Work Text:
“Can you hear me? Wrecker?”
Wrecker groans, the voice - one of his brothers…he can’t tell which one - throbs like a percussion inside his skull. It’s excruciating and soothing all at once. He’s dying, but he’s not alone. He won’t die alone.
“Stay with me, Wreck, you’re going to be fine,” his brother says.
His eyes are open, but he only sees darkness, a consuming shroud of a thing. He’s blind, he can’t even see his brother’s face one last time before…
“Dying…” Wrecker croaks.
His brother scoffs, and he’d know that deprecating sound anywhere. Crosshair.
“I just told you you’re fine,” Crosshair says, but his voice is reedy.
“Cross…” Wrecker manages. He reaches out blindly, and thin fingers clasp around his hand, gripping so tight Wrecker wonders if Crosshair thinks it will keep him from falling into the abyss of death.
“Do you trust me?” Crosshair asks.
Wrecker swallows around the pain, the fear, the sorrow. He nods, the tiny movement agonizing.
“Good. Then you’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Crosshair doesn’t have any sort of cosmic power to keep his word. Wrecker clings to it nonetheless. He trusts his brother to the ends of the galaxy.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
Omega curls into Wrecker’s side. She’s grown in the months they’ve been apart. She’s taller, her hair is longer, and her face has lost some of the soft edges that made her look so young. But the light in her eyes has dulled, her expressions have sharpened. She’s seen and experienced things on Tantiss that haunt her and have shaped her.
“I missed you so much,” Omega whispers.
Wrecker chuckles brokenly. “I missed you more.”
Wrecker’s gaze darts to the sniper sleeping in one of the fold down bunks. Almost as soon as Hunter got the Marauder into hyperspace, Crosshair had wilted, as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
The weight of keeping their sister safe alone.
He’d gotten Omega out of Tantiss when Wrecker and Hunter couldn’t. Omega had given them an abridged version of their escape. She couldn’t have done it without him. No chance in sith’s hell.
“Do you trust him?” Wrecker asks, a rumble of a whisper. He doesn’t have to clarify who.
Omega twists in his one armed grip, looking up at him so that their eyes meet. “Yes,” she says, her voice soft and confident, no discernible waver of doubt.
Wrecker remembers when he trusted his brother that much, with every last particle in his being. That trust had shattered long ago, but maybe it could be gathered up and rebuilt. Omega trusts him, and Wrecker trusts Omega. Maybe that can be enough for now.