First time writing from my Wrecker's POV, and very worried about how he sounds.

Star Wars © Lucasfilm

It was the sound of Tech's sobs, and the low thrum of Crosshair's voice that roused Wrecker from his half-sleep. Exhaustion made his limbs feel leaden, and even his eyes refused to open fully.

The sedative the bandits had used on Wrecker had finally faded from his system, but Wrecker could still feel the sedatives' effects on his body. His mind was sluggish and his limbs did not react when Wrecker demanded them to move. He'd been able to fight the drugs numbing his body long enough to follow broken, bleeding Crosshair back into the cave system to find Hunter and Tech… but that had all been from adrenaline and his worry for his two brothers.

Crosshair had taken charge the very moment Wrecker had carried Tech into the Havoc Marauder, barking commands to Wrecker as the sniper shoved Hunter into one of the crash seats, then ran to the cockpit. Wrecker had never seen such a wild, desperate look in Crosshair's eyes as his younger brother ordered Wrecker about. The fear in Crosshair's gaze was palpable, even as he whirled on his heels and bolted to the cockpit.

Wrecker, in a sedative addled state of mind, had carried Tech into the Havoc Marauder's medical bay and tried to help his brother. He hadn't noticed that Crosshair had powered their shuttle up to full thrust, and had burst from Naalol's atmosphere, as Wrecker scrambled to slow the bleeding from Tech's prior injury. Tech's torso was tiny underneath Wrecker's hands, his unconscious brother's mouth twisted with a pained scowl as Wrecker pressed down on Tech's stomach.

"Easy, brother," Wrecker had whispered as Tech had squirmed underneath his hands, "I'm just trying to help. Easy, little brother, easy."

Wrecker had not noticed when Crosshair arrived at his side, so focused was he on Tech, until he felt Crosshair's elbow jab into his side. The sniper's touch had given Wrecker the focus he needed and, with Crosshair at his side, they hurried to patch Tech's reopened injury. Crosshair had shown no mind to his own injuries - the ones Crosshair had taken for Wrecker - as they tended to Tech, Crosshair's stubbornness far too much for Wrecker to argue against with his sedative-laced mind.

Only when Tech had been stabilized and was resting, had Crosshair backed down, though he had jerked away from Wrecker when he tried to touch the sniper. The dismissal need not have been spoken, for Crosshair's actions had always expressed his temper as sharply as his words, and there was no hesitation behind Wrecker leaving the medical bay.

As Wrecker had left the medical bay, the absence of Hunter had drawn his attention. His younger brother had left the crash seat, though his location was made clear by the closed cockpit door. Wrecker had wanted to approach the cockpit to check on Hunter, but he had only been able to take two steps forward before Wrecker's exhaustion had finally taken over his body. He'd collapsed against the starboard computer console's chair and, before Wrecker could do more than yawn, he had fallen asleep.

And now, with the soft murmuring of Crosshair's voice breezing from the medical bay, Wrecker was fully awake. Slowly, Wrecker rose up from the chair, stretched, then headed into the medical bay.

Wrecker paused as he stepped through the threshold, a smile brushing across his lips as he watched Crosshair whisper quiet reassurances to Tech. Crosshair's right hand was threading through Tech's hair, the sniper's gaze warmed with affection as Tech's chin rested against Crosshair's left hand. It was clear from Tech's light breathing that their youngest brother was exