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fakegingerrights · 11 months

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Walk by Faith (1)

[Crosshair x Medic!reader. TW for nonsexual nudity and showering, medical procedures, blindness, seizures, angst, mentions of self harm and suicide.]

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“They call themselves: The Bad Batch.”

Crosshair panted, too bright, always too bright. Too cold hands of a kaminoan, their distinct medical smell and rubbery skin grabbing at his face to pry his eyelids open.

Crosshair screamed.

“A group of clones with ‘desirable mutations.’”

He wasn’t alone, of course. Hunter hated the lights too, his heightened senses making laboratory settings living hell for him. Tech’s constant testing for recall speed and IQ and the sheer amount of information crammed into his head often left him mumbling for hours, unable to think enough to remember his own name. Wrecker spent his nights in agony, growing pain was bad for all of them but his was worse, often spending nights in a drugged sleep to keep him from screaming as his limbs stretched and muscles tightened.

Now he sat in darkness. Alone. Not surrounded by the familiar groans and sighs of his brothers, alone in their own misery but at least present.

“Clone force 99 has been listed as traitors to the empire. Shoot to kill.”

Crosshair never missed. Never. But standing across from his brothers on that platform, watching as Hunter dragged Omega onto the Marauder, and he couldn’t do it.

It’s what got him to where he was now.

“CT-9904?” The new medic wasn’t a clone. The voice was feminine, but the thick bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing your face. “I’m your assigned optician. I’m here to check how your eyes are accepting the new artificial lenses?”

There’s the sound of footsteps approaching. Crosshair didn’t have ears as good as Hunter, but he had spend enough time blind folded to have a good grasp on using his ears to the fullest.

“I’m going to touch your face now, please try to hold still.” You warned him. Crosshair went stone still, barely even breathing as soft hands brushed his face, deftly undoing the bandages that covered his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear his vision as his heart leapt into his throat.

“You’re doing this in the dark?” He asked, his voice hoarse, even though he already knew the answer.

“No. Until we’re sure your eyes have adjusted to the lenses, you’re on neural blockers to prevent you from consciously using your eyes. it wouldn't be anything more than a blurry mess anyways until they've settled. It should only be a day or two” You explained, a hand coming up to cup his cheek, thumb resting on the bottom of his tattoo, a slight warmth signifying a handheld light flitting across your face. “That’s quite the spot for a tattoo. The work on the eyelid is done well.” You remarked. Crosshair gritted his teeth. As glad as he was to not have a kaminoan working on him, natborns always talked too much.

“Tech did it.” He ground out. You hummed, pulling back sore eyelids to look under them.

“Tech?”

“CT-9902.” He spat the number out.

“Ah, I saw his file briefly. They contacted me to work on his goggles. Now hold still.” You commanded firmly, and Crosshair again went still as something itchy brushed across the surface of his actual eye, then the other one. “You have a name?”

“Crosshair.” Cross gritted out again. The new medic was getting on his nerves, but a small part of him was grateful. Since his squad decided to betray their empire, he hadn’t spoken this much to anyone in weeks.

“Oh! Like your tattoo?” There’s the sound of a tube opening.

“Yes, like the tattoo.”

“That’s really neat. I have a similar one, kinda. A replica of the scope’s readout from my father’s hunting rifle between my shoulder blades. He taught me to shoot with that blaster. Right, I’m going to apply some bacta to your inner eyelids, and then we’ll have to wait until it’s settled before I can apply eyedrops to counteract the dryness it will cause.” You chattered on, Crosshair barely listening. He stared at nothing, not even blinking until you told him he could. The bacta burned something awful, and tears ran tracks down his cheeks as he fought not to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry about the sting, you know, we aught to really come up with something better than bacta, we kinda just use it as a cure all but-“

“Do you ever stop talking?” Crosshair’s annoyance got the best of him and he snapped, glaring in your direction through sightless eyes.

“Eh, I’ve been told I’m quite the chatter box.” You retort. “Right, gonna touch your face again.”

He grimaced as you leaned back into his personal space, so close he could smell your faint perfume as you tipped his head back and administered numbing eyedrops to ease the burning once the bacta had set long enough.

“How long until my sight returns?” He asked, turning his face upwards and blinking to help the eyedrops settle in.

