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The groan Crosshair let out as he woke cut short when it only sent pain through shooting through his head. Instead, he simply rolled over to face the wall, ignoring how that movement made the pain flare worse. He felt Batcher shuffle at the foot of the bed. The pain had finally begun to die down enough to let him try to sleep, when the door to his room slid open.
“Morning, Crosshair!” Omega called, way too jovially. “We’re about to go, you ready?” He was just glad she didn’t bound into the room like she usually did, instead staying in the doorway. He stayed silent, hoping she’d get the point and leave before the light she was letting into the room made him claw his eyes out. Or throw up. Another set of footsteps approached the doorway.
“Leave him be, Omega. He’s not feeling up for it today.”
He could almost feel Hunter’s concern as he spoke. He knew the signs of a bad day. They all did because they all had them. Omega was still learning what Crosshair’s meant.
“Okay.” Omega said sadly. “Feel better, Cross.”
With that, they left and the door slid closed behind them. He let out a long sigh of relief at the darkness. The Bad Batch had been helping Shep set up for a festival being held at the end of the week, and after spending three whole days in a row working in the unrelentingly bright Pabu sun, Crosshair was feeling it. He’d felt the migraine creeping in yesterday, but had been able to push it aside to help out. Omega had been keen to show him the banners and decorations she and Lyanna had made, and he’d ended up sticking around and making a few himself. It had felt good to paint again, but the bright light and focusing on something so close for so long were not his friends.
At some point he drifted off, hoping the sleep would help with the pain. It didn’t. He woke to a strong wave of nausea. He shifted to try to get comfortable, only to send a sharp lance of pain through his head, the nausea getting worse with it. He tensed with a hiss of pain, squeezing his eyes closed, trying in vain to massage away some of the pressure, digging his fingers into the worst spots around his eyes.
He felt Batcher shift on the bed beside him, hopping down to stand in front of him with a quiet growl. He reached his hand out and gave her a pat, debating if he really needed to move. Another wave of nausea that had him almost gagging got him moving. He quickly pushed himself up, trying his best ignore the pain as he steadied himself with Batcher and let her guide him to the fresher.
He kept his eyes squeezed tightly closed as they moved into the main part of the house, light and sound filtering in through the open windows. They made it to the fresher right as the nausea won. Stumbling inside, he hunched over the toilet and heaved, sending spikes of pain through his head and neck with each. Tears blurred his vision and his body trembled as it fought him.
Eventually, the heaving slowed and he slumped back against the wall, feeling too unsteady to get up. He slowly slid down the wall as he accepted his new home, pressing the point of the worst pain against the cool tile. Batcher haruffed from where she sat by the door, but he just grumbled something to her and tried to relax, staying still on the cold tile floor as the pain in his head abated enough to let him sleep.
Crosshair groaned and blinked his eyes open, quickly squeezing them closed again at the bright light. He heard a voice above him and felt a small hand on his shoulder. He pushed it away and turned over with a groan, letting the other side of his face rest on a new section of cold tiles. His stomach rolled when the movement caused another spike of pain, reminding him why he was there.
He ignored the pestering voice, content to stay where he was, until the roll became a roiling. He sat up quickly and made it to the toilet just in time, the trembling start up again as his body rebelled. A small hand began rubbing his back as he heaved, letting out occasional small sounds of pain when he got the breath for it. The pain was unrelenting, like a nail was being driven into his eye with every minute movement.
The small hands helped him sit back against the wall once the heaving stopped. He sat there catching his breath until he felt Batcher’s head in his lap and a hand on his shoulder.
“Migraine?” Omega asked, quietly.
Crosshair nodded, aborting it with a grimace when it sent another lance of pain through him.
“What do you need?”
To be left to suffer in peace, he thought venomously. “Dark. Quiet.” He said quietly, hating how his voice wavered.
“Come on, your bed is way more comfortable than here.”
Despite how reasonable Omega’s gentle request was, he whined in protest. His body still felt weak and shaky from throwing up, the nausea still lurked dangerously, and he knew that getting up to walk would only mean more pain.
Omega tugged gently at his arm, and he felt Batcher get up to slide into place under his hand. “Come on, little brother. You’ll feel better in a bed. I won’t make you move anymore when we get there.”
He still stayed stubbornly on the floor, and she finally relented. Omega sighed quietly.
“Does it hurt too much to move?” She asked.
He just let out a long groan he hoped she’d take as a yes.
“Are there any meds you usually take?”
Crosshair scowled at that. He hated needing to take meds. He’d gotten through the war just fine, he shouldn’t need them just because it was a little sunny outside.
“It’s alright to need them, Crosshair.” Omega said gently, as if she could read his mind. Or maybe he was just becoming too predictable for her, kid was too perceptive sometimes. He felt her hand on his shoulder again. “Wrecker had to take some today too.”
He let out a long, shaky sigh, cracking his eyes open to see Omega’s concerned face in front of him. He closed them again and conceded. “In the cupboard, next to Wrecker’s.”
He heard Omega get up and quietly rummage for the hypos before her hand returned to his shoulder. She gave him a quiet warning before she injected the hypo into his neck. Almost immediately, the pain lessened a little. After a sitting there a few moments, he felt like he could try getting back to his room.
He moved his hand to rest more firmly on Batcher’s back and let Omega help him to his feet. He swayed on the spot, steadying himself against the wall as they waited out the wave of dizziness. Once it passed, they made the trip back to his room. He clenched his jaw against the pain the movement and the light from the main area of the house caused, despite keeping his eyes tightly shut. When they made it to his room, he lowered himself onto his bed, careful not to move too quickly. Omega shut the door as soon as they entered and he sighed in relief at the almost total darkness.
He heard Omega shuffling around the room while Batcher settled at the foot of the bed again, her head resting on his legs. The door slid open and closed with quiet wooshes as she left. The pain spiked at the sound of the toilet flushing, and he rolled onto his side, curling up against the unrelenting nausea.
He dozed there for a while as the meds kicked in properly until the door whooshed open again, signalling Omega’s return. He dared to crack his eyes open to see her approaching the bed with an armful of supplies. She set a bucket down beside the bed and laid the rest of the things out on the side table.
She nudged him and he sat up just enough to drink when she offered him a canteen. He tasted the electrolytes mixed into the water from the packets in the kitchen. He took a few sips before setting it on the table and settling back down. He saw a small packet of crackers on the table, and was grateful she didn’t make him try to eat any yet.
Once he settled back down and got comfortable, she tapped his shoulder. He cracked his eyes open again to see her holding out a cloth. He hummed an affirmative, slipping his eyes closed and letting her lay the cool cloth over them. A sigh of relief escaped him, and he heard Omega let out a quiet giggle.
“Need anything else?” She whispered.
Maybe when they got back, he’d get Hunter to give him a massage, the meds doing little to help the pressure from the migraine, and his poor attempt earlier hadn’t helped much. He hummed a negative. Despite that, he didn’t hear the door open and close. He huffed and reached out an arm to where he’d seen her standing, pulling her closer. She took the invitation and climbed up to curl next to him. He kept a protective arm over her and let the meds and his exhaustion drag him down to sleep.