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generaltano · 10 hours

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Breathless

After Crosshair nearly drowns in 3x07 - Extraction, the Batch head back to Pabu to rest and regroup. But the danger isn't over yet, and they'll need to work together to save one of their own. Crosshair angst, medical whump, hurt/comfort, family feels. Canon-compliant/missing scene, ~5100 words.

-----

The Remora was dark and quiet, the soft glow of emergency lights the only illumination. Crosshair tried to curl up into one of the narrow bunks, though his long legs made it an awkward fit. He’d stripped down to his under armor, but still couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Wrecker hadn’t even bothered trying, instead flinging down an emergency blanket on the floor and falling asleep beside Batcher in his full gear. The hound snored contentedly, her massive head resting on his thigh. Across the gap, Omega lay on her own borrowed bunk, the glint of her eyes revealing she was still awake.

“You ought to get some rest,” Crosshair said, stifling a cough. “You must be tired.”

Her smile was faint in the dark, but still unmistakable. “And you aren’t?”

“I’m laying down, aren’t I?” he retorted.

“Fair enough,” she said. She shifted, rolling over onto her back. “What do you think Hunter’s talking about with Rex and Echo?”

Howzer, Gregor, Rex and Hunter had stayed up in the cockpit with Echo. Crosshair’s hand fumbled at his side, though in the dark, he didn’t have to hide it. “Intelligence. Next steps.” He took a deep breath, his chest heavy. The Empire, still looking for Omega. Trying to take her back to --

He coughed again, trying to suppress it to keep from waking Batcher. Wrecker, he knew from long experience, could sleep through anything.

Omega sat up and peered at him, large eyes squinting in the dim light. “Are you all right, Crosshair? It was -- it looked close, back there.”

He waved his hand at her dismissively. “It’s been closer.”

Water rushing into his nose and mouth and throat, hands against his shoulders, feet pedaling uselessly --

He coughed again, rubbing his chest. “I’m fine.”

Even in the dark, her skeptical look was clear and deeply annoyed. The kid was nothing if not stubborn. She frowned at him. “What was wrong with him?”

“Who?” he asked, though he knew perfectly well. The shadow’s cold voice rippled through his mind, a frisson spreading through the cracks in the walls he’d put up around Tantiss. He took another deep breath.

“That operative. He was different,” she said slowly. “The others were scared of him, weren't they?”

He hesitated, but knew she’d keep asking if he didn’t give her something. “They erased his memory. He’s nothing now. Nobody.”

“The Empire can do that?” Omega whispered, horrified.

“Not the Empire,” said Crosshair dully. “Hemlock.”

She recoiled, and he knew he’d said too much, turned the conversation too dangerous. He shouldn’t have said it. Should have kept it locked in his head with the other things he didn’t dare name. Especially around the kid.

He rubbed his face, his breath coming more quickly. He must have been more tired than he’d thought. “Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I thought Tantiss was a prison, and endless tests. That’s all I ever saw of it. But there was more?” She scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand. “We have to get them out of there. We have to.”

His hand quaked, trapped in the crook of his elbow where he knew Omega couldn’t see it. He swallowed, tasting a hint of something metallic. He couldn’t keep talking about this. It was too much. Too close to what they’d done to him, what they’d tried to do to him, what they’d done to the others --

He blinked, mind going hazy. He could feel exhaustion creeping over him, threatening sleep any moment. “I’m sure they’re working on it,” he managed, trying to sound reassuring. “You’ve met Rex. They’re all brothers to him.”

“To us, too,” Omega said plaintively, but her voice went faint, and he drifted off into the dark.

-----

Crosshair stared defiantly into Hunter’s eyes, but the stunner took him by surprise. He’d been expecting the blaster bolt. He sank to his knees, mind blanking, and for a time he knew nothing.

