The Bad Batch: One Shot Collection

Febuwhump Day Twelve: Semi-Conscious

Author's Note: Don't judge I wrote this screaming into my keyboard for uh. Well. Girly stuff. ;_; xD

~ Rivana Rita

On Bracca, Hunter is shot by Bane.

It hurts. Everything hurts. It's hard to focus on anything other than that. He wants – he doesn't even what it is he wants anymore. All he does know is that it hurts, and everything hurts, and he needs it to stop.

"Try to hold still." That's Tech. He's near, at least.

Trying. It feels like his chest is on fire and it's burning, and that – he doesn't know how he's still alive. Logically, Hunter knows that probably means the blaster bolt missed his heart, though it was so close. He could have died there. Didn't expect to wake up again. Didn't expect to see anything after he hit the ground.

Hunter thinks he remembers Omega calling him, though he couldn't be sure.

"Hunter –" That's Wrecker now, and his voice is fading in and out of present, though he can feel his brother hovering nearby. He feels the way his electric signature is fluxing and pulsing and flowing with every beat of his heart, the way it twists and whirls and expands outwards. Everyone has it, and he's been with Wrecker enough to tell each of his brothers apart from their own.

But right now, even feeling that is overwhelming. It's too much, and Hunter just breathes in another half-gasping breath.

He's freezing. Everything is freezing.

That's probably bad.

Everything's freezing except his heart and it's burning and burning and burning. This is hardly the first time he's been shot, even if it's the worst. He knows how bad it can be.

Omega – they have to find Omega –

He thinks there's a distant thump or thud or something, but it's so hard to tell over his own labored breathing.

Clinging to consciousness feels like trying to swim through a puddle of mostly-solidified honey. It's sticky. It's warm. Maybe it's like quicksand, stubbornly trying to pull him under, and he thinks it'd be easier to let go and just fall down, down, down.

Wrecker grabs his hand, and Hunter's grip tightens over it. It probably hurts. He's certainly gripping it tight enough that he thinks it would. Can't convince himself to let go, though.

Everything hurts.

The flickering of Wrecker's pulse flitters through his hand, the staticky warmth of his energy running down Hunter's arm. It's –

It's strong, but at least it doesn't hurt. It can hurt. Probably would if Echo was here – his electric field is so warped and overwhelming, Hunter can hardly breathe with him half across the ship.

Stop fighting it. He needs to stop fighting it. Fighting it will never make it go away. Will never make it stop hurting.

It's just Echo.

Hunter knew that years ago.

It's so hard to breathe. It shouldn't hurt this much.

He feels the warmth of it when Wrecker brushes his other hand across his head. Leans into it instinctively. It's soothing and warm and gentle and he needs the distraction.

He wants to curl up into a ball of misery and cry, actually.

He can't feel Crosshair. He's – right, Crosshair left them, tried to kill them, stayed behind on Kamino. He's gone. Crosshair's gone, and Hunter tries to remember one of the countless times he's held him, to remember the warmth of it as he held his little brother in his arms, to feel the warmth of Crosshair's head on his chest, but the memories slip away like fleeting smoke as murkily faded as Crosshair's presence alone.

"– get your armor off," Wrecker is saying, and Hunter tried to look at him, though it's blurred and the world spins. He doesn't have the strength to.

The air's already freezing, but Hunter doesn't argue. They have to – get this treated.

Stars. It hurts so much.

Wrecker's hand drops from his head, but he still feels the lingering warmth. Wants it back, anyway, though.

Wrecker's working on getting his armor off. The air is freezing. everything is freezing, and his jaw is clenched so tightly it aches. He digs his fingers into the armrest of the chair instead, trying to breathe. That's usually a good thing to focus on.

Omega ought to be here. She should be hovering. She should be nearby; he should be able to feel her. He can still smell the faint floweriness of her scent, still lingering, but she isn't here. He can see her worried face in his mind, can feel the lingering, gentle touch of her hands on his arm, but she's not...

He let the bounty hunter take her, and Hunter has no idea how they're going to find her.

"Omega," he rasps, "We hafta find her."

"Which we will not be doing when you have a hole in your chest," Tech throws back. He sounds annoyed.

That's fine. Hunter's annoyed, too.

He tries to hold still as Wrecker finishes removing his armor, piling it haphazardly on the floor. Hunter pries his hand off the armrest with an almost embarrassing level of effort, tugs up the edge of his body glove shirt.

He can feel the pounding of his brother's heart. He's scared.

Hunter's scared, too.

It hurts everything hurts he needs –

Wrecker gently pushes his hands away, because he's doing more fumbling than anything else, and tugs it up himself.

Hunter doesn't want to look. Knows he probably shouldn't. Does anyway, though.

He feels sicker when he sees it. Not that he can see much, period, thanks to the dimness and how much his vision is swimming, but there's a way-too-dark spot where the blaster shot burned into him, and the...

Okay.

Yeah.

Stop looking.

Wrecker practically growls when he sees him, and Hunter's too exhausted to react to that at all. No idea if he'd find it disturbing if he could – it's hard to say. They did grow up together. Wrecker has done many, many actually semi-disturbing things.

Hunter tries asking how bad it looks, but all that comes out is a muffled sound.

Wrecker squeezes his shoulder tightly.

Omega. They have to –

She's not –

Well, at least she doesn't have to see this. Omega is shaken easily by violence, and Hunter doubts she'd take seeing this well.

Hunter feels consciousness fading a bit, but at least now, instead of being alone on the rocky ground outside where they landed the ship, he's – he knows he's safe.

Wrecker's right beside him, hovering, and he knows Echo and Tech are here – probably up front, flying.

Even if it hurts.

Even if all he can think is a desperate string of where's Omega, we have to find her, get her back, where is she, did he hurt her? They have to get her back.

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