The Bad Batch: One Shot Collection

That Was Tech

And now, he's going to kill him.

Tech, who would never once hurt any of his brothers. The only one Crosshair knew that of. The first to walk away. The first to accept what he was.

"You had your chance to be one of us."

From the minute Omega told him of Tech, Crosshair knew he would never be able to see his brother again or make up for what he did, or – or make it right, and Tech would have spent the rest of his life thinking Crosshair didn't love him like Hunter and Wrecker nearly did.

He does. He does, and he forgives him, too, because Crosshair dug this hole for himself. No one made him hurt or lie to them.

And even mindless, this is still Tech.

Crosshair's hand presses to his arm, in the unspoken whispering I love you don't hate yourself it's what I deserve that he knows Tech would understand.

His hand slips free as exhaustion burns over his mind, stars blurring his sight and the image of the fierce snarl on Tech's face.

He's terrifying when he's angry.

Crosshair doesn't have the energy to be scared anymore.

He's going to die.

The grip on him is slackening, Tech pulling back the slightest bit, but he's too exhausted to fight anymore – until a flash of a stunbolt takes his brother down, and he drops sideways, rolling over and splashing into the water.

Crosshair shoves himself upright, coughing and gasping, reaching for the riverbank to keep from being thrown over the waterfall right behind him. His hand catches the rocks, struggling and scraping, and he reaches out when he sees Howzer approach. The reg grabs his hand, and then Hunter's there, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright.

Crosshair resolutely doesn't look back, because if he sees Tech falling over the waterfall edge, he'll go after.

His body is trembling. Head is spinning – a splitting headache lancing its way through his forehead somewhere between his eyes. Right hand is stinging, aching, clenching.

Tears don't stop coming.

He throws himself at Hunter, and his older brother's arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him against his smaller (but decidedly, not nearly as skinny) frame.

The air is cold. He's freezing. Numb. Standing is hard.

"Crosshair." Hunter pulls back, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek, turning his head to face him. "Was that...?" Hunter's helmet hides his face, but his voice is unsteady. Scared. Hunter never sounds scared. He always hides it by layers of anger – he did on Kamino, when Crosshair dragged him through their home with a blaster pressed to his back, when he hit him for stumbling or slowing or being brave enough to try reaching out for him.

Crosshair nods, unable to voice it, to say anything. Words catch in his throat, and he chokes back a sob.

"We have to keep moving," Rex interjects before anyone else can join the mental breakdown.

***

That was Tech. It was. It was, but it feels like a dream. It makes sense. Too much.

CX-2 had always been familiar. Smart. Different. Too fast, too good, too stealthy, too rogue, with an itchiness that Crosshair registered as familiar on first sight.

"You had your chance to be one of us."

"I'm going to give you what you never gave me: a chance."