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Tech had said it was important to journal his nightmares every day that he could remember them, and he’d launched into a long explanation about why which Echo had forgotten entirely, but for some reason, he’d agreed to try to journal. Now Echo found himself regretting that as he stared at the empty word document he’d opened on his datapad.
He didn’t want to write about the nightmares. Tech had assured him that no one was going to read his journal, but it still felt wrong to write about them. It was like by writing them, he made them real – and they weren’t real, so why should he make himself relive things that were best forgotten when he wrote about them. But he’d promised Tech, so slowly, he typed the date, and then thought back to when he’d been sleeping, not an hour ago.
Apparently, according to Crosshair, he’d been whimpering in his sleep, so Crosshair, who was on watch right then, woke him, and then promptly walked off, letting Echo recover on his own. Unable to sleep, Echo had made his way to the cockpit, drank some coffee that Crosshair must have made – why was he drinking coffee this early in the morning? – and sat down to write his nightmare.
Echo looked up from the datapad, jumping slightly as he saw Crosshair sitting in the pilot seat – Echo was in the copilot seat – already fully dressed in his grey armor minus helmet, staring off into space. Echo frowned, but dismissed it, looking back down at the white and the blinking caret waiting patiently for him to be ready.
He took a sip of his coffee. He was definitely stalling, he realized as he looked up at Crosshair again. “You can rest now, Crosshair.” He told Crosshair, who did not react at all. “I can’t sleep, so you might as well.” Crosshair didn’t respond, still staring blankly out the window, and Echo sighed. He looked back down at his datapad and took another sip of coffee.
I had a nightmare, he typed, then deleted it again. How on earth was he supposed to start writing this? He looked up as Crosshair shifted, then sighed and looked down again. I was back there with them and they were working on me. He sighed, then changed them to The Techno Union. Another sigh, another slurp of coffee and he continued. I was strapped to a table, he wrote, glancing nervously up at Crosshair, noting that he still hadn’t moved.
He flicked off the screen, looking up. “Crosshair?” He asked. “Are you okay?” His voice was more than tinged with worry.
“Mind your own kriffing business, reg.” Crosshair snapped, standing abruptly to walk out, but stopping when someone appeared in the doorway.
“I heard voices.” Hunter blinked as he looked at the scene in front of him. Crosshair sighed, shouldering past him to go lock himself in the fresher, and Echo looked away awkwardly. Hunter sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “What’s wrong?” He sighed.
“I don’t know.” Echo sighed. “He woke me up when I was having a nightmare, and he’s barely said anything but to snap at me.” He sighed.
Hunter sighed also. “I’ll go deal with him.” He walked out, and Echo grimaced. No one liked to deal with an angry Crosshair, let alone just after he’d gotten up.
Echo looked back down at his datapad. They’d just cut off my arm. He shuddered as he typed, taking another sip of the coffee, rapidly cooling. He could hear Hunter and Crosshair arguing softly in the background.
“Crosshair-”
“I told you, Hunter, kriff off and leave me the kark alone.” Looking back down at the waiting document compared to the argument happening in the corridor, the choice was easy for Echo. He set the datapad down, and walked quietly out into the hold.
Crosshair was standing in the door of the fresher, glaring at Hunter, while Hunter stood between him and the cockpit. “I’m trying to help, darn it!” Hunter wasn’t whispering by a long shot – it was a surprise Tech wasn’t up already. Not even a thunderstorm could wake Wrecker, so there was nothing to be afraid of on that front.
“Have you ever considered the fact that I don’t want you to help?” Crosshair retorted, hissing. “Mind your own karking business.” He saw Echo, and his scowl deepened, as he pushed past Hunter, heading for the cockpit while Hunter watched, worried and tired. The cockpit door hissed shut and locked with a click.
“Sleep, Hunter. I’ll deal with it.” Hunter sighed, but consented, walking back into the bunkroom. Echo glanced into the bunkroom, seeing a light, and spotted Tech, already awake and on his datapad, and waved a greeting to him before turning to face the cockpit. He deftly disengaged the lock, and the door opened, and he sighed as he found two crates blocking the way. He quickly climbed up the crates and slid over them, and then jumped down, letting the cockpit door shut and not bothering to move the crates. Crosshair was back in the pilot’s seat, staring blankly out the window at hyperspace again.
“That goes for you too, Echo. Kriff off. I’m not answering your kriffing questions.” He growled as Echo walked back over, settling back in his seat.
“I wasn’t going to ask you anything.” Echo told him calmly, opening his file back up and grimacing at the screen. “I just wanted to sit in the cockpit in peace.” Crosshair didn’t answer, though the tension clear in his posture even through his armor relaxed slightly. Echo took another sip of his cool coffee, and looked down at the datapad. I could feel them fixing stuff in my arm. He refused to go into any more detail than that – Tech should be glad he’s at least doing this for him.
