to the engines. Following that I…"
Tech trailed off with a nervous stutter of breath before he picked at the yoke anxiously, his back hunching over as Tech slumped his shoulders into himself. Concern cut through Crosshair as he squeezed Tech's shoulder a second time, then flicked on the simulator.
"Let's practice the first step only," Crosshair explained as Tech straightened in his seat and let out a nervous sound as the flight simulator powered up. "Remember, Tech, pitch the nose down. That's all we need to focus on."
"Understood," Tech breathed as he took the yoke, straightened his back, then nodded.
Together, with Crosshair encouraging Tech, they worked the simulation until Tech could confidently, and immediately, push the nose into a steady pitch down. Tech's smile after the fact made the hours of work worth it for Crosshair, even as he and Tech snuck back to their quarters far past curfew. The duo dodged Kaminoans and first generation clones who were on sentry duty in the hallways until they reached the door to their barracks, where Tech stopped to look up at Crosshair with a curious look.
"You did not need to assist me with my flight simulator training, Crosshair. Why did you spend all night with me, when my problems stem solely from my own insecurities?" Tech asked, his hands threading together anxiously as Tech stared at the ground between them.
The insinuation of Tech's words made Crosshair sigh, before he crooked a smile then gently ruffled Tech's hair. Tech tilted his head quizzically at the touch before a faint smile ghosted across his mouth, the sight enough to make the constant ache in Crosshair's heart ease.
"I spent all night with you because you needed me," Crosshair admitted as he opened the door to their barracks, "that's what brothers are for, little nerd. I promise, I will always be there for you.
"I promise."
"Tech…" Crosshair closed his eyes of the fond memory he had for his little brother, ground his teeth together, and tried to fight.
He was vulnerable, not just with his injury but with his compromised position, and had to move. No matter the growing pressure in his chest along his right side, or the sharp pain that coursed through his body at every inhale. Crosshair steeled himself then slowly dug his right elbow into the ground, then pushed upwards.
The second he moved though, Crosshair's injury protested immediately, the sudden force as if he'd been kicked in the chest by a guarlara. A gasp hissed from Crosshair's mouth before he collapsed onto his back, let out a sharp cry, then felt waves of blackness cloud his vision. Whatever had forced him out of his high roost had left him with a chest injury, that much Crosshair could ascertain from his shallow breathing and the relentless agony scything through his chest.
Crosshair had been trained as a field medic by Tech during their cadet years and through the three years of the war - the unending, unceasing war -, so the sniper was more than well-versed in combat injuries and the method of treating them. Tech had the medical scanner on hand, as well as the extensive trauma kit in his pack, for he had the official designation as medic of Clone Force 99. Their paranoid, overprepared brother never allowed any of his squad outside of the Havoc Marauder without a general trauma kit, a lecture on wound care for the most common injuries Clone Force 99 ran into, and always an anxious "be safe, please" that most of the Bad Batch failed to be.
Unfortunately for Crosshair, his trauma kit - lovingly packed before every mission by Tech, just as his lunch was - was buried deep in his pack, which he was laying on. Already Crosshair knew that his body could not handle moving again, for every breath he took made the pain in his chest unbearable. It was indefinitely clear that Crosshair needed immediate medical attention, but his brothers were far out of reach. They had to complete their mission, even if Crosshair had failed his routine check ins… the successful completion of their missions was the only guarantee for their safety. Mission first…
Crosshair did not know how much time passed as his vision and mind swam in darker circles, awakening the void within him that the war had created. The emptiness of the void took his emotions and mind into a place Crosshair could not easily crawl out of, and one he feared deeply. He'd never told his brothers how much the war had weighed upon his shoulders, nor how often he suffered silently through nightmares. Nightmares of death and blood he could never fully scrub from his hands. Nightmares of his brothers dying while Crosshair was seconds too late, his skills as a sniper and medic rendered useless in the face of his brothers' last dying gasps.