Until cold salt water dripped onto his head, his face, into his nose and mouth. It poured in over his legs, creeping up his thighs, up to his waist. The shock of it took his breath away. He could feel it climbing, and around him, Omega and the medical droid panicked. His hands hammered at the debris trapping him, the water closing over his head -- the fear and the panic were crushing him --

Hands on his shoulders, hands on his shoulders, pressing him into the riverbed, cold freshwater smothering, hands flailing -- faltering --

You had your chance to be one of us

You had your chance

He was starving again like the platform on Kamino, the lack of food gnawing, roaring, ravening, until there would be nothing left of him -- but it was air, air he begged for, needed desperately, was dying for--

Hemlock’s features, painted in boney whites and dark shadows, looming under sickly green lights, sick smile twisting his face into something inhuman. CT-9904, you have been selected for a most important… opportunity…

Something skittering around the back of his mind, the thought that maybe this wasn’t just a dream -- that it was getting harder and harder to breathe, chest aching, breath short, throat raw --

You chose the wrong side --

-----

Hunter startled awake from the chair he’d been dozing on. He wasn’t sure what had awoken him at first. There was the hum of Echo’s ship around him, complex machinery and circuitry crackling together in an electromagnetic haze that he’d long thought of as the sound of hyperspace. There were quiet murmurs between Echo and Rex, tapping on the consoles from Howzer, Gregor humming a little tune under his breath. Further out he could hear the familiar heft of Wrecker’s breathing, and the newer sound of Batcher snoring loudly. But he couldn’t place Crosshair and Omega -- not at first.

There was a new sound, faint and muffled. Something like breathing, but off. He felt a twinge in his gut. Something wasn’t right.

He was halfway to the bunks when familiar footsteps closed the distance and Omega hurried out of the sleeping quarters, eyes wide. “Hunter, come quick. Something’s wrong with Crosshair.”

“What kind of wrong?” he asked sharply.

“He was coughing in his sleep,” she explained. “He told me earlier he was fine, but I woke him up when he kept coughing. We got him to sit up, but he can’t catch his breath. Wrecker’s with him --”

The door slid open. Someone had hit the lights, and he hissed at the sudden brightness after the muted dark, shielding his eyes with a hand. He blinked to recalibrate himself and saw Crosshair sitting awkwardly on the ground against his bunk, Wrecker beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Just breathe, Crosshair. It’s all right,” Wrecker said anxiously.

Batcher whined at them, pawing at Crosshair’s leg. He didn’t respond.

“Crosshair,” said Hunter, kneeling in front of him.

Crosshair turned to look at him with an effort, his face ashen. He was sitting up strangely, arms bent and propped up on his knees, hunched over himself. And he was breathing far too fast, shoulders heaving, mouth half-open. He closed his eyes with a grimace, but didn’t -- couldn’t -- speak.

Wrecker’s face was sheer worry. “He needs a medic, and we don’t got one,” he said urgently. “How far out are we from Pabu?”

Hunter tapped his comms. “Echo, we need a medikit. Now. Crosshair’s laid up, and it looks bad.”

“What happened?” Echo asked. “He seemed all right earlier --”

“He almost drowned back there. I don’t know, it must have been worse than we thought.” We should have checked him over when we boarded. Should have made sure -- “He needs oxygen. And we need a medic. How far are we from Pabu? AZI can treat him, but we need time.”

We’re not losing him now.

“Another hour. I’ll be right there. Rex, you handle things up here. Crosshair’s down.”

Rex’s voice, faint through the comms. “I’m on it.”

“Hunter, is he going to be okay?” Omega asked, crouching down beside Crosshair. She reached out, laying her hand on his shoulder. He pulled away in a wracking cough, hand flying up to try and cover his mouth. Clear but blood-tinged fluid spattered against his palm.

Hunter swore under his breath, recalling some of their early training. They’d all had basic field medic training, though Tech had been far and away the best at it, with Crosshair a distant second. It came back to him now, flickers of memory from the cadet days. Something to do with nearly drowning, a sort of secondary drowning that could hit later on and be just as deadly.

“He’ll be fine, Omega,” said Hunter automatically. He had to be. He couldn’t lose another brother --

Crosshair bowed over himself, coughing again, then trying to catch ragged breaths. “Right,” he gasped. “Fine.” He waved a hand weakly in front of him, as if trying to push them away, but hung his head. Hunter could hear the breaths rattling in his chest, wet and heavy and difficult.