“About a week, give or take a day.” You answered. “The Kaminoans, idiots, wouldn’t let me perform the surgery, and have declared I’m to be your nurse until your eyes have healed. Do I look- wait, no.” Crosshair glared in your direction. “Do I sound like a nurse to you? I’m an optometrist specializing in artificial lenses and improvements! Not that yours could be improved much. Your natural eyes are phenomenal. I’ve never seen more beautifully shaped retinas, and your pupil dexterity is amazing!”

“Yes yes, I get it. I’ve got good eyes.” Crosshair rolled his empty eyes. “Not what girls usually compliment me on, but I’ll take it.” He wasn’t sure why he kept indulging you in conversation. He’d rather be left alone to his own dark world.

“There aren’t many girls who know what to look for in a decent set if eyes.” You shot back, picking up the fresh set of bandages. Crosshair flinched when your knuckle brushed his temple.

“Sorry, I forgot to warn you. Just reapplying the bandages, then we can get you out of this wing and to your temporary outpatient accommodations.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly with relief at getting out of the lab before he caught the rest of what you said.

“I’m not going to my barrack?” He asked. Crosshair didn’t need eyes to know you were wincing.

“Yeah… about that. The long necked idiots decided you needed around the clock monitoring before your sight returned. And decided, since they’re my lenses in your eyes, you should be put with me. In my quarters.”

Crosshair scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Unfortunately, Commander, you don’t get a choice. Do you have anything you need out of this room?” You say briskly, looking around.

“I’m not staying in-“

“Nothing you need then?”

“…” Even through the bandages, you can feel his glare as he chews his lip. “Do you have a toothpick?”

“In my quarters. Right, let’s get you up.” Hands grab his shoulder and help him out of the post-op gurney and to his feet. He sways slightly as he tries to find his balance without his eyes. “Whoah there, I gotcha.” The hands on his shoulders tightened. “Wow, you’re tall. Ok, do you want to take my shoulder or have me take your arm?”

Crosshair hated this. He wanted to scream and tear the cloth away from his eyes and rub them until they stopped itching and he could see and-

And it wouldn’t do anything but give him an infection. The voice in his head sounded painstakingly like Tech, who was always trying to help.

“Shoulder.” He gritted out after a moment. Soft hands that had just thoroughly tortured him with their medicine now took his hand and placed it on your shoulder. He fell into step beside you, letting you guide him into the hall and through the corridor.

“Your room is on the left past the kitchenette, I moved as much of the furniture as I could out of your way. Our rooms are connected by a shared refresher, too.” You chattered on as he followed you through the halls.

The darkness without his vision never failed to unsettle him. Kamino is always so bright, so blindingly white... even without vision the shadows felt out of place.

"Here we are." Your voice startled him out of his thoughts. "I'll drop you at your room and let you get settled from there. You won't be drilling while you recover but your armor and rifle is on the bed."

You set his hand against the doorframe into his room. "If there's an emergency shout and I'll be there."

Yeah, right.

The room was small, Crosshair was thankful for that. Less space for him to memorize. He sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to scratch at his eyes. He focused instead on mapping out the unfamiliar bunk. It was about the size of the one in his barrack, maybe a hair bigger. the most curious thing though was the dense, soft quilt that draped over it. It certainly wasn't anything from Kamino. On a hunch, he let a hand drift up to run a finger along the edge of the pillow.

Cotton. And thick. Not the thin cushion the kaminoans insisted on. It smelled off too, like fresh air and sunshine rather than bleach.

Had you... made up the bed for him?

Crosshair shook off the thought and all it entailed. There was a bedside desk of sorts, a datapad resting on it. Not that he would be able to do anything with it...

At the foot of the bed was his sniper rifle and armor, which he quickly checked over. Everything seemed to be in order.

Satisfied he could at least confidently navigate his temporary sleeping space, he kicked the quilt to the foot of the bed and curled up on the mattress, giving a quiet sigh of appreciation as he let himself sleep for the moment.

---

He awoke to a soft knock at the door, then the sound of it sliding open. Crosshair suppressed a twitch and focused on maintaining his breathing, staying as still as possible.

"Cross- oh." Your voice went from a casual tone to barely above a whisper. He feigned sleep and focused on listening to your footsteps as you padded across the room, pausing by the table.

There was the clatter of something... cutlery? And the faint smell of hot rations from the mess. Kriff, he must've slept longer than he meant if you were bringing in food already. He fought the urge to tense as he felt your presence close to him, then down by his feet where he had kicked the quilt. The sensation of the weight being pulled from the edge of the cott and the rustle of heavy fabric, he barely stifled a flinch as the blanket touched down over his shoulders first before coming to rest over the rest of him.

