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It is rare for the Havoc Marauder to be completely silent, as much as Crosshair would’ve enjoyed some silence every now and then. The biggest contributor to the constant noise of the shuttle has always been Wrecker, whether it be with his impossibly loud footsteps or by the fact he just didn’t seem to ever know when to keep his mouth shut. Tech wasn’t too far behind, surprisingly, with the noise from his workbench and his near-constant mumbling to himself.
So it serves as a testament to the ordeal they have just been through that the shuttle is so silent.
Not completely silent, admittedly. The repetitive beeping of Hunter’s med monitor as it analyzes his vital signs rings out in the shuttle, the quiet beeping feeling impossibly loud. His labored breathing is the loudest sound in the room, even with the oxygen mask on over his face, and is the one sound that Crosshair’s focus remains upon. The fact that he’s breathing at all is beyond Crosshair’s understanding, even Tech seemed to be perplexed by it. Relieved, but perplexed.
Hunter has always been a fighter, so it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that he remains in the world of the living. Nevertheless, it never fails to shake them all up whenever one of them has a near-death experience like this. Especially when it comes to their patriarch, something Crosshair would never admit to calling him out loud.
He wouldn’t want to live in a world without any of his brothers, but it’s Hunter he is most afraid of losing. It’s Hunter he wouldn’t know how to live without, nor would he want to.
Hunter isn’t out of the woods just yet, even if his vital signs have stabilized. His brain had been put through the ringer, it would take time before he woke up again. If he woke up again.
For the time being, they sit adrift in space above the planet Haileap, still attempting to catch their bearings after only narrowly escaping from the planet’s surface. The infiltration mission they were assigned by Commander Lydiley, paying back an overdue favor to her, had made Crosshair roll his eyes when Hunter read aloud the dossier, the ease of the mission amusing. At the time he had thought it a waste of their potential to spend it on a mission that even the regs could complete. Looking back, he wishes it had been the regs sent on the mission instead.
The detail that had been omitted, whether by Hunter himself or the Republic, was the strength of the magnetic field that surrounded the atmosphere of Haileap. Crosshair could surmise a guess as to which it had been.
It hadn’t taken long for the effects of the magnetic field to begin affecting Hunter, something nobody on the team missed. It has been clear as day that something was wrong with Hunter, even if he would never admit it in a thousand years. They were all attuned to one another as if they were a part of each other, the well-oiled machine that their team functioned as extending even deeper taking into account the bond they all shared.
It had only been a matter of time before even Hunter couldn’t hide how severely the magnetic field toyed with his senses, making the already hyperactive nervous system in his body even more active.
His seizure was inevitable, as it always is when Hunter’s senses are overloaded. It didn’t help that Hunter’s seizure came at the exact moment a droid battalion descended upon them, their egress from the infiltrated base setting off the security alarms that littered the base.
What came next was still a blur to Crosshair. He remembers the franticness of his actions as he, Tech, and Wrecker formed a circle around Hunter to protect him as they rained blaster-fire upon the droids before them. Crosshair had counted the seconds for which it took for Hunter’s seizing to stop, his heart rate ticking up with every second that passed by.
275 seconds passed by before Hunter’s seizing finally stopped, opening up a window for them to make their escape.
Then it had been a race against the clock as Wrecker lifted the limp Hunter into his arms, Tech activating the ship’s engines from his wrist computer so they would be able to take off as soon as their boots touched the shuttle floor.
And then-
“You are thinking too loud, Crosshair,” Tech says, not looking up at him from his datapad. He has been recording Hunter’s vital signs every 15 minutes to the second, the repetitiveness of the routine keeping Tech as calm as he could be.
It makes Crosshair frown, even if his brother is right. “You’re one to talk, nerd.”
Tech ignores the last part, adjusting his goggles, “I am merely stating a fact; your thought process will only lead you to false conclusions about yourself and your involvement in Hunter’s condition.”
“My involvement?” Crosshair asks. He has never been good at concealing his rage; it was easier for it to slide off his tongue than for him to do anything else with it. “You’re saying this is my fault?”
He knows it isn’t what Tech means, and he knows as well that Tech does, too. Crosshair is looking for a fight where he can get one, if only to distract him long enough from Hunter.
Tech doesn’t react to Crosshair’s raised voice, his brother long used to how he would lash out in moments like this. “What I am saying is that you are misplacing blame onto yourself. You could not have, nor could any of us, prepare for what happened today. We were not aware of the magnetic field that led to Hunter’s condition.”
Crosshair scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, but he doesn’t have time to counter what Tech says before Wrecker’s voice cuts in, “Hey, look. Looks like he’s openin’ ‘is eyes.”
Crosshair’s attention snaps from watching the rise and fall of Hunter’s chest to his face, where sure enough a pair of copper brown eyes greet him. Relief floods him first, then rage. He tells himself it’s rage at Hunter for being as careless and stupid as he had been, but he knows more than anything else that that rage lies with himself.