That void had eaten into Crosshair, nesting within his heart and mind as if waiting to strike, and the sniper knew there was only so much more time before he completely lost himself to the war. At the start of their first mission, Crosshair had been convinced he would die in battle - that was the purpose of the clones, after all -, though that thought had changed to losing himself as the war changed him. Now, as Crosshair's breathing grew ever more shallow, he realized his original assumption had always been correct.
The war would kill him.
His brothers would find him after the warmth had long been leached from his body, his failure in the one aspect of Crosshair that mattered all that he'd be able to take with him to the grave. That he'd left his brothers behind. That he'd hurt them and hadn't been there for them.
Short, weak gasps hissed from Crosshair's mouth as his heartbeat continued to slow under his training, the tears that had been burning at his eyes finally falling as he allowed himself to sink into the void. He knew that Tech would never be able to forgive himself for not reaching Crosshair in time, as well as Hunter would break under the loss of one of his squad. Wrecker would pretend he was coping, all while his heart shattered into unmendable pieces. Crosshair would hurt his brothers… and never be able to… apologize…
"Crosshair!"
The shout of his name was distant, and a weak echo that tore through his mind, slashing at his consciousness as Crosshair continued to slip. Dirt suddenly sprayed over the sniper's armor as someone slid to their knees at his side, a gentle hand flitting over his shoulder before shifting down. Crosshair's head still ached where the battle droid had struck the butt of its rifle into his visor, though the ache was nonexistent compared to the pressure within his chest. He was…
A soft voice called his name again, just as he felt fingers press against his carotid artery. Crosshair tried to stir at the touch, for it was warm and inviting unlike that of a droid's metallic fingers, though his body refused his demands. Even his heart rate would not climb to normal levels, not even when he heard the voice turn worried.
A hand shifted under his neck, steadying his head in place before Crosshair felt his helmet get gently lifted away from his head. Sunlight filtered into his closed eyes as a shadow hovered over his face, the hand at the nape of his neck shifting as the voice above him turned ever deeper with worry. He heard his name be repeated more than once, each time with a strain to the voice that Crosshair knew did not belong there. He knew this voice, knew the gentle hands that were like ghosts upon his armored frame, yet he couldn't find his…
"Crosshair, please! Breathe! Crosshair, wake up! Crosshair-"
Tech?
"Pulse- Crosshair, come on. Wake up, please, you cannot do this to me. Crosshair, don't you dare die on me!"
Tech. Tech was there. Tech had found him. Tech had found him. Tech was there. His little brother was-
The droids. Position…
"Position… compromised…" Crosshair hissed out as he let out a long breath that released his heart rate. Almost immediately, Crosshair felt his heart start to race, the pressure of holding his heartbeat at such a slow pace that it was undetectable too much for his injury. Tears slid down his cheeks as he heard Tech gasp out his name, then felt Tech's right hand brush against his cheek briefly.
Tech's touch was reassuring as Crosshair leaned his head into Tech's hand, his breaths growing shallower by the second. A quiet swear - "bloody git", Crosshair believed he heard - hissed from Tech's mouth before the warmth of his hand vanished from Crosshair's cheek. An involuntary protest hissed from Crosshair's mouth as he felt Tech move down towards his torso. The sniper could hear the incessant beeping of Tech's medical scanner, as well as Tech muttering quickly to himself as his brother focused solely on Crosshair's injury.
His mind wavered once more, dipping towards the void even as he heard Tech speaking, his brother's words filtering through his mind at sluggish intervals. Pneumothorax. Pulmonary contusion. Hemopneumothorax? Another groan hissed from Crosshair's mouth as he heard Tech whisper an apology, his brother's voice aching with hurt before Crosshair felt a new source of agony burst inside his chest.
A scream ripped through the air as Tech whispered soft assurances and apologies to Crosshair, his words deafened by the pain shattering through Crosshair. Crosshair attempted to twist his head, only to be met by instant resistance that earned him a sharp retort from Tech. Tech sounded furious as he continued to work on Crosshair's injury, furious enough that Crosshair retreated into himself. The sniper closed his mouth, ground his teeth together, breathed through his nose painfully, and cried. His tears burned his cheeks as Tech's hands never stopped in their work, his brother's infinite concentration ever an admirable trait of the technician.