Then your footsteps retreated back towards the door, and he let himself relax a little more.

"I know you're awake, Crosshair. Food's on the desk if you're hungry. Double portion, to help you make up the weight you've lost the last few weeks." Your tone was still soft, and slightly... amused? Were you laughing at him? "The overhead lights are off but the desklamp is on. I'm out here if you need anything."

The door slid shut again. The quilt was heavy, but deceptively cool against his exposed skin, the white shirt and loose pants of the medical ward suddenly left him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Crosshair huffed a long sigh, sitting up and folding his knees up against his chest. He started with his ankles, slowly and methodically going through and cracking every joint all the way up to his neck then down his arms, stretching as he goes and enjoying the sensation of his muscles relaxing. He trailed one of his hands up against the smooth surface of the desk until he bumped the tray, then feeling around the edges for the warmth of where the rations would be.

Satisfied with the layout of his trey he moved to eat over the desk. As he did so, he also found a glass of water and a hefty box of toothpicks.

He picked at the food, getting barely halfway through before he pushed it away, downing the water and settling back on his bed to chew on a toothpick in sullen silence. His eyes ached. It wasn't a new sensation, but it was much more annoying. Especially that he was now left alone in the dark instead of having his squad around him to distract him.

Crosshair shook his head. That line of thought never ended well recently. He opted instead to grab his tray and glass and slip into the shared living space, setting them carefully in the sink and rinsing them over. There's the chatter of noise... a holo drama of some kind? And your voice from behind him and to his left, against the far wall.

"You know, you can change out of those awful medical uniforms if you want to." You called. Crosshair grunted.

"Don't have anything else. It's this or my blacks." He shot back, wincing at how gravely his voice sounded.

"Really? Nothing else?"

He rolled his eyes behind closed lids on impulse, then winced at the stinging feeling of the motion. "That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Sorry. That just seems a little spartan, though. Even for- well."

"A clone?" He drawled the word out. "We're property. Property can't own property, so we have enough to keep us from running around naked."

"Now that would be a sight. Kaminoans would be under a lot of heat for it though, since then there'd be no doubt about your humanity." There's a clatter of you setting something down, a datapad, probably. "Actually, scrap that. They'd just use it as more marketing. Do you want me to make a few calls, get you something else to wear?"

"That is... unnecessary. These are fine." Other clothes would be nice, Crosshair mused. He hated how much he sounded like Tech in that moment, but really, these would do just fine. He was a weapon for the Repub- Empire. He got what was given to him and didn't ask for more.

His momentary confusion sent a jolt of pain through the side of his head, he pressed a palm to it with a wince. Everything seemed to fizzle around him before snapping back to it's usual feeling. Dimly, he heard your voice talking to him.

"-Hair? Crosshair, are you alright?" Fingertips grazed his cheek just below the bandages. His hand snapped up to close around your wrist in a bone crushing grip. Kriff, when had you gotten close enough to touch him? "Ow, owowowow, ok, Buddy, you gotta let me go here. Take a breath." Your other hand came up to pry at his fingers. He took a shuddering breath and slowly released his death grip, his hand slipping away to hang limp at his side.

You mumble a few nasty curses that made his eyebrows raise slightly below the bandages, pulling away to presumably rub at your sore wrist.

"Warn me before you go grabbin me." He ground out in lieu of an apology, moving to push past you. You stopped him with your good hand on his chest.

"I did. You didn't hear me. Come sit down, I need to check your vitals." Your tone was stern, and he sighed knowing he wasn't gonna be able to get out of this one. He ground down on his toothpick as you took his elbow and lead him over to what felt like a low sofa, pushing him down onto it. If he had his eyes uncovered, he'd be glaring daggers.

"I thought you weren't a nurse." He bit the words out. You give him a snort in return.

"I'm not. But I am your around the clock care for now. Wanna tell me what that was? Gonna check your blood pressure, can I have your non-dominant arm?"

Crosshair held out his right arm, and you tapped his hand twice to warn him before moving to slip the cuff around his arm, taking care to maintain some form of contact so you didn't startle him again. "Just a lapse in attention." He lied through his teeth.

"Crosshair." Your tone was tired, borderline scolding him.

"It's a recurring headache. I've had it since the Reformation." he ground out. "It's on the side of my head, up high. Bleeds down into a migraine above my right eye."

"I'm gonna do a bloodcheck. Can I have your little finger? Little poke." He held out his hand as you slipped the blood pressure cuff off. He hissed as the needle lanced into his skin and out, taking a fair amount of blood [and actual flesh] with it. "Right, while that processes, we're gonna go to the refresher and get you cleaned up."

