A/N: This is a short series of stories following the theme displayed in the title.

For wwheeljack on AO3. Hope you enjoy, fellow Tech-fan!

Chapter 1: The Nightmare

The soft glow from the control panels in the Marauder's cockpit did not look as inviting as she had hoped. Instead, all it did was further the strange sick feeling in her stomach as she watched the lights glimmer and shift in their intensity and hue. Omega shut her eyes again, wishing she had never opened them.

The darkness behind her closed lids wasn't much better, and she supposed it might actually be worse than the panels' lights glowing so eerily out of the darkness.

Omega huffed unhappily and squeezed her trooper doll. It didn't help. Lula was bigger and more suited for squeezing, an especially good doll for pushing away those squirmy flitterings of fear that could worm so annoyingly through one's stomach. But Lula was being squished by Wrecker currently - Omega could see the doll's ears peeking out of one of Wrecker's large hands - besides which Omega knew dolls wouldn't help this time.

She took a breath, pretending she was calm and collected. Hunter's words on their last mission ran through her head: Sometimes the best way to fix a problem is to go about solving it in the not-so-usual manner.

Well, she'd used the dolls before today - time to follow the Sergeant's advice and use a different tactic!

Omega nodded to herself and tossed the trooper doll to land with its limbs akimbo by her pillow, and slipped quietly down the ladder.

She moved past Wrecker and the comforting hug she knew he'd give her if she woke him. She passed on tiptoe by Hunter and his caring gaze and steady hold. She made sure not to brush against Echo's scomp hand which hung limply over the side of the rear passenger seat - she slipped away from the reassurance that came with knowing that he would know what to do.

They were asleep, so she continued on towards the cockpit and the only other person still awake, the fear growing stronger, the urge to speak to someone and the need for comfort chasing away all attempts at bravery and logic - only to find Tech seated, unmoving, in the pilot's seat with his head tilted away from her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm of low, slow breathing.

Asleep.

The emotions that had hovered so close to the surface plunged away to settle deep in her stomach. Now that she was alone, she couldn't cry. But that thought picked at her stoic mask until it threatened to break her down entirely.

Omega bit her lip, hesitating in the cockpit, her heart thudding loudly in the warm silence of the ship, pounding loud enough to shake against the steady thrumming of machinery deep within the Marauder's metal plates.

She was so tired. She knew she should return to her room, but still she hesitated, hoping against hope - though she knew it was practically hopeless - that Tech would wake up without her having woken him.

She continued to watch him, toying with the idea of leaning around the chair to peek past the wide rim of his goggles in order to get a glimpse of his eyes. Just in case he hadn't heard her and was actually in case...

Still she hesitated.

"What is it?"

Omega paused, momentarily stunned at the soft voice interrupting the steadily growing silence and fear that she had been plunged in.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," said Tech, straightening and turning the seat to face her. "I was awake."

"You didn't hear me?" She shifted from one foot to the other, taking an unconscious step closer.

"No, actually. Not ideal for someone on watch, hm?" He smiled at her and Omega forgot all about being brave.

"Oh, Tech," she moaned and lurched forward, stuffing her arms under his and clinging to his armor, the scenes that had so frightened her only minutes before playing again behind her eyes.

Tech did not speak, and she could feel that he was waiting, his breathing even and slow. She could feel his eyes looking down at her, the image of his calm face, head cocked in thought superimposing itself over the horrid pictures in her mind.

She took a breath and pulled away, blinking rapidly at the heat that had sprung to her eyes.

Tech folded his hands loosely in his lap, and watched her, but Omega didn't want to look at him just yet.

"Omega?"

"I'm sorry..." she murmured, breath hitching strangely.

When she did raise her head, Tech was still there, eyes focused on her face in a patient gaze.

"Everything is fine, you know," he said.

She shook her head, but swallowed back the protest to his statement. She blinked hard again, wishing Tech would speak. He did not, and somehow this encouraged her to voice her thoughts.

"It's silly," she murmured. "But I'm afraid because of a dream."

"The dream frightened you? Or what it made you think of frightened you?"

Omega hiccupped. "What?"

"Sometimes things affect us subconsciously, and those things manifest themselves best in our minds when we are the least active to stop them. Today was quite...er, stressful. Not to mention the added pressure of the past several days."

Omega rubbed her nose. "That doesn't exactly help," she sniffed, blinking harder than ever.

Tech's eyes softened. "What I mean is, it's all right to feel scared."

"How...?" Omega blinked. "I don't like feeling scared. I wish I could be brave all the time like you."

Tech turned to tap at the controls, a low hum emitting from his throat. "What about the others? Echo and Wrecker? Hunter? Being brave doesn't mean you don't feel scared. It means you do the right thing even when you are scared. Besides, if what you say is indeed the definition of bravery, than I certainly am not brave all the time."

Omega sighed. "It never seems like you're scared."

Tech tilted his head. "Fear is a natural response to any perceived threat, real or imaginary."

He pulled back from the controls and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. Omega took this as meaning the conversation was over. The distraction of it had helped to dim the images of her nightmare and connect her again to reality instead of leaving her to wallow in the terrors of fear-inflated imaginings.

She shifted back, preparing to mutter a "Thanks, Tech," when the man interrupted her.

"What was the dream?"

"Uh, oh..." Omega fiddled with the hem of her tunic. It all seemed so silly now, so silly compared to Tech's calm reasoning. She stared at the toes of her boots and Tech straightened a little in his chair.

"Omega?"

Omega swallowed, the tears threatening to rise once more, and she shook her head, determined to keep them back.

"Crosshair," she said.

Tech blinked slowly. "Ah..."

Omega's pulse began to pound again, her eyes wide with remembered horror and she heaved a breath, the words spilling from her rapidly palpitating heart.

"It was awful!" she panted. "He was so ugly and cruel, I tried to stop him from hurting everyone - "

Tech made a gentle motion with his hands as indication to quiet down. "Don't wake the others."

Omega gulped, twisting her fingers about, trying to stare away the tremors that were making them shake.

Tech stood and guided her to the copilot's seat. She sat down, drawing her knees up to her chin and staring blankly out at the tiny white stars. Piercing bright points of light. Like Crosshair's eyes.

After placing a hand momentarily on her head, Tech situated himself again at the helm and tipped his head against the back of the chair.

Omega sighed, feeling her eyes droop tiredly. The weariness was welcome now. Tech was there, and he was calm. She could hear the gentle rhythm in the silence, see his chest rise and fall with each breath. She curled up sideways in the seat.

"I hope we get him back," she murmured. Her eyes slipped closed and she into sleep, lulled by the low thrumming of the engines and the gentle, slow blinking of the control panel lights. Like Tech's eyes...

Somewhere on the verge of sleep she heard a whisper.

"So do I..."