“Hey, take it easy,” Wrecker warned. “Stop sassing.”

“Wrecker!” Omega exclaimed indignantly.

“Well, he was, weren’t you, Crosshair?” Wrecker asked, giving him an anxious but hopeful smile.

Crosshair nodded slightly, then closed his eyes, rubbing at his chest with one hand.

Wrecker laughed, though it was a far cry from his usual booming laughter. “See? He’ll be all right, kid.” He lowered his voice, then leaned towards Crosshair’s ear. “You’ll be all right.”

The door slid open and Echo strode in, medikit tucked under his arm. “Let me get in there, take a look.” They wordlessly moved aside, making space for Echo to kneel beside him.

Echo worked quickly, throwing open the medikit and handing an oxygen mask and concentrator to Hunter to assemble. He pieced it together and went to press the mask to Crosshair’s face, but Crosshair shook him off irritably and grabbed the mask himself, digging his face into it and clawing the straps into place over his head.

They watched him tensely as he breathed hard into the mask. His eyes slid closed for a moment, the tension in his face easing. His color looked less muddy already.

The scanner in Echo’s hand lit up in red, alarms beeping. “Scanner says there’s fluid in the lungs. Oxygen saturation’s down. I don’t think I’ve got anything here that would help besides the oxygen, but…” He examined the numbers, then peered at Crosshair’s face. “Vitals are improving on the oxygen. I think if he stays stable like this, he’ll be all right to get to AZI.”

“Thank you, Echo,” Omega said, tears in her eyes. She let out a long sigh, hugging herself, and Hunter laid a hand on her shoulder. She leaned against him, giving him a watery smile, and he drew her close.

She can’t lose another brother, either.

”How’re you feeling now?” Wrecker asked eagerly.

Crosshair squinted his eyes open, coughing again. Reddish fluid clung to the inside of the oxygen mask. He glared at it. “Not dead… yet,” he bit out.

”Don’t try to talk,” Echo said as the scanner flashed red again. “You just work on breathing.” He glanced around. “You want to stay down here? We could move you back to the bed.”

Crosshair shook his head, leaning forward, stretching his neck out to get more air. Hunter felt sick. Helpless.

Like he had after Eriadu —

He found himself speaking to Echo. “You focus on getting us back to Pabu. We’ll stay with him.”

“Take it easy, Crosshair,” said Echo, handing the scanner over to Hunter. He reached out, holding Crosshair’s shoulder and giving him a quiet nod. “A little cough won’t take you out. You’re too stubborn for that.”

Crosshair attempted a faint smirk, though the effect was muted by the mask over his nose and mouth. Echo turned back to Hunter. “Make sure he keeps that thing on, and keep him quiet. Chatterbox like him, talking’ll just make things worse.”

Hunter smiled slightly. He’d missed Echo’s sarcasm. “We’ll keep the conversation to a minimum.”

“We’re on it,” Wrecker agreed.

Echo got to his feet and headed back to the cockpit. Batcher whuffed sadly, inching closer to Crosshair until her chin rested on top of his foot. The hound really had taken to him, even though Omega had told him how she’d been the one to tame her. He guessed Batcher and Crosshair had that much in common.

Omega crawled back beside Crosshair, leaning her head against the bed behind them. She looked up at him hopefully, but he hadn’t noticed, face screwing up with effort again, eyes tightly closed. The sound of his breathing, wet and rattling and wrong, was overwhelming in Hunter’s ears.

Hunter stared down at the scanner in his hands, running it over Crosshair again. Oxygen was still well below normal, but the sensor flashed a warning yellow instead of a blaring red. He sighed. He could deal with that.

He glanced up, seeing a small shift out of the corner of his eye. Omega reached out, patting Crosshair’s shoulder, then leaving her hand there. Crosshair glanced at her, but did not move away.