"My inability to see doesn't mean I can't bathe myself just fine." Crosshair hissed.

"You can do your body on your own just fine, but I need to get your eyes for you. We don't want to risk infection and you got some blood and crusties that would probably feel much better gone." You tap his elbow and pull him to his feet. "And while you're bathing, no shower. Bath only, keep the water away from your face and eyes, no soap-"

"I know post op care, Doc. Not my first time under the long neck's knife." Cross ground out.

"-And I'll leave you to do that while I track down some proper clothes for you." You finished, taking him through his room into the refresher. "Edge of the tub is behind you. Gonna have you sit on the floor in front of it and lean over it, ok? I'm gonna have my hands all over your face and head, so I'd appreciate it if you don't grab me again." He felt with his foot until his heel found the tub and lowered himself to the floor with a sigh. The tub was partially sunken into the ground, so the lip was fairly close to the floor. It was a little awkward at first as he slowly slid down until he was resting mostly laying on the ground with his head on the edge of the tub.

"Mk, right next to you, Crosshair." You said, tapping his shoulder lightly. "Let's get another look under these wraps, ok? I'll be gentle." As if you'd risk being anything else. Wouldn't want to damage the Empire's perfect weapon. He focused on breathing as you slowly unwound the strips from his face, blinking away the gritty feeling of his eyelids finally being able to move freely. He squinted through puffy eyelids into the darkness on instinct, trying to search for even a whisper of change or movement. "Ah, careful now. Nothing to see, remember? Do you want your eyedrops now or later?"

"Later." He grunted, to a small chuckle from you. He glared in your direction, but you paid him no mind.

"Lift your head for me?"

He did so, and he heard the slide of coarse fabric against ceramic as you slid a folded up towel under his neck and shoulders so they weren't digging into the smooth surface of the tub. He always hated this part.

The sound of the spigot being opened made him flinch, and he could feel flecks of water hitting the back of his head as the sound of a bottle being filled hit his ears. He gritted his teeth, waiting.

"Ok, bear with me now, gonna be up in your face for a bit." You warned, turning the faucet off again. Crosshair grunted an acknowledgement, bracing himself. Your off hand, the one he'd grabbed, he noted, slid under the base of his skull to better support his head as a damp microfiber cloth was dabbed at the disgusting mess of bacta, mucus, blood, and who knows what else that had gathered in the innermost corner and under his eyes, slowly breaking apart the mess with as little pressure as possible.

Crosshair swallowed, his pulse ticking up slightly before he remembered to go back to focusing on his breathing as you worked your way outwards, into the edges of his eyes. Memories flitted to the surface of his mind, of his eyes being rinsed out with something like a power washer as a cadet whenever he got another eye infection and the itchy, blurry vision he always had after another round of testing, debating on whether or not he was good enough or if he needed more improvement. Blinding white alternating with terrifying darkness, he hated not being able to see.

"Crosshair?" Your voice was soft, right next to his ear. It pulled him out of the painful memories as he realized you were no longer working on his eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"Situation Normal." His voice was raspier than he would have liked, sound just a bit too choked to be 'fine.'

"Alright. The worst of it's over, ok? Everything is looking good." There was the click of a soap bottle, and he tensed up again as the faucet was turned back on. His breathing, which he had done well at keeping metronome-steady up until this moment, caught slightly as something cold touched his scalp and the hand behind his head carefully pulled away.

"What're you doing?" He growled.

"Washing your hair. You'll feel better once it's done, trust me." Your voice had lost it's worried note, amusement creeping in as you begin to work the shampoo into his close cropped hair, gently scrubbing away at layers of built up sweat and dander at the edges of his hairline. "There you go, relax. I'm not going to hurt you, Commander."

Crosshair did his best, closing his eyes. It might've been your imagination, but he seemed to be leaning into your touch ever so slightly.

You switched to a small tipped squirt bottle you had filled earlier and began gently rinsing away the suds, a hand coming up to make sure none got close to his eyes. He shifted against the towel under him, listening to the still running faucet as you washed the last of the soap away, close cut nails still scratching at his scalp.

Just for a moment, he let himself drift. Just for a moment, the hands in his hair were stronger. Rougher, calluses from a knife dragging against his curls, murmuring in Mando’a in his ear-

Then you pulled away, and the illusion broke.