Finally, Tech stopped. Crosshair heard Tech comm Hunter and Wrecker for immediate medical evacuation with the Havoc Marauder, the strained timbre of Tech's voice the only tell for how scared Tech was. Tech was scared because of Crosshair. He had hurt Tech.
"Little… nerd," Crosshair choked out as he finally opened his eyes, the pressure in his chest having ceased somewhat, "I'm… okay-"
Tech appeared over Crosshair's face, his golden brown eyes wide with terror as he looked down at Crosshair as he spoke, though Tech did not reach to touch Crosshair a second time. Instead, Tech's head snapped up with a snarl, his body stiffening like a steel cord as Tech slowly stood up, his gaze snapping between the trees carefully.
"Tec'?" Crosshair wheezed as he reached up with his left hand, then brushed it against Tech's cuirass.
To his surprise, Tech did not even notice as he jerked his right hand close to his helmet, then snarled over the comms. "Hunter, I need an immediate medevac! I had to conduct an emergency thoracostomy on Crosshair, and our position is compromised. I need you now."
Static hissed from Crosshair's helmet as Hunter answered Tech, though the tilt of Tech's head indicated a clear response from Hunter. Tech shut off the communication line with Hunter, then looked down at Crosshair, and it was only then that Crosshair noticed that Tech's DC-17s were both missing from their holsters on Tech's utility belt. Crosshair pointed towards Tech's holsters with a wordless question, a question Tech answered with a shake of his head.
"I was ambushed on the way towards your position. A commando droid surprised me, then broke both of my blasters before it started a hand-to-hand fight against me. I had no time to repair them to being operational."
Crosshair opened his mouth to respond when Tech suddenly stepped around Crosshair with an apology, then picked up Crosshair's Firepuncher rifle from where it had landed feet from Crosshair. Tech let out a sigh before he shot Crosshair a look that said don't move, then raised Crosshair's rifle so that the barrel was aimed into the distant trees.
"Tech?" Crosshair whispered as he glanced in the direction Tech was aiming, his eyes shifting through the forest of trees, the mix of sun and shade and-
Glints of steel flashed in his eyes as Crosshair slowly recognized a company of battle droids headed towards their position. His chest continued to ache, even as Tech used his right knee to balance himself, his left leg crouched as Tech's grip on the Firepuncher loosened slightly. Crosshair knew exactly what was going to happen and, with a determined growl, Crosshair drew his hip blaster from its holster on his left side, then aimed the blaster towards the company of droids as well.
Tech shot Crosshair a look before he lowered his visor, peered down the scope, shifted the barrel of the Firepuncher by mere inches, then fired. Crosshair watched the shot slam into the head of a battle droid that was hidden partially between two trees, then gawked up at Tech. His little brother had always been the second most accurate of the Bad Batch, yet Tech had never used Crosshair's sniper rifle before - had he?
Crosshair shook away the surprise as Tech shifted his rifle once more, fired, then continued in the same pattern. Every shot from the Firepuncher hit its mark, though Crosshair knew there would only be so much time before he and Tech were surrounded by the company of two hundred droids. Until then, Crosshair had to rely solely on Tech, and pray that Hunter was coming with his medevac.
The Firepuncher lay heavily in Tech's grasp as he fired at the next closest battle droid, the force of the rifle's shot more than enough to take down the droid with one clean headshot. Tech adjusted once more, looked through his visor and the scope, found his next target, then fired again. The droids had spread out, flanking Tech and Crosshair on all sides of the forest that surrounded the small clearing in the forest Crosshair had found to use as his sniper's perch. Tech knew how to handle the Firepuncher, and could bear the weight of the rifle all day, but Crosshair did not have all day.