Hunter watched them, a painful mix of emotions tumbling in the back of his mind. He trusted Echo’s read that Crosshair was going to make it back to Pabu, and he knew AZI had been able to pull them back from serious injury before. But that still didn’t make it any easier to see his brother so vulnerable, shoulders and chest heaving with the struggle to breathe.

And seeing Omega being so kind to him, her empathy boundless, hurt in a different way. Seeing Crosshair with her hand on his shoulder, after remembering how he’d bristled toward her and pushed her away before, was so good. But knowing that Crosshair could have been with them in the beginning if it hadn’t been for the chip, that he could have gotten to know Omega all along with the rest of them, that neither of them would have had to go through the experiments on Tantiss if things had been different —

Hunter let out a long, even breath through his nostrils, willing his mind to settle.

Wrecker had started talking, probably trying to distract Crosshair and Omega. “This is nothing. Remember the time that grenade knocked you out for two days?”

Crosshair flicked his eyes over to Wrecker, then rolled them expertly, as if to say Of course I don’t, I was knocked out.

“Oh! Right!”

“What happened?” Omega asked curiously.

”Well, battle droids are usually idiots, right? We were on this backwater Separatist world. Forget the name. Crosshair was way up on the hill in cover, picking them off one by one. Decimating them! You should have seen him. Really in his element,” Wrecker said proudly, spreading his hands wide as if to paint the picture of the battlefield. “But this platoon had a tactical droid on their side. Must have figured out we had a sniper in the mix and triangulated his position. Sent a grenade up —“ Wrecker winced.

Hunter remembered it well. Their mad scramble up the hillside, their comms crackling —

“Crosshair!”

“He’s not responding —“

“We don’t leave anyone behind —“

Tech had been the one to find him, his voice urgent. “He’s down. We need to get him to a medic —“

He shook away the image of Crosshair limp on the ground, helmet blasted ten feet away, blood from his ears streaking his silver hair.

Hunter cleared his throat. “We got him out safely,” he said, continuing the story. “Wrecker carried him, and Tech and I covered them until we got back to the ship. We thought he was a goner.”

”But he was okay —“ Omega said.

”Clearly,” Crosshair muttered, though there was a hint of a smile at the edges of his mouth.

”Woke up two days later on Kamino, asking for a toothpick,” Wrecker said. “Nothing ever keeps you down for long, Cross. Hell, tomorrow you’ll probably be back to normal and all annoyed we were worried about you.”

”I’m annoyed now,” Crosshair wheezed. The scanner flashed red, and Hunter shook his head.

”Hey, watch it,” he said warningly, holding up the scanner. He shifted where he sat, sighing. “Wish you’d have said something before it got this bad,” he said before he could stop himself.

Crosshair shrugged slightly. This time when he spoke, it was slowly, with deep breaths between each word. His vitals stayed yellow instead of dipping back into red. “I thought — it was nothing.” He paused, closed his eyes, breathed deeper. “I don’t like to complain.”

”You complain about everything!” Hunter exclaimed, exasperated. At least this was Crosshair as he remembered him. “You couldn’t have mentioned you couldn’t breathe?”

”Hunter,” Omega said. “It wasn’t like this when we got on board. It got worse later.”

Crosshair gestured to Omega, as if to say, See?

“All right, all right. Sorry, Crosshair.”

”Ahhh, you’re just worried about him,” Wrecker said warmly. He reached out, giving Hunter a nudge. He had to admit Wrecker had a point.

Echo’s voice came through on Hunter’s comms. “We’re dropping out of hyperspace. How’s he doing?”

”Stable. Except when he’s a chatterbox,” said Hunter. “We’ll go for AZI once we land.”

The ship shifted out of hyperspace, Hunter’s stomach swooping with the familiar sensation. “Wrecker, you run and get AZI. Tell him what happened to Crosshair, his symptoms. Omega and I will stay here. Make sure he brings any supplies he’s got, and a stretcher, too.”

”On it,” said Wrecker, getting to his feet. “Hang in there, Cross.” He headed out to the main cabin, leaving Hunter, Omega and Batcher alone with Crosshair.

He heard the landing gear descend, felt the ship settle to the ground. One step closer to helping their brother.

