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He will not lose another brother.
Not again.
However, fate does not give weight to conviction.
That is why he is sitting next to a dying brother in a still smoldering crater on a battlefield. He cradles Crosshair’s upper torso in his arms, calling for backup. But help isn’t coming. Not in time.
Not another brother.
Crosshair coughs, an awful wet sound in his lungs. “Echo?” he chokes out.
“Hey,” Echo says, pulling Crosshair closer, “Don’t worry. Help is coming. Tech will know what to do. He always does. That’s what his big brain is for, right?”
“Can’t…” Crosshair begins, but he coughs again, cutting himself off.
Echo shakes his head. “Don’t talk like that.”
Crosshair blinks up at him sluggishly, eyes dull.
“No, no,” Echo growls, shaking him as gently as he can while still rousing the man, “Who said you could rest, yet? We’re still on the field. You have to stay awake. Got it?”
“‘M already dead,” Crosshair breathes, his distinctively sharp voice blunted.
“Stop,” Echo tells him, ARC voice low and threatening. “Don’t give up.”
“Imma lost cause,” Crosshair continues weakly, a humorless smirk twisting his bloodstained lips. “No hope for me.”
“There’s always hope,” Echo says hoarsely. “Look at me. I was dead too, wasn’t I? You boys saved me, and we’re going to save you too.”
Crosshair laughs, the sound morose, spiteful and damp. “Better get to it then, reg,” he spits out, blunted voice now sharpened, dripping venom.
**
Echo wakes with his arms empty, his brother lost.
He tries to steady his breathing, so that Tech, sitting across from him, won’t notice. But the engineer’s focus is entirely consumed by the device to locate their inhibitor chips.
To locate Crosshair’s chip.
There’s always hope.
We’re going to save you too.