As Tech shifted to his left, picking off two more droids along the way, his eyes shifted down to his brother. He'd found Crosshair without a pulse, without any indication of breathing, and with a clear chest injury. Fear had consumed Tech as he searched Crosshair for breathing as well as a pulse, only to find none - until Crosshair had spoken to Tech. No matter the fact that Crosshair was alive, Tech could not shake the fear that had overtaken his mind as he searched for Crosshair's pulse, for he knew he had conducted a dangerous emergency procedure on his brother.
His medical scanner had read out the scope of injuries Crosshair had at first glance, the readout of hemopneumothorax nearly causing Tech's heart to drop into his stomach. A hemopneumothorax meant that Crosshair's lung had collapsed, caused by a hole in his chest wall that a rib had punctured through. The medical scanner had read an influx of blood and air in Crosshair's pleural cavity, of such an amount that left Tech with no other option than an emergency, combat field thoracostomy.
His brain screamed with everything that could go wrong with Tech's choice - infection, for one -, yet it was the only choice Tech knew of to save his brother. All Tech cared about was his brothers. Was helping them, protecting them and aiding them to the best of his ability. In the case of Crosshair, Tech argued with himself as he wheeled to his ten o'clock, fired at three droids, then turned to his direct six o'clock and fired four times, a thoracostomy was the only option. As much as Tech hated that he'd been forced to that choice, it was the only conceivable option he could theorize that would keep Crosshair alive.
Crosshair was Tech's one and only priority, and one Tech would fight for to the end.
A tap on his leg then a quiet growl of a set of coordinates from Crosshair had Tech wheel completely around, then fire. The shot struck the side of the droid's chest, skittering off into the trees instead of downing the droid with one sole shot. Tech corrected his aim, closed one eye, then fired again, his second shot striking the droid in the head and downing it immediately.
But of a company of two hundred, Tech had hardly taken out more than fifteen droids, and the droids were getting closer. Crosshair continued to scan the trees for droids, his grasp on his blaster weak as the sniper searched for enemies. Tech could not afford to fail Crosshair and, with a snarl, he crouched over his brother's prone form, his right knee pressed against Crosshair's left side while his left leg spread his weight out over Crosshair. It wasn't a favorable position by any means, but one Tech took to keep Crosshair protected as he continued to hunt down targets and fire.
And Tech was forced to fire continually as he sought new droids for targets, shifted his weight to better guard Crosshair when he had to, and fired continuously. The forest was alive with blaster bolts as Tech and Crosshair, who finally could fire at the enemy wave of droids with his blaster now that they were in close enough range, protected their position.
The Firepuncher's barrel never rested in place for longer than it took for Tech to make certain the droid he'd fired at dropped, the constant hiss of bolts heating the sniper rifle's barrel thoroughly. Tech shifted away from Crosshair when Crosshair suddenly snarled droideka, the sniper's eyes narrowed in the direction of the encroaching droid.
Tech sighted down the scope of the rifle, lined the shot up between the space between the droideka's head and its rear leg as the droideka raced towards their position, then thumbed back the rifle's trigger. The shot sailed towards the droideka, slamming directly into the hydraulic line that powered the extension and retraction of the droideka's legs. The hydraulic line snapped, sending the legs outwards as the droideka continued rolling, the momentum of its roll throwing the droideka onto its side. Tech watched the droideka for another second, aimed the Firepuncher twenty inches to the right of the droideka, tracked a swiftly moving signature of another droideka, then fired.
The sound of metal crashing into wood echoed through the forest as Tech dodged a shot from one droid, fired back in retaliation, then shifted the scope. The company of droids was waning in number, though not quickly enough for Tech's waning stamina or for Crosshair's labored breathing. Crosshair needed an immediate medevac, while Tech was stranded protecting both of them from the droids.
"Bloody hell, Hunter, where are you!?" Tech snarled over the comms as a droid's shot struck Tech directly in the cuirass, forcing his shot off balance so that the Firepuncher's bolt struck a branch instead of the droid he'd been aiming at.
