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fanfoolishness · 29 days

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Blind Side (The Bad Batch)

Wrecker catches Crosshair for a heart-to-heart, and reminds him of something that happened long ago. Set between 3x05 and 3x06, ~ 1700 words, Crosshair's tremor, family feels, Wrecker being a good brother <3.

---

Dawnlight bathes the stone steps in florid pinks and golds. Crosshair’s boots slip down the steps quickly, softly. A few of the locals are up, fisherfolk down at the docks preparing for the day, but most of the island still slumbers. It’s as he prefers it.

His rifle rests securely in his arms as he makes his way across the beach. He presses it close to his chest as he makes his way to the little cove he’s started to think of as his training ground. Omega’s Kaminoan droid waits for him obediently, carrying a basket of fruit. Every rotation for the past week the little round droid has cheerfully met him here, a fact he is begrudgingly grateful for.

“Good morning, CT-9904!” the droid says cheerfully. Crosshair just nods. He grabs one of the fruits and takes a bite, then gestures out to the open water, giving the rest of the basket to the droid. The droid hovers out, targets in hand as Crosshair finishes the fruit. It’s extra sweet this morning, but with a sour edge that makes his mouth pucker. It tastes like nothing he’s ever eaten before. He thinks he likes it.

He wipes his hand on his side, and hefts the rifle.

It’ll be different today. Just have to concentrate. He checks his stance, his balance, his breathing, his posture, all of the things he has had drilled into him since he was a cadet. For a moment, it almost feels like it’s working.

Then he lowers his eye to the scope, and his hand jerks helplessly out to the side.

He growls, a muffled sound of frustration. He shakes out his hand, glaring at it. He tries again, this time sighting AZI and the target, and the shot goes wide.

He takes a deep breath.

Again.

---

It’s an hour later, and his success rate is sitting at 47.2%, and he doesn’t know what to do.

It doesn’t improve his mood any when he hears heavy footsteps in the sand. He turns, scowling up at the shadows cast by Wrecker and Batcher.

The hound leaps forward, wagging her tiny tail furiously, licking him on the cheek before he can stop her. He pats her on the neck and apologizes while she wiggles in delight. “I snuck out on you. I know, I know. I won’t do it again.” He glances up at Wrecker, who’s rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I suppose she led you down here?”

“Ahh, she was hungry,” says Wrecker. “I heard her looking for breakfast and figured I’d join her, ‘specially since the fruit’s been extra good lately. After she ate, she came looking for you.” He frowns, squinting out at AZI. “You’re supposed to eat it, not shoot it.”

“I’ve been told, yes,” says Crosshair. He lowers his rifle cautiously.

Do they realize? That I can’t --

He rests the rifle against the rock, and settles into a sitting position. If Hunter and Wrecker haven’t noticed his little problem, he’s not going to spell it out for them. He’ll simply need to find somewhere else to practice. Batcher curls up beside him, rolling on her back until she finds a good spot, and promptly falls asleep.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Wrecker asks, plopping down in the sand a few feet away. The loose sand sprays out in a fine shower beneath his weight. “We’re lucky here. Great place to clear your head.”

“Assuming one can find peace and quiet,” says Crosshair pointedly. Wrecker guffaws, clapping him on the shoulder and knocking him half a foot sideways.

“Just as chatty as you used to be,” Wrecker laughs, his wide face creasing into a smile. “We missed you, Crosshair.”

Crosshair blinks, surprised by the faint sense of warmth in his cheeks. “It didn’t seem that way,” he says, and the words sit heavy and awkward between them. His hand trembles against his leg, and he pins it down with the other one, hoping Wrecker hasn’t noticed.

The grin on Wrecker’s face slides away, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious expression. Crosshair wonders at it.

Wrecker says slowly, thoughtfully, “No, we did. I did.” He shrugs, looking down at his large, powerful hands. “Just wasn’t the same without you.”

Crosshair swallows, turning away to watch the surf’s edge. Little waves lap against the shore. When he speaks, the words are halting, difficult to get out. “It wasn’t the same for me, either.”

There’s so much more that he could -- should -- say, but can’t.

I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

I wish things had been different.

He chances a look back at his brother, and Wrecker’s sitting there with tears in his eyes, wiping them with the back of his hand.

Oh, hell.

“Wrecker --”

“No, it’s --” Wrecker draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. Like that, he looks like an oversized kid again, even more than he usually does. He sniffs. “So. Lemme ask you something.”

Crosshair hesitates. “Fine.”

“Remember when I got my shiner?” Wrecker gestures to the scarred side of his face, his blind eye. Shiner doesn’t begin to cover it, even now.

“Of course I do.”