They’d drugged me, enough so I couldn’t move or scream, but not enough that I didn’t feel it. Though maybe he’d felt it less than he would have he was entirely there. He shivered. And then they started cutting – Echo pressed backspace, deleting the whole document. He was trembling. He couldn’t write about this, he realized, staring at the now empty document. Maybe later, when his captivity wasn’t so new, so recent it still felt like yesterday.
He realized he was staring at the datapad blankly and shaking, so he set it down, draining the last of his coffee. Tech’d have to find another way to stop the nightmares, he couldn’t write about it. Just seeing it on paper – it was terrifying. Echo headed over to the coffee machine, swiftly setting another batch to brew as he glanced at Crosshair.
He sighed. “Crosshair, if anything is wrong, you know you can talk to me.” He told the sniper, instantly regretting it, realizing how hypocritical he sounded.
“I’m not going to tell you anything.” He hissed. “I’m a karking soldier, I shouldn’t get scared of stupid -” He cut himself off, realizing he was revealing too much, seemingly curling in on himself.
Echo’s eyes widened, as he walked back over, taking the copilot chair again. “Nightmares? Crosshair, did you have a nightmare?” He asked, startled, but understanding.
“No.” Crosshair hissed, but Echo knew he was lying.
“You know I get nightmares as well.” Echo spoke softly, glancing warily at the door. “Tech wants me to journal them because I’m - I don’t want to sleep anymore, if every time I do I’m back in Skako Minor with them cu-” He gulped, shuddering, not noticing how Crosshair had turned his chair to face him. “He wants me to write them down – but I can’t.” He didn’t know why he was telling Crosshair this, but now he’d started, he couldn’t stop.
“It’s too real. I can still feel them cutting me and installing things that I don’t want and making me this – this freak!” He was suddenly trembling. “It’s - I can’t deal with them.” He took a deep breath, blinking back tears, and smiled waterly. “I hate it.” He sighed, looking away. “I’m sorry.”
There was silence as Echo clamped his hands around his armrest, sniffing, and then sighing, wiping any tears that might approach out as he rubbed his eyes.
“I dreamt you all died.” A quiet voice startled Echo, who took a second to realize that Crosshair was speaking, and he instantly looked up. Crosshair shrank slightly under his gaze, and Echo looked away. “And then -” he took a shaky breath, Echo glancing at him in concern. “You all came and accused me of killing you.” He glared at the carpet, and Echo noticed the minute way he was shaking.
“Hunter strangled me.” Crosshair breathed, fists clenched, shaking. “He said – I wasn’t worth it. I was a waste of space.” He paused, breathing heavily.
“You’re not a waste of space.” Echo said firmly, and Crosshair looked up at him, with a pleading look – Echo had never and never wanted to ever see that again, Crosshair, he was the strongest, he wasn’t supposed to be this scared man.
“But what if I am? All I do is snipe, I’m no use anywhere except behind a sniper rifle. I’m practically useless on a close range battle field!”
“That’s not true.” Echo contradicted Crosshair. “You’re a good shot with any weapon, sniper rifle or not. You can do hand to hand, even if you don’t use it much. When we’re indoors, you use that kriffing cool mirror trick and even then you beat Wrecker in kill counts.” Echo’s voice grew firmer as he spoke. “You’re kriffing amazing.” He sighed. “You’re not a waste of space. I don’t know what this team would do without you.” He spoke with as much force as he could.
“But-”
“There’s no dispute on this, Crosshair. No matter what lies your nightmares tell you. We need you on this team.” Echo huffed as a small smirk came on his face. “Honestly, I’ve been here what – four months? - and I can see that this team would actually fall apart without you. You aren’t a waste of space, you’re our brother.”
Crosshair nodded staring at the floor. “Thank you.” He said softly, looking up as Echo smiled reassuringly at him.
“It’s nothing.” Echo sighed, smiling, but it faded. “If you want to sleep, you can sleep while I’m on watch and I’ll wake you if you have a nightmare.” He told Crosshair. “I probably won’t get any sleep anyway.” He said ruefully, and Crosshair’s dark eyes met his.
“Tech’s going to notice.” He pointed out, and Echo’s eyes widened. That’s why he’d been being so cagey. He didn’t want Tech to notice – imagine having to write about your brothers saying you killed them – and he clearly didn’t want Hunter’s worry or Wrecker’s pity, so he had chosen to suffer in silence.
“Then sleep in here. I’ve seen the way you can sleep anywhere, so sleeping on these comfy chairs shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll take the rest of the night’s watch, don’t worry.” Crosshair nodded, and Echo wondered exactly how tired Crosshair must be to get him to agree this easily.
“Thank you, Echo.” He repeated, and slowly began to remove his armor – he must have worn that so he could stay awake, Echo realized as he went to pour himself another mug of luke-warm coffee. By the time he’d finished the mug, Crosshair was lying on the chair, armor stacked in the corner and eyes closed. Echo smiled, before ambling back to his seat and sitting back down.
He noticed the crates still blocked the door, but he decided to leave them, he could move them in the morning. Until then, he could watch over his brother as he slept.