Tech frowned as he rightened his stance, aimed down the scope, then fired at the offending droid, dropping said droid with a single shot to the cranium. Sweat was beading underneath Tech's blacks as he continued his dance of death, his head and mind working overtime as he turned in all directions that they were surrounded from, the roar of the Firepuncher uncessing. Tech's visor sputtered out a readout from the Firepuncher as Tech dodged another shot by jerking sideways before firing at the droid, the readout plain in its diagnostic. The Firepuncher could not last much longer under the relentless rain of fire Tech had been pouring down on the company of droids.
He was exhausted. Sore. Numb even, from the shots that had grazed his armor and body that Tech hadn't even noticed, and tired. Tech sighted down the scope, lined up another droid, fired, then felt his legs waver. He had been fighting for far too long with his brother's sniper rifle, all while a constant pallor of fear and terror rested over his chest. Crosshair could still die, even with all of Tech's efforts to save his brother from his hemopneumothorax, as well as Tech could.
Tech looked down at Crosshair, who was firing at the droids with his blaster, to the best of his ability even as his head and neck were held by a cervical collar, then studied his brother. Crosshair's skin was ashen, while his eyes were ablaze with rage and fear, and the gauze dressing over the puncture in his right chest - directly beneath Crosshair's pectoral, which had forced Tech to remove the chestplate of the sniper's armor before conducting the thoracostomy - rose with each heaving breath Crosshair took. Crosshair was not going to last much longer under these conditions. Tech could not lose his best friend.
Failure was not an option.
With new fire burning through Tech as Crosshair's left hand suddenly slumped to the ground, his blaster striking the ground as Crosshair let out a pained gasp, Tech shifted the Firepuncher to his left arm. Tech shoved the rifle against his collarbone as he fired, while he used his right hand to reach into his utility belt to fish out a droid popper.
Tech shifted the scope of the rifle, searching for the largest cluster of droids while firing at any strays one handed, then stopped. Approaching from Crosshair's left was a small cluster of droids, just the target Tech needed. With a snarl, Tech threw the droid popper towards the cluster of droids, shifted the Firepuncher into both hands, then fired.
The bolt struck home against the droid popper, producing a snap of electricity that slammed the cluster of ten droids to the ground as the overcharged droid popper slammed to the ground amongst the fallen droids. Tech turned to his next target - the commander droid, who had finally emerged from hiding amongst the trees -, lowered his eye to the scope, lined the scope to the droid's head-
A hand suddenly yanked Tech downwards, just as Tech squeezed the trigger of the Firepuncher, forcing Tech to crash to the ground as a streak of heat narrowly missed where his neck had been seconds earlier. Tech froze as he looked towards Crosshair, who had his blaster raised once more and was firing to Crosshair's right, aware of the fact Crosshair had risked exacerbating his injury to save Tech. Crosshair always had his eyes trained on Tech to protect him, even when Tech was protecting his brother.
A faint smile flitted across Tech's mouth as he grabbed the Firepuncher, wheeled to his six o'clock, caught a droid in the scope's crosshairs, then thumbed back the trigger. The droid slammed to the ground as Tech's shot blasted through its eye, a spray of duff and leaves covering the droid as-
Tech suddenly staggered as a shot clipped his right shoulder, throwing Tech to the ground on top of the Firepuncher, his helmet striking against the warm barrel as Tech's exhaustion warred with his need to protect Crosshair. He heard Crosshair weakly growl his name as Tech tried to scramble to his feet, though his body refused to listen as Tech's hand slipped off of the Firepuncher.
Metallic footsteps moved closer to Tech's position as he looked towards Crosshair, meeting his best friend's eyes with a silent apology. Crosshair lifted his lips in a snarl as he raised his blaster, then aimed over Tech's downed form. Tech shifted his head in the direction Crosshair was aiming, his eyes tracking the droids approaching their position, then tried to reach for the Firepuncher underneath his body. Tech fought to shimmy the rifle out from under his body as Crosshair fired at the droids, though Tech's sore hands slipped over the hot metal as he rolled off the rifle.