The wait felt interminably long, though it was only a few minutes. Batcher whined, wagging her tail, her homely face looking almost concerned. Omega reached out and patted her, though her eyes were fixed on Crosshair.

Hunter watched them both closely. The scanner still read yellow, but Hunter felt more uneasy with every passing moment. Crosshair’s breathing rattled in the quiet, the rate steadily rising.

He coughed again suddenly, so violently that he doubled over himself, gagging and choking. Hunter was there in a flash, dropping the scanner and whipping the oxygen mask off so Crosshair could cough up reddish-clear foam onto the floor. Batcher whimpered. The scanner alarmed from the floor, red lights flashing on the screen.

Crosshair slumped forward. Hunter caught him from hitting the floor, keeping his head facing down, fluid leaking from his nose. “Kriff,” he swore, pulling off his scarf and mopping his brother’s face with it, then shoving the oxygen mask back over his mouth and nose. “Breathe for me, Cross, come on.”

”Crosshair!” Omega cried, picking up the sensor and watching it anxiously. “He’s back in the red. Hunter, what do we do?”

Crosshair gasped, jerking upright. One hand clawed at his chest, the other at the oxygen mask, knocking it off. “Can’t -- breathe —“ he sputtered, flailing. Hunter pinned his hands to his sides as Crosshair struggled, his breathing growing harsher with every breath, his lips going blue. He’s panicking, Hunter realized. They needed help —

The doors opened, AZI floating in and Wrecker close behind with a collapsible stretcher in his hands. “Hell —“ Wrecker exclaimed.

Omega scrambled out of the way as AZI darted forward to Crosshair’s side. AZI scanned him, then hovered close and injected Crosshair with something in the hip. Crosshair struggled in Hunter’s arms for a few more breaths.

Did it work? Hunter wondered.

Then he felt his brother relaxing, Crosshair’s arms drooping into his lap. Crosshair felt suddenly boneless, his face slack, eyes half-open, but his breathing came more easily. Hunter pulled the oxygen mask back into place and sat back beside him, one arm around his shoulders, keeping him upright.

“What did you give him?” Hunter asked.

”A mild sedative,” said AZI. “It is common for delirium to occur in respiratory distress. This will allow him to breathe more freely without the sensation and fear of drowning.”

“He felt like he was drowning?” Omega whispered.

”Yes,” said AZI matter-of-factly. “Sentients report the sensation of pulmonary edema is most consistent with the sensation of drowning. It may cause an intense fear response and irrational behavior.”

“But is he going to be all right?” Wrecker interjected.

Crosshair mumbled something unintelligible, sagging against Hunter. AZI swiveled, checking his vitals once more.

“Yes, with time, rest, and oxygenation. But had you not provided adequate oxygenation in transit he may not have survived this journey.”

A wave of cold passed over Hunter. If we hadn’t heard him….

He shook it away, gazing at Crosshair’s face. But they had heard him, they’d gotten him treatment.

He was going to be all right. That was enough.

-----

Crosshair slowly came back to himself. Where was he? There was something on his face, a strange sensation in his chest. Through his closed eyes he sensed it was late morning, bright sunlight just on the other side of his awareness. Something had gone wrong. What was it --

He reached up, touching the thing on his face. An oxygen mask. He focused on it, on the sensation of cool, scentless air blowing softly against his skin, the way it felt to breathe in. It seemed to be harder than it should be, requiring thought and effort for each breath, but he also had the distinct sensation that this was better than before.

He cautiously cracked open his eyelids, keeping them half-lidded to guard against the bright sunlight streaming in through a nearby window. He gazed around. Wrecker, Hunter, Omega and Echo sat against the walls of the small room, having apparently fallen asleep where they sat.

