DISCLAIMER: ST:TCW/SW:TBB (c) George Lucas, Dave Filoni, Lucas Arts, Disney
It has to hurt if it is to heal
Just in few days, Crosshair noticed his new crew wasn't like his batch at all. the recent disaster on a wreck of the republic venator just cemented his observation. His current team barely recognized him outside of the missions. Didn't bother talking to him. After he was released from the medic ward they escorted to their living quarters only because the medic gave them a side-eye. It was the first time sharpshooter was glad the reg medics were still in use. Crosshair kind-of missed the one from 501st that had the attitude and tattoo on his temple, what was the maxim? Bad droid is the working one? Something like that. If he was there, he would scoff at his current team, demand they took care of him, scare them with court-martial if they didn't co-operate.
The woman unceremoniously dropped the sniper on the sofa and walked away without a word. Crosshair massaged his broken leg. Shifting his body not to strain his spine any further. Then he noticed it. For some unknown reason, his new squad never got rid of Echo's hammock. They never used it either. It was just hanging there in the darkened corner of the living quarters, with pillows and blankets still there as if the ARC trooper never left. Was it possible that no-one noticed a bright orange piece of cloth hanging from the ceiling?
Before the... change, even though it was the ARC's bed, Echo let everyone lounge in his hammock. It didn't matter if any of the bad batch wanted to have a quick nap or just kick back and enjoy the swing – something Wrecker's simple soul enjoyed immensely – Echo was not only fine with it, he encouraged it, as long as they respected the equipment which itself held sentimental value for ex-501st member. It was from the original set he got after graduating ARC training. Crosshair never took on the offer. It never felt right for him – it was like using someone-else's toothbrush. Not to mention it was always occupied by someone. But now, with the Bad Batch gone the hammock looking both enticing and abandoned, Crosshair made up him mind. He hoped the ARC still wouldn't mind if he used it for a quick shut-eye.
The sharpshooter stood up with difficulty and stiffly limped to the hammock. With strained groan he dropped down to the flimsy looking bedding. The hammock creaked quietly but supported his weight – it did survive Wrecker's frame, after all.
The sniper sighed, relieved - he never understood why Echo refused to get a bunk installed for him, but now as Crosshair was beaten-up, bruised and broken, almost like Echo was, he finally got it. It was comfortable: The curviture, the evenly distributed pressure, the suspension, the feeling of intimacy and, of course, the slight sway. He never wanted to leave the cozy nest Echo made for himself. The sniper propped the pillow, draping Echo's gray, military-grade blanket over himself as he curled to semi-fetal position.
Tears welled in his eyes. They stung especially bad in his left one – the one that took the biggest hit by the Ion engine fiasco. He could faintly smell Echo still. A mixture of sweat, soft soap, durasteel and lubricating oil the ex-reg used for his prosthetic, filled the sharpshooter's nostrils with every ragged, strained, painful inhale. He didn't even realized how much he missed his previous team- his brothers.
He wanted them back. He wanted them to join the Empire. He wanted them to be safe. The order to shoot on sight, still gnawed at his mind – made him nauseous even though it was the only logical conclusion. He just wished his brothers weren't traitors so he didn't have to hunt them down.
Crosshair allowed himself a stifled, painful sob as the tears streamed down his cheeks. He made the hammock sway with his good leg. The rocking made his whole body heavy and turned his thoughts into incoherent mess. He knew if anyone of this new team saw him like that, they'd turn on a rumor mill in the canteen.
Right now he didn't care.
He could always blame it on wrong dosage of medications, after all.