Tech is at Hunter’s side first, primarily because he is the one sitting closest to him, which allows him the chance to press a well-prepared hand to Hunter’s shoulder as he tries to sit up. “Do not move, Hunter. You are still recovering and need to rest.”
His hand comes up to wrap around Tech’s wrist, staring at his brother silently.
“We are all alright,” Tech says, answering the first question always out of Hunter’s mouth whenever he was injured on a mission. “It is only you who is hurt.”
That makes Hunter take a sigh of relief, fogging up his oxygen mask as he does so. He releases Tech’s wrist, lying back down to sink into the bunk they’d placed him in. For a moment Crosshair almost thinks he’s fallen back asleep already, that is until Hunter’s head rolls to the side to look at him.
The sudden eye contact, from Hunter of all people, makes Crosshair look away immediately. His brother would be able to read every emotion coming off of him with that one look, something Crosshair hated whenever he did.
“You ‘ad us worried for a while there, Hunts,” Wrecker says, his pacing of the short room coming to an end as he joins Hunter’s side.
Hunter says nothing in response, mainly because of the oxygen mask over his face, which he chooses that moment to tug on. Tech’s head turns on a swivel to look at Hunter’s vitals once, nodding as his hands move to remove the oxygen mask, “You are stable enough to have the mask removed, but please let us know if you have any difficulty breathing.”
They all know Hunter won’t if he does begin to struggle breathing again, which is why the pulse oximeter that Tech placed around his finger remains in place. They have become accustomed to Hunter’s inability to ask for help, adapting to notice when he does need help to provide it for him. Crosshair can count on one hand the amount of times Hunter has ever asked for help, all of them moments that still haunt him.
“Where…where are we?” Hunter asks, looking between each of them as the question leaves his lips. Even with Tech’s reassurance that they are all alright, he has always preferred setting eyes onto them to see for himself that they are alright.
“On our way to the medcenter above Coruscant. We should be arriving shortly,” Tech says.
Hunter shoots him a look as if to say ‘is that really necessary?’, his hatred for medcenters and the scans there stemming from the hours a day he would be forced to spend in them as a cadet. None of them particularly like medcenters, but Hunter has a disdain for them unlike any of the rest of them.
“I do not have the proper supplies to analyze for any brain damage you may have sustained,” Tech says. “For my own peace of mind, please understand.”
Hunter only nods in response, then a quiet, “‘m thirsty.”
Wrecker looks at Tech, who gives him a nod, with Wrecker leaving to grab Hunter a cup of water. As Wrecker leaves to get Hunter water, Tech delves into further examining Hunter’s condition now that he’s awake. He seems to be stable, but there have been plenty of times before where another wave of seizures hit Hunter.
“How are you feeling?” Tech asks, tapping on the med scanner to reanalyze Hunter’s biometrics.
“Like I got hit by a bantha, then he came back for round two to try to finish me off,” he answers, which while it isn’t really an answer, it tells them enough.
“Are you in any pain?” Tech asks.
“Eh. Been worse.”
Wrecker returns, a cup of ice water in hand and a small ration pack to go with it. Hunter won’t eat the rations, something he already reluctantly consumes on a good day, but he does guzzle down the water as if he’s been starved of it for his entire life.
All the while, Crosshair cannot find it in himself to get up to join his brothers around Hunter, still frozen to his seat as he watches them. He can feel Wrecker nudge him in his side at one point, nodding towards Hunter as if to say ‘Aren’t you gonna talk to him?’
Crosshair doesn’t move but to shoot a glare at Wrecker, who simply shrugs and resumes his place at Hunter’s side. He’d brought a weighted blanket with him, too, which he drapes over Hunter once Tech’s exam is finished.
His large hand finds its way into Hunter’s hair, gently stroking through his curls as Hunter’s heart rate almost immediately begins to even out and beat slower. “Rest up for us, alright?
Hunter nods, burying himself under the blankets without protest. The weighted blanket, a deep forest green, had been one that Wrecker spent hours haggling with a shop owner over, insisting the 300 credits they wanted it for was far too expensive. He’d been pleased with himself when he only had to pay half the price, even more so when Hunter had slept solidly for the first night in far too long with the blanket tucked around him.
Crosshair pretends he can’t feel Hunter’s eyes on him, choosing instead to focus his attention on reorganizing the medkit in the room. It’s easier than addressing his anger with Hunter, and with himself, and he can’t find it in himself to care that the silence in the room is partially from him.
It’s better than the cacophony of noise their shuttle was when they’d first brought Hunter onboard.
“Wrecker,” Tech’s voice breaks the silence. “I will require your aid in landing the shuttle once we reach the medcenter. Please, let us leave Crosshair be to help Hunter. Overcrowding Hunter will only make matters worse.”
