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In hindsight, Scorch probably should have realized something was up earlier. Sure, it was weird that Fixer had taken to wearing his buy'ce in the barracks and the like, but Fixer was weird, so it hadn't seemed like that big of a deal at the time.
It probably still wouldn't have warranted more than a passing jibe or two, except now Scorch was rapidly running out of ammo trying to keep the droids off them both while his brother fumbled with the door lock mechanism like some kind of tubie.
"Problem, Four-Oh?" Boss's voice cut in over the comms. "We're taking a lot of heavy fire."
Fixer pulled on one of the wires in the exposed panel, letting out a string of curses under his breath as a spark of electricity arced to where his hand had just been. "Almost got it, sir, just-"
He fumbled for another wire, and this time, the door slid open. "Got it."
Scorch nodded, firing off a grenade before ducking into the bunker for cover. "You know, bombs are a lot faster than…"
He trailed off, frowning as he watched his brother fiddle with something on his helmet. "Fix, you good? Did they get you?"
"Don't worry about it," Fixer growled, abruptly pulling his hands away. "Just focus on the mission."
"That's exactly the sort of thing you'd say if you were about to pass out," Scorch said doubtfully.
"The charges, Six-Two."
"Okay, okay!" Scorch said, raising his hands in the air in a gesture of mock surrender, "whatever you say, Four-Oh."
Despite his brother's 'reassurance', Scorch pulled up Fixer's vitals and pinned them to his HUD just in case. He could watch them while he laid the demo charges, see if he couldn't figure out what was going on with his brother.
"Charges set," Scorch announced, "ready to-"
Too late, he caught sight of the B2 approaching them, rockets armed and ready. "Four-Oh, B2, left!"
Fixer spun around, his shots going wide as the droid closed the gap between them. "Shab'la-"
Scorch dove for his brother, knocking them both to the ground as the bunker exploded around them.
Scorch let out a groan, rolling sideways off of his brother's back. He would have a hell of a headache later, he suspected, but a quick scan revealed he still had all his fingers and toes, so that was good.
"Hey, Fixy," Scorch said, poking at his brother experimentally. He still had Fixer's vitals pinned to his HUD, which is why he suspected his brother was lying face down on the duracrete on purpose, rather than due to injury. "You all right in there?"
Fixer growled back at him, cursing in several different languages as he pushed himself upright.
"You're welcome, by the way," Scorch said drily, "since I saved your shebs from being disintegrated in a fiery ball of death and all."
"We should get to the rendezvous," Fixer said, rising to his feet. "The others will be waiting for us."
"Hold on," Scorch said, crossing his arms over his chest. "First, you're going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you."
"I told you-"
"Cut the osik, Four-Oh," Scorch snapped, his patience wearing thin. "You're the one who's always bullying us into looking after ourselves, but somehow now that you're the liability, you get to keep it to yourself?"
"I'm not a liability!" Fixer hissed, slamming Scorch into the bunker wall. "I just need to recalibrate my visor and-"
"Four-Oh, Six-Two, do you read me?"
Scorch let out a sigh of relief as Fixer abruptly dropped him. "Loud and clear, sir. Targets neutralized."
"That's one way of putting it," Sev added, "as if you didn't nearly blast yourselves into orbit."
"We'll be doing a full debrief once we're aboard the transport," Boss said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "so I expect you both to have a report for me."
"Great!" Scorch said cheerfully. "Can't wait."
"So," Boss said, glaring at each of them in turn. "What happened?"
"Before we get to that," Scorch said, pointedly ignoring the way Fixer was trying to shoot a hole through him with his eyeballs, "I think Fixer has a concussion."
Boss raised an eyebrow, turning to look at Fixer. "Do you, Four-Oh?"
"Of course not," Fixer snapped.
"Prove it, then," Scorch said. "Tell us why it took you three fucking minutes to slice a door panel, Fix."
"You know that's not-"
"How many fingers am I holding up," Sev interrupted, waving his middle finger in Fixer's face.
"One," Fixer said flatly, but, at least to Scorch, it looked like his composure was finally starting to crack.
Switching tactics, Scorch said, "you know we just want to help, right?"
"He's right, Fix," Boss said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let us help you."
Fixer sucked in a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the deck plates in front of him. "One… maybe more than slightly blurry finger."
"Wait," Scorch said, frowning slightly. "You do actually have a concussion? I was just making-"
"I don't have a karking concussion, Six-Two!" Fixer snapped. "This is… unrelated."
Sev squinted at him for a moment, then announced, "so you're going blind, then."
"I'm not going blind, di'kut," Fixer replied venomously, although just for a second, his voice wavered enough that Scorch wasn't entirely sure his brother believed that to be true, "it's just a temporary eye condition. That I'm handling."
"Which has worked out so well for us, hasn't it," Scorch muttered, earning himself a scathing look from Fixer.
Boss arched an eyebrow, pointedly ignoring Scorch's jab. "And how long have you been 'handling' it?"
"… A couple of months," Fixer admitted.
"Since you started wearing your buy'ce in the barracks?" Sev asked drily.
"I made some adjustments to the optical filters to compensate, yes."
Boss let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face. "And today?"
"One of the EMP grenades must have reset it," Fixer said, looking down again. "I have a backup on my datapad-"
"-But it's hard to restore those settings in the middle of a firefight," Scorch finished, earning another glare from his brother. "You could have said something."
"Why don't you just get corrective lenses?" Sev asked. "Like all those Nat-borns on the holo-programs."
"And where, exactly, do you propose I do that?"
Sev shrugged. "You could always steal them."
Boss let out another long sigh. "I agree that we need to do something, but I'm not sure-"
"I, for one, like Sev's plan," Scorch interrupted. "It'll be fun."
"Except for the part where I don't know what prescription I would need, the part where the lenses would almost certainly get damaged in the field…" Fixer swallowed, his voice dropping low. "And if it doesn't go away, I won't pass my next physical."
"It won't come to that," Boss said firmly, placing a hand on Fixer's shoulder. Turning to face the others, he added, "I want both of you back here in an hour with suggestions -preferably alternatives that don't involve breaking and entering."
Scorch nodded. "We're on it, Boss."
"Fixer, get your visor mods back up and running again for now, but I want solutions that don't rely on everything working perfectly."
"Yes, sir," Fixer replied, the tiniest of smiles appearing on his face.
"And Fix?"
"Yes?"
"Next time, just fucking tell us."