“I’m going to go grab you some clothes, okay? The tub is full and the water is warm. Oh, hold on.” You pull away and pause as he makes the tiniest sound in the back of his throat, then covers it with a dry cough. It almost feels like you imagined it, and not sure what to do, you ignore it.

Crosshair waits with bated breath, but slowly relaxes as you don’t seem to notice his slip up. Stupid of him, getting lost in the past.

“Ok, I’ve got an elastic cover here, just gonna slip it over your eyes so you don’t get water in them. You can take it off when you get out, but I’d like you to at least sleep with it on so you don’t rub in your sleep.” He immediately stiffens, waiting for the awful scratchy material to be pulled over his head-

Only for gentle hands to pull something soft and silky down over his eyes, barely a weight. He lets out the breath he’d been holding as you fuss with it for a second, making sure it won’t slip off.

“Ok. All good, Commander?”

“All good, Doc.” His answer is immediate. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he suppresses a flinch.

“Ok, you can come out whenever you’re done. I’ll bring you some proper clothes.” And then he was alone in the dark once more.

Slowly, methodically, he shrugged out of the thin white shirt and loose pants before stepping down into the tub, hissing slightly at the hot water. The burn felt good though, as he eased himself down to sit in a ball in the corner of the tub.

It was a much longer bath than Crosshair had ever had, letting the hot water be a distraction from his own mind as he methodically soaped up and rinsed enough that the water must be cloudy. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dirt, of the sensation of it caked into his skin and under his nails and-

That’s enough of a bath today. He opened the drain and listened to the water swirling down, a rap at the door catching his attention.

“What do you want?” The words are harsher than he means, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bad about them.

“Clothes, not that maker-forsaken medical uniform. I’m not looking, just gonna set them on the counter.”

The door slid open and you shuffled in, your footsteps slow and hesitant as you blindly reached for the counter, setting the stack down before retreated.

Ha, modesty around a clone.

Crosshair grabs the towel that was folded behind him earlier and dried off, gingerly patting around his hair before searching out whatever you had brought. His fingers came in contact with soft polymer and heavy cotton as he found the teeshirt and sweats you had left for him, sliding into them with a shiver.

These weren’t clone clothes. These were the expensive sleepwear they reserved for natborns. They smelled of expensive detergent rather than the bleach based mess that was used for clones, turning what little clothes they had scratchy and awful to touch.

He padded out through his room and into the main living area, taking off the soft eyewrap while he did so and made his way to the sofa. His foot found it before he did and he swore, much to amusement of you already on the sofa.

“Do you want a hand?” You asked, a smile in your tone. Crosshair sat down with a glare and a rude gesture in your direction.

“Eyedrops?” He asked.

“Oh! Yeah, we should do that now. Stay there.” He felt the sofa shift as you stood up, collecting what sounded like a bag from the other side of the room and returning to your seat.

“Got them. Ok, hold still, try not to flinch.” You instructed, tapping his shoulder twice to prepare him as you tilted his head up. He went stone still, breathing slowing to barely a gasp as a thumb swept sore eyelids up, he fought the urge to blink as two drops splashed into each eye.

“Ok, ok easy.” The hand released his chin and your presence retreated. “Take a breath, Crosshair. You’re trembling.”

Crosshair took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and keeping his head leaned back against the back of the couch as he closed his eyes.

“M’fine.” He grunted. “Hate these.”

You snorted softly, patting his knee sympathetically. Even through the heavy material of his sweats, he felt the odd shape of a bandaged hand. He frowned slightly, that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah, they’re not pleasant.” You agree, settling back. “You’re not supposed to use a datapad but do you want to listen to a book or something?”

Crosshair just grunted. “What’ja do to your hand?” He asked.

“My…. Oh. You did that, actually. When you grabbed me earlier. It’s just a bruise, nothing too bad.” You shrug off the concern as Crosshair shifts to get more comfortable.

“You should have warned me-“

“I did, Commander. You were too out of it to notice. Speaking of which, your blood results came back. When did you get electrocuted?”

The question took Crosshair by surprise.

“I haven’t been.” He forgot to sound angry at the question. You gave a small ‘huh.’

“You have a lot of ionized carbon in your bloodstream, from either a massive jolt or long term low level shocks.” You reported.

“I’m a mutant. Gonna have weird blood.” He mumbled back.

“Not like this.” You huffed. “It doesn’t match previous levels of your blood samples.”

Crosshair blinked the eyedrops away again, feeling the grittiness diminish for a moment.