“Wrecker’s down!” Tech’s voice calling on comms, more informative than anxious. Crosshair’s not concerned. Wrecker always gets back up, always ready to fight again, he’ll just need a minute --

But through his scope, Crosshair sees what the others haven’t yet. A helmet cracked in half, Wrecker curled on the ground, bloody burns webbing over the side of his face, blackened skin peeling around a ruined left eye --

“Medic, medic!” comes a strangled cry, and it’s ten seconds before Crosshair recognizes the sound of his own voice --

“Yeah, that’s a hard one to forget, isn’t it?” Wrecker asks, chuckling.

“I’m glad you can laugh about it,” Crosshair says, crossing his arms. “It was too close.”

“Gotta laugh about it sometimes, right?” says Wrecker, though his smile fades. “But remember what you told me, that night in the infirmary? After the others fell asleep?”

“Cross?”

He shifts in the seat beside the infirmary bed, looking over Wrecker’s good side. Hunter and Tech have fallen asleep against the far wall, Hunter’s head on Tech’s shoulder. They’d all been exhausted after the battle and its aftermath.

Soft beeps and noises come from the machines attached to Wrecker. He’s covered in bandages, and the eye is a lost cause, but he’s alive, and grinning up at Crosshair.

He’ll be okay.

“You’re awake,” says Crosshair in surprise. “They said you’d be out for hours.”

“You never can keep a good soldier down,” Wrecker says, coughing. “But I’m guessing this was a pretty bad one. You’re all in here. That’s never good.”

“It could be worse,” says Crosshair. “But not much worse. This was… close.” He reaches out, tucking Wrecker’s stuffed tooka doll more securely into the crook of his brother’s arm. It had been sitting at a funny angle. “Don’t do it again,” he says. “I mean it.”

“I’ll try, but you know me!”

“Yes, I do.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Crosshair rests his hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, almost absently. The rise and fall of Wrecker’s shoulder with every breath is a welcome sensation. Breathe in, breathe out. It reassures him.

Wrecker pulls Lula closer with one bandaged arm. “Tell me something, Crosshair.”

“All right.”

“I… think I can only see out of one eye. Is that uh… is that permanent?”

No point in dragging it out. “That’s what the droid said. Sorry, Wrecker.”

Wrecker takes only a minute to digest something that would have destroyed Crosshair, had it happened to him. The man is indestructible, Crosshair has to grant him that. “But I can still fight?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes. They said you should be out of here in a few rotations.”

Wrecker leans back against his pillow with a sigh of relief. “All right then! Whew. We’ll just have to change things up, huh? You’ll watch my blind side?”

Crosshair squeezes his brother’s shoulder, and he feels Wrecker relax. Crosshair gives him a faint smile. “Obviously.”

The tremor is back, hand twisting in his lap. Crosshair closes it into an unsteady fist, grimacing. It shakes for several seconds, then stills again.

“Yes, I remember,” says Crosshair. “I said I’d watch your blind side.” He glances up and sees Wrecker staring at him. At his hand. He freezes.

“You wanna talk about it, Crosshair?”

He turns away, a muscle working in his throat. “No.”

“You wanna have AZI look at it?”

“No.”

Wrecker lets out a heavy huff through his mouth, leaning back in the sand. He shakes his head, scowling. “You always were stubborn.”

“It’s in my nature,” says Crosshair. One of their old jokes.

“Yeah, I know. Argh!”

They’re quiet again, the only sounds the water on the sand, Batcher’s steady snoring, seabirds on the wing.

Wrecker nudges Crosshair in the shoulder again. “Look. You know I got your blind side, too. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. There’s an ache in his chest that feels good, something he’d almost forgotten. It makes his eyes sting.

There’s a sudden flash of movement, and then he’s being crushed by a Wrecker classic, a massive crunching hug that his ribs struggle to move against. Crosshair lets out a choking sound, but his muscle memory remembers the only way to get it to stop: raising his hands to hug his brother back.

Wrecker lets him go and he sucks in a deep breath of air, hacking. Just like old times. “How touching,” he says, but he can feel the half smile on his face despite himself.

“Good talk,” says Wrecker, and winks at him. “Come on. Breakfast?” Batcher leaps up at the word, all sleep forgotten.

“We’ve already eaten,” Crosshair points out.

“You used half your fruit for target practice, and I’m hungry again. Talks are hard work! Come on.” Wrecker gets to his feet and reaches out a hand, beaming.

Crosshair sighs, and takes it.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #wrecker tbb #crosshair tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #my batcher fic #star wars #season 3 spoilers #hahaha I came on here to post this fic and then got swept into the boop war #hopefully that doesn't affect people reading it lol

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