"TECH!"
Wrecker's voice boomed through the trees, seconds before the Havoc Marauder appeared over the trees, cannons roaring as the shuttle descended into the small meadow. Tech watched as Wrecker leapt from the docking ramp, his blaster spitting blaster bolt after blaster bolt as the shuttle continued to fire at the surrounding trees. Tech winced as trees splintered as the powerful frontal cannons screamed through the forest, obliterating trees in Hunter's conquest to eradicate the droids threatening his brothers.
Finally, the Havoc Marauder landed, the sound of Wrecker and Hunter's shouts the last thing Tech heard as his exhaustion claimed him - though not before he took Crosshair's left hand with his own and squeezed a message.
I love you.
Crosshair awoke to the steady beeping of machines and the even steadier thrum of Tech's voice. The sniper's eyes opened slowly, expecting bright lights to flood his sensitive eyes as always happened when he was trapped in a medical wing - he recognized the sound and smell of a medical bay as if it was second nature -, only for dim, faded lights to greet his eyes. Tech's voice continued to rumble from Crosshair's right side, the smooth, steady calm of his brother's voice always a balm to Crosshair's nerves.
His memories returned slowly, piecing together everything that had happened that had led Crosshair to the medical frigate. To the aching in his chest that had rendered him useless in battle as Tech used his sniper rifle to protect them both.
Crosshair settled the Firepuncher between a forked branch, his focus on the anti-air cannons that protected the heavy water facility unwavering. His brothers were already at the target, while Crosshair waited for Hunter's signal to take out the cannons. The sniper had already found the chink in the cannon's shields, which an electromagnetic pulse shot from his rifle would make fine work of, and was ready.
Hunter's voice rumbled through Crosshair's helmet, just as the cannon suddenly shifted, the turret turning until the four barrels of the gun slammed to a stop - aimed directly at Crosshair. Fear shot through Crosshair as the cannon fired, punching four rounds towards his exact position.
"Position-"
Before Crosshair could finish speaking, the four rounds slammed into the giant pine he'd rested in, throwing Crosshair off his feet and into the branches. Crosshair scrambled for the nearest branch, only for his hand to brush against slick bark before he plummeted towards the forest floor. His body slammed between branches, knocking the wind from his lungs as the sniper's head crashed into a gnarled branch.
When Crosshair woke, his body screeching in constant protests to him, he was laid out on his stomach, his body and mind entirely unresponsive. Two battle droids hovered over him, inspecting the clone curiously as they rolled Crosshair over, a debate raging between the two droids on Crosshair's state of living.
Crosshair frowned as the rest of his memories came back, though the memory of Tech using his rifle made him smile. Tech had impressed Crosshair with his handling of the sniper rifle as Tech fought off the company of droids, for Crosshair had never seen his little brother use the rifle himself. Of course, Tech had worked on the rifle countless times to repair and upgrade the Firepuncher, but using it in battle?
"You're a very good shot with my rifle," Crosshair growled out, a hitched note of surprise startling through Crosshair when his chest did not immediately punish him with fire for speaking. Crosshair kept his surprise to himself as he craned his neck to look down at his right side, a grimace tugging at his mouth as he realized he was shirtless with gauze covering his injury site beneath his right pectoral.
Frustration snapped from Crosshair as he turned towards Tech, who had stopped speaking as he watched Crosshair closely, his golden brown eyes sharp with worry, then sighed. Tech stood up from the small chair he had been using as a seat, placed his datapad onto the chair beside him - Tech had been reading out loud to Crosshair -, then stepped up to Crosshair's side. Tech's left hand brushed through Crosshair's silver hair, a gentle touch that made Crosshair's body relax out of its naturally tense state.
"Did you believe I would not test my repairs and upgrades to your rifle?" Tech whispered, the faintest hint of a laugh in the technician's flat statement as Tech's gaze roamed down to Crosshair's gauze covered injury. "How are you feeling, brother?"