He swallowed, his eyes stinging. It was coming back to him now in flashes --

“Crosshair! Crosshair, wake up! Can you hear me? Wrecker, help, something’s wrong with Crosshair --”

“Here, I got you. Just breathe, Crosshair, it’s all right --”

Hunter’s face grave, fear in his eyes --

Echo’s hand on his shoulder -- like Skako Minor --

Blind panic, he couldn’t breathe hard enough for what he needed, he was frantic, desperate, he was dying --

“Sentients report the sensation of pulmonary edema is most consistent with the sensation of drowning --”

“You’re awake,” Hunter murmured. He stirred, slowly unfolding himself and getting to his feet. He sat down on the end of Crosshair’s bed, tilting his head to look at him. He looked exhausted. “How do you feel? I can get the droid.”

Crosshair shook his head. “Better.” He took a deep breath. He felt something like crackling, deep in his chest, but nothing like the terrible crushing pressure from last night. He spoke carefully, slowly, and the heaviness in his chest stayed manageable. “Where are we?”

“Back on Pabu,” Hunter said, keeping his voice down for the sleepers. “You started having trouble on the way back from Teth. I… I guess that fight at the waterfall was worse than it seemed.”

Crosshair turned his face away, blanching.

“Sorry,” said Hunter. “I guess I wouldn’t want to think about it either.”

“It’s… fine,” he said stiffly. He glanced at the others, fast asleep. “Worried?”

“Yeah, we were,” Hunter said. “AZI said it was close. If Omega hadn’t woken you up and gotten help, it might have gone differently.”

Crosshair smiled slightly. That kid. She really did manage to act like she was the older one. It didn’t surprise him; just another way he owed her. “Lucky she was there.”

“Yeah.” Hunter rubbed his face with one hand. “Glad you’re doing better.” He let out a long sigh, glancing around the room at Echo, Wrecker and Omega fast asleep. Batcher was at their feet, sleeping just as deeply. “Huh. Almost makes me think of old times.”

Crosshair knew what he meant instantly. “‘Sleepovers,’” he managed before coughing deeply, reflexively making a fist despite the oxygen mask between his hand and his mouth. “Like on Kamino.”

Hunter’s eyes widened slightly in concern, before his facial expression relaxed once more. He nodded at the term, Wrecker’s name for their habit. “Any time one of us was sent to the hospital wing. Remember how it used to drive the medical droids crazy?”

“Sneaking in,” Crosshair managed. “As cadets.” The four of them had been so isolated from the regs that missing any one of them had been too much. He remembered swearing on it with the others, small hands stacked atop each other’s, a fierce vow to never leave one of them behind.

How many cycles had they had by then? Three, maybe four? They’d held fast to it, whether it was a hospital stay for observations on their enhancements or recovery after an injury (with Wrecker, injuries were sometimes a monthly affair). It had got to where the droids stopped bothering trying to usher them out, and had simply accepted that if one came, the others followed.

Hunter shook his head. “Reminds me of the Firepuncher incident.”

Crosshair groaned. “You would.”

The tips of his ears flushed warmly. He’d been the size of an unenhanced thirteen-year-old -- if taller and lankier than the others his age -- the first time the armory technician had set a 773 Firepuncher into his arms. “I’m not so sure about this,” the technician had warned, his reg’s face skeptical until Crosshair showed him his training statistics and certifications on a variety of other weapons. The Firepuncher was next up on his list to learn, and he’d been raring to try it for months. “Still, though, watch for that kick.”

“I’ll be fine,” Crosshair had said confidently. He remembered hefting the rifle, checking his stance, his breathing, his steadiness. It was awfully heavy. But he raised his face close to the scope, took aim --

Crack. The target glowed, smoking with a decent shot. But Crosshair was flat on the ground, gasping, pain radiating through his neck and arm.

Hunter’s chuckle broke him from his reverie. “I remember how stubborn you were. Insisted it was the only rifle you’d use from here on out, even though it broke your collarbone.”

“It’s a good weapon.” Crosshair scowled. He’d felt mortified, wrapped up in a sling after his scan, furious that he wasn’t stronger like Wrecker. He’d been determined at that point to master it.

“We were all impressed, you know.”

“Huh.” He supposed Hunter was right. He saw them back on Kamino, crowded around his bed. Wrecker had been crowing about how he’d graduated to the serious blasters, Hunter was grinning proudly at him, and Tech had eagerly explained the specifications of the Firepuncher and its customization options, full of ideas for how Crosshair could use it in the future.

