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In his entire life, Wrecker had never felt so alone , yet it was rare that he found time to himself. He’d sat so still on his bunk for so long after Hunter had fallen asleep just making sure he’d be okay and stay asleep.
His oldest brother hadn’t slept for nearly a week, and after two days of reasoning, arguing, nagging, and–eventually–begging, Hunter had agreed to take a sedative.
He slowly eased himself from the bunk, cringing as it creaked beneath him, but Hunter didn’t stir. Wrecker sighed his relief as he stepped as quietly as he could out of the bunkroom.
He walked up to check on the NaviComputer. Finding it was alright and nothing needed to be adjusted, he wandered somewhat aimlessly around the ship.
He pulled out their med kit. It was still disorganized from the last time they’d needed it. He still wasn’t used to it; Omega always straightened it out any time they used it. He organized it, placing each item in its place again. The last item was a tub of bacta gel.
Setting the kit aside, Wrecker took the gel to the refresher. He took a deep breath, staring at himself in the mirror as he pulled his shirt off. Bruises practically covered him, various purples, greens, and yellows blotting out most of his rough, scarred skin.
He winced as he poked at a particularly dark one, then opened the tub, and started to apply it to the worst of them. He remembered each one.
The particularly angry bounty hunter that threw Hunter, and how he’d caught him just before they both stumbled over a ledge. The cave ceiling he’d held up until Hunter could slip out. The old base full of B1s that hadn’t gotten the memo about the end of the war.
By the time he’d smoothed a thin layer over them, he could feel the medicine working, and could feel the side effects washing over him. Wrecker was tired . Usually, when he fell asleep, Hunter would monitor the comms channels endlessly. Wrecker watched him for a while after he’d woken up once. It was trancelike, the way his older brother would sit at the console, eyes flashing from channel to channel, and occasionally sparing a split-second glance at the yellow lenses.
Wrecker made his way to them now. Lowering himself into the chair, he took the goggles in hand.
“Been a while since… since I got to update ya,” he said quietly to them. “It’s been three months– nah, four I think. Still haven’t found her. It- it feels like we’re so close , but this Hemlock guy… he covers his tracks.”
He stared at the goggles in his hands, wishing that… well, wishing that he wasn’t holding them. That he’d still be forbidden from touching them because “no, you’ll break them, Wrecker ” and “I don’t want to clean ration crumbs off of them”. He wished that at least the holorecorder on them would be activated remotely.
Wrecker sighed. “Echo’s been lookin’, but he’s busy fightin’ the Empire with Rex, too. Gettin’ clones out and keepin’ ‘em safe. Pretty sure he’s got somethin’ goin’ on with the senator, too. I’m proud’a him. Still miss ‘im though.” He glanced down the hallway, trying to listen as best he could. A soft snore reached his ears and he continued. “Hunter’s been– Maker , he’s been a mess. Not eatin’, barely ever sleeps. Finally got ‘im to take some meds. Doesn’ even talk much ‘less it’s to make deals.”
Wrecker’s shoulder twinged and he rolled it. “You use’ta tell us our age would catch up with us,” he chuckled. “I think I’m startin’ to get it. Stuff feels heavier. It’s gettin’ harder to keep Hunter outta trouble, too. Always pickin’ fights, runnin’ in without lookin’, tryin’ just find any trace’a her.”
He sat quietly, as if he was listening to one of Tech’s rambles about their accelerated aging or taking risks.
“Miss you. Wish you were–” he sniffed. “Wish I coulda pulled you up. ‘M sorry.”
He groaned slightly as he rose from the seat, setting the goggles back on their ledge, adjusting them until they were just so .
He made his way back to the cockpit, slouching into the copilot’s chair. He watched hyperspace streak past in the viewport, unable to stop himself from remembering the first time they’d jumped just after graduation, and unable to stop the tears streaking down his face.