Crosshair slouched into his pillows, closed his eyes, then let himself focus solely on the state of his body. He could still feel a faint pressure in his chest, though that pain radiated solely from underneath the gauze, as well as numerous bruises and a fuzziness in his head that was unsettling. But, in comparison to his state on Xendek, Crosshair felt much better.
So, with a soft smile, Crosshair looked up at Tech, met his brother's gaze fleetingly, then took Tech's right hand in his own. Tech stiffened at the unexpected touch at first, though he quickly relaxed as Crosshair began rubbing his thumb against the back of Tech's hand. "Doing much better now, thanks to you. You were exceptionally stupid but brave fighting off that company of droids, little brother! I was worried about you."
Tech's cheeks flushed as he ducked his head away from Crosshair's view, though not swiftly enough for Crosshair to miss the way Tech beamed at his words. Crosshair pulled Tech's right hand gently, forcing his best friend to face him once again, then smiled up at Tech. His little brother had saved him once again, which left Crosshair forever in debt to Tech. Tech had done more than Crosshair than he could fully explain, for Tech had saved Crosshair from his rage and fury, and had far too often saved Crosshair in the midst of battle.
"You did well," Crosshair grumbled, allowing himself to believe that the pain medications he was clearly on - he could see the IV hanging to his left side - was making him more sentimental than usual. After all, what harm could come from complimenting Tech? "And I couldn't be more thankful to have had you be the one to find me, little nerd. How bad were the injuries?"
Tech looked thoughtful for a moment before he released Crosshair's hand, urged him to wait for a moment, then hurried to the small fresher in Crosshair's room. Crosshair observed Tech's flight with a curious tilt of his head before Tech emerged from the fresher with a wet washcloth. Tech stopped beside Crosshair, pulled his chair up to the edge of Crosshair's bed, then started to wash Crosshair's face of the grime and dirt that had accumulated on his skin.
As Tech continued to tend to Crosshair, he released a sigh, then began to explain every single one of Crosshair's injuries in full scope. He had suffered from a hemopneumothorax due to blunt trauma from falling against branches and the duff-laden dirt of Xendek, a byproduct of one of his ribs puncturing his right lung. Crosshair also had a concussion that had been detected at the Republic medical frigate they were currently staying at, as well as numerous bruises and contusions - including a pulmonary contusion along his right lung. In effect, Crosshair was going to be stuck on the medical frigate for days.
Which was utterly thrilling.
"And the mission?"
"Completed, though the objective remains as yet another unofficial mission due to the nature of the heavy water facility," Tech rambled as he finished washing Crosshair's face, then gestured to his chest.
Crosshair permitted Tech's non-verbal question with a shrug of his shoulders, that which earned Crosshair a stern eyebrow from his best friend. Tech gathered himself to his feet as he headed back to the fresher, emerging this time with a small basin and another, clean rag in his hands. When Tech sat down beside Crosshair once more, he moved carefully and gently as he cleaned the dirt and grime from Crosshair's chest, the trail of warm water relieving compared to the constant feel of grit and dust that had nestled over the sniper's body.
Tech finished after thirty minutes, a precision to his every movement that extended the time compared to how long Hunter, Wrecker or even Crosshair would have washed one of their brothers. Tech placed the wash basin to the ground, then turned to face Crosshair, his expression worried and fretting. Concern wormed through Crosshair as Tech squeezed his right hand, then let out a low sigh.
"I thought I had made a mistake in how I tended to your injuries on the combat field," Tech admitted as he fidgeted with Crosshair's right hand, his calloused fingers tapping against the back of his hand without any true message behind each tap, "as the thoracostomy is a dangerous procedure to enact in combat. My doubts were made worse when your body had a minor infection, though the antibiotics you are on helped fight the infection off. I… I was scared, Crosshair."
Crosshair stiffened as Tech spoke, the urge to interrupt and reassure Tech strong, though he knew he had to allow Tech to speak his mind fully for his brother to feel heard. Tech's doubt radiated off him in sharp waves as Tech refused to meet Crosshair's eyes, the restless tapping of his fingers against Crosshair's right hand distracting as much as they were soothing. Which was what Tech needed, desperately.