But Tech wasn’t against the wall now, head resting on Wrecker’s shoulder or bent over his datapad. It made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the cough or the oxygen mask.

“This isn’t…” He wheezed. “... so impressive.”

“You survived. That’s everything, Crosshair.” Hunter looked down at his hands, considering. “And he didn’t. No one could have survived going over those falls.”

No one. Right? His hand shook.

A sound from across the room caused them both to turn. “Crosshair?” Omega asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “You’re awake?”

“Yes.”

She got to her feet, hurrying to his side and laying her hand on his arm. It still startled him, how small her hands were, how strangely comforting it felt, feeling her hand rest against his arm. She beamed up at him.

“You look a lot better,” she said brightly. Beside her, Batcher put a huge paw on the bed, panting happily.

“Agreed,” said Hunter. “But we should probably let him rest --”

“Crosshair!” Wrecker boomed. He towered over Omega. He reached out and slapped Crosshair on the shoulder, much more gently than usual. “See! Knew you wouldn’t be down for long.”

“It’s the stubbornness,” Echo said, yawning. “Keeps him going.”

“If you only knew,” Crosshair said. Wrecker roared with laughter, and the others grinned, relief clear on their faces.

Crosshair took another deep breath, his chest feeling a little clearer, his breathing a little easier.

He remembered the days after Bracca, not a single visit from his new unit, his head throbbing from the burns and the removal of the chip, nothing to do but stare at the sterile white walls of the Kaminoan medical wing. He remembered his recovery ward on Coruscant after he was rescued from that platform; long endless rotations of barely being able to eat, his body still struggling to process food again, medical droids his only visitors. He remembered Tantiss, given a few meager days to recover from frostbite and exposure and injury before the torture began, Emerie’s dispassionate face, Hemlock’s mocking, measured tones.

Omega shifted her hand, resting it on his. It was trembling again, but the weight of her hand helped keep it still. She gave him a small, quiet smile while the others laughed and talked amongst themselves.

He nodded a soft thank you to her, then looked up at all of them as the door opened.

“Greetings! It is time for CT-9904’s vitals to be assessed,” AZI announced. “He has been steadily improving through the night, and should recover fully.” His head swiveled from side to side at the small crowd around the bed, and they hastily stepped aside, making room for him. “CT-9904, would you prefer privacy as you recover? I can insist they leave for your wellbeing, if that is required.”

They looked at him. Crosshair took another deep breath, swallowing, and waved a hand. “They can stay,” he rasped. “As long as they keep it down.”

“Very well!” AZI chirped.

As the droid took his readings, Crosshair glanced around at them, Batcher wagging near the foot of the bed, Omega rumpled and happy, Wrecker trying and failing to stay on the quiet side, Echo wearing a dry, relaxed grin, Hunter watching him with only a hint of worry still on his face. He caught Hunter’s eye, holding out his hand and twitching his fingers.

Hunter laughed softly. “Unbelievable.” He turned, rummaging in the stack of Crosshair’s armor and supplies piled up near the bed. He came back around, pressing a toothpick into Crosshair’s hand.

“Thanks,” he said. He slipped the oxygen mask up for a moment, bit down on the toothpick, and adjusted the mask back into place. It was awkward, but if he angled the toothpick just right, it worked.

“Now he’s back,” Wrecker laughed.

Crosshair leaned back against his pillow, taking care to stay upright, closing his eyes and working the toothpick in his teeth. A small smile quirked the edges of his mouth.

Yes. He was back, wasn’t he?

His breath crackled faintly in his chest, a reminder of how close things had been. He knew there was still danger -- Hemlock hunting Omega, the shadow operatives and the secrets they carried, the tremor twisting his hand even now, weeks out of Tantiss.

But Crosshair took a deep breath. He was still here to fight another day.

And he wasn’t alone.

#AHHHHHH #i adore this #family bonding for mr grumpy sniper #tbb crosshair #tbb #fave fics

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