“They took me. After we came back from our last mission with a jedi. They kept me from my brothers. I don’t remember what happened much after that.” The words felt… strange, to admit them aloud. A bolt of pain shot through his head, making him gasp slightly as a hand shot up to the side of his head. It was a lot worse than it had been in a while.

Flashes and echos of memory assaulted him, Hunter’s cold glare, Tech’s sneering face, Wrecker’s rage and Echo’s snide pity as they abandoned him on that platform. The roar of the jets as they betrayed the Empire, betrayed him.

Hunter opening his mouth to shout-

“Crosshair? Commander Crosshair.” His eldest brother’s voice came out panicked and feminine, not a clone’s voice. Crosshair was yanked out of memory, the haze of pain lifting slightly. Soft hands, gentle hands, scraping over his hair, massaging the cramping muscles in his hands as tremors wracked his whole body.

He was vaguely aware he was laying against someone, his head under a chin and legs bracketing his thighs to keep him from thrashing as he struggled to remember how to breathe.

“Crosshair, can you hear me?” The voice came from behind him, rumbling through him like a jolt of clear water. He managed a rough nod. “Good. I want you to try and match my breathing. In for 8, hold for 5, out for 8.”

You slowed your breathing down, counting softly. It took him a few seconds but he managed, pants turning into shaky but even breaths.

“‘Appened?” Crosshair slurred, not even trying to fight even as he realized it it wasn’t a brother under him but a doctor.

“You had another episode. This one was a lot worse. You were screaming and thrashing and-“ You had to take a breath, calm yourself before you startled him worse. “Can you describe to me how you’re feeling?”

Crosshair groaned softly, your hands returned to his close cropped silver curls and resumed combing through them.

“Head hurts… confused…” He closed his sightless eyes, relaxing into your touch.

“Yeah? Can you tell me where you are?”

Crosshair was silent for a long time. “Temp medical housing.” His voice was stronger.

“Good. Anything weird you’re seeing?”

“Doc, I’m blind for another day or so. Lemme up.” His attitude was the next to return, pulling your arms off of him and sitting up, palming his head and going to rub his eyes before stopping himself. The couch shifted under him as you moved.

“Careful. Careful. I’m going to go grab you a painkiller and something to drink.”

He grunted an acknowledgement, listening to you clatter around the kitchenette while he massages at his temples in an effort to release the tension prickling at his scalp.

“Hey.” He jumped as your voice came from a lot closer than he was expecting, and winced slightly at your instant step back incase you needed to avoid a blow. “Hey. Still with me?” Your voice was softer the next time. Crosshair nodded. “Alright. I’ve got a painkiller, but it’s gonna make you sleepy, ok? And water. You’re dehydrated.”

A cup was pressed into his hands and he took a drink before tilting his head to the side and exposing his neck.

“Good, you already know the drill. Ok, I’m right next to you, little pinch.”

It was not a little pinch, it never was. It hurt. But it was quickly replaced by the feeling of lead in his veins as a weight settled over him. He took another drink of the water before setting it down, not having the energy to fight it.

Crosshair tried to get to his feet, but his balance was a skewed mess. A hand slid under his shoulders to steady him as the world rocked wildly.

“You wanna sleep out here or in your room, decide fast.” Your voice was a gentle murmur in his ear.

“Second.” He gritted out, accepting your help with annoyed resignation as you half carried him to his room and set him down on his bunk.

“Get some rest, Commander. You’ve done so well today.” Your voice echoes like it’s from a long ways off. He falls back against the pillow, and the quilt is settled over him. He’s asleep before he can even curl up properly

---

“One day, Cross, we’re gonna be proper Commandos. No more labs for us.” Hunter’s voice is right by his head, whisper soft.

“Me too?” Wrecker, six years old and already almost as tall as the trainers. “And Tech?” Tech had been the one for testing that day, he was snoring away tucked against Wrecker’s side.

“All of us.” Hunter promised. “We’re gonna be free of testing and together fighting tinnies and living free.”

Crosshair just rolled over. Wishful thinking, at best.

[A/N: Whew! This is kinda awkward to break into chapters, but I'm trying. I've decided to release it chapter by chapter and then publish the master when I'm done so everyone is happy, got it? Taglist:

@rinwritesfics @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker ]

#soft crosshair #the bad batch #clone wars #star wars #the clone wars #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #yeah for this fic I kinda just #drop him in a salad spinner and give it a good few whirls #he's also a little ooc but I have the urge to give him a hug and as the author I will make him ACCEPT the hug #:D #GingerWrites

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