Carefully, Crosshair pulled his right hand from Tech's, then raised his hand up to rub at Tech's hair, a slow, pleased hum rumbling from the sniper as Tech's blush dusted his cheeks further. "Unfortunately for you, little nerd, you're stuck with me once more. What a terrible tragedy."
Tech frowned at Crosshair's joke, though Tech did not retort or pull away as Crosshair continued to ruffle his brother's soft, light brown hair. Eventually, Tech lowered himself so that he was resting his chest and head on Crosshair's bunk, a faint smile visible only for Crosshair's enhanced vision. Crosshair shifted his hand from Tech's hair, wrapped his arm around Tech's back, then pressed his face into Tech's hair.
Tech often smelled of oil, grease and the Havoc Marauder's inner workings, and it was a smell Crosshair had become quite accustomed to. Just as he had Wrecker and Hunter, Crosshair's every sense was tuned to protect his brothers, though he did not hold the same enhanced senses as Hunter. No matter what danger next befell his team, Crosshair would protect them - better than he had on Xendek.
"Crosshair?" Tech's voice rumbled sleepily from where Tech had nestled his head against Crosshair's collarbone, his voice slurred ever so slightly.
"Yes?"
"You scared another nurse with the reflection of your tapetum lucidum, Crosshair… You were only briefly awake at night when they stepped in and saw your red eyes. Hunter was very displeased, as their scream woke him up… Perhaps I should procure you a permanent set of glasses to mask your eyes in public…"
A soft laugh escaped Crosshair as the mental image of a Republic aligned nurse screaming and fleeing from his room filtered into his mind, for this would not be the first time. Hunter had been the first to notice Crosshair's eyes when Crosshair had joined Experimental Unit 99, though Hunter was the first to not laugh at Crosshair's eyes. The regs had seen Crosshair's eyes first and summarily beat him for being a "freak", yet Hunter had only stared at him for a long minute, chuckled, then stated Crosshair's eyes were "cool".
Before Hunter, Crosshair had hated his eyes and the way the regs picked on him solely for the uniqueness within his eyes. Now, as he laughed and rubbed his right hand between Tech's shoulder blades, Crosshair was glad for his eyes. It was only because of them that he was able to protect his brothers, and them that had afforded him the chance to meet his family. Who cared if he scared a few unsuspecting nurses when the payoff was even hearing Tech laugh?
"Please," Tech suddenly said through a broad yawn, "be more careful next time you wish to injure yourself during a mission. I would prefer it if you stuck to a broken arm or sprained ankle. No more chest injuries, please."
"I will try my best, nerd," Crosshair snorted as he felt Tech sag into his shoulder bonelessly, the soft snores of his little brother always soothing.
His little brother who had saved him and wielded his sniper rifle with ease and skill that Crosshair had never known Tech to have. His little brother, who Crosshair would fight tooth and nail for, no matter who threatened his brother. For Crosshair, all that ever would matter to him was his family, and it was his three brothers who kept Crosshair grounded. He needed them, just as much as he knew Tech, Hunter and Wrecker needed Crosshair.
Crosshair closed his eyes as he continued to rub circles between Tech's shoulder blades, his every ounce of concentration honed sharply to protect Tech. As Tech had protected Crosshair, the least Crosshair could do was provide Tech with the same comfort and care Tech always returned the sniper.
Ever since Crosshair had met Tech, the smaller clone had always been fiercely protective and kind, and the war had made Tech even more so than before. Tech's loyalty was stronger than ever, just as his will was never more resolute than now with the fire of war forging Tech into the man he was now. Tech was still as shy as he had been as a cadet, still as selfless and intelligent, but the war had hardened that selflessness into a desire to protect his family, as well as others. Tech's strength was resolute, his heart his strongest suit, and Crosshair was proud to have Tech as his brother.
As his protector.