Wrecker looks over at Hunter, then to Crosshair, then back to Hunter. He knows exactly what Tech is doing in pulling them both away from Hunter’s side,
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come help ya,” he says, taking hold of Hunter’s hand as he rises to his feet. He taps something out onto the back of his hand, a message that Crosshair can’t see from his place. But it makes Hunter’s lips twitch in an almost-smile, his hand squeezing back before Wrecker leaves for the cockpit.
Tech isn’t far behind him, only stopping in his tracks when Hunter grabs hold of his arm to stop him in place. Hunter sits up slowly, steadying himself on Tech, only to then pull him down enough so that their foreheads press together. The sudden motion doesn’t seem to phase Tech, and for once the sudden physical touch doesn’t seem to send alarm bells ringing in his mind. He relaxes into the touch, a hand of his own coming to rest on Hunter’s shoulder as they remain in each other’s embrace.
Tech pulls say after a few moments more, a soft smile on his face for the first time in recent memory.
“Alert us if you require any assistance,” he says to the both of them, leaving to follow in Wrecker’s tracks.
A few beats of silence pass as Crosshair tries to think of what to say to Hunter, the two of them alone now. There’s plenty on his mind, his thoughts churning in his head on a never-ending cycle.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Crosshair asks. It’s a rhetorical question, he knows Hunter won’t answer.
Hunter groans in response, wiping a hand over his face now that the oxygen mask is gone, “Nice to see you too, Crosshair.”
Crosshair’s arm cross over his chest as he looks at his brother, who didn’t seem at all to be affected by the fact he’d just nearly died. “Don’t play games with me. You were a reckless idiot out there and it almost got you killed.”
“That’s what I keep you boys around for, don’t you know?”
“Hunter.” Crosshair barks out his name, turning around from the counter he’s sorted their medical supplies. His rage reaches a tipping point as he storms towards Hunter, shoving him in the shoulder, “Shut up. Just…just shut up. You almost died and all you can do is make jokes?”
“Crosshair.”
“No, no, I’m not finished yet. You always do this to us, to me , and it isn’t fair that you just act like it doesn’t matter. We can’t lose you, Hunter.”
The hard expression on Hunter’s face softens, with Crosshair still glaring knives at him, as he sits up to properly look at Crosshair. The blanket that had been covering him falls into his lap, exposing the med scanner leads over his bare chest. “You won’t be losing me. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Crosshair rolls his eyes, “Oh yeah? So that’s your decision? You don’t get to make that call, tough shit. All you ever do is waltz into a life or death situation without any care for us. It’s as if we don’t matter to you.”
Now it’s Hunter’s turn to glare at Crosshair. He knew the moment the words left his mouth that they would hurt Hunter, which is the main reason he said them in the first place. He wanted to get a reaction out of his brother, rather than stare at his lack of expression for another second.
Hunter folds the blanket back further, moving over towards the wall as he motions towards the empty spot he’s created next to him. “C’mere, Crosshair.”
He’s left dumbfounded for a minute, staring blankly at Hunter in confusion. Now of all times, he wants to share a bunk with him? After Crosshair has just yelled at him and claimed that the very purpose of Hunter’s life is for nothing?
Hunter looks at him earnestly, the look in his eyes one reserved for when he wanted Crosshair to do something he didn’t want to, “Save the yelling for another day. I need my little brother right now.”
Crosshair sighs, uncrossing his arms as he reluctantly moves to stand next to Hunter, pulling the blanket back more as he slides in, “Fine, but only for a few minutes. I have better places to be.”
“Sure you do,” Hunter says, taking hold of Crosshair. His arms wrap around Crosshair, pulling him down with him as he slides back to lay flat in the bunk. With one fluid motion, Hunter pulls the weighted blanket over the top of them, tucking Crosshair into the space between his shoulder and collarbone as they lay down.
Crosshair was taller now than he had been as a cadet when he used to rest against Hunter’s chest, his gangly height making the position more difficult. Still, they make do. They always seemed to, in the end.
“Thanks for rescuing me out there,” Hunter murmurs softly.
“You can thank me by not pulling something like that again,” Crosshair responds from his place on Hunter’s chest.
He feels more than hears Hunter sigh, “I did what I had to do.”
“So did I.”
Hunter’s hand makes its way into Crosshair’s hair then, gently stroking through his silver curls as he further relaxes into the warmth of Hunter’s arms. He can’t deny that he had missed the comfort and safety that came with being in Hunter’s arms, even if his mind has been other places for a while now.
He can feel sleep pulling at his eyelids as Hunter works through his curls, something his brother knows to always relax him and to make him fall asleep. He should’ve known Hunter’s intentions were to make him sleep, considering he’s been awake for almost two days now, but he can’t find the strength in himself to fight off the exhaustion weighing him down. Hunter is the one he has always had the easiest time being vulnerable around, his carefully guarded walls falling down in his presence.
“Get some rest, Cross,” Hunter says, sounding equally as tired. “Love you.”
Crosshair presses further into Hunter’s chest, letting his eyes finally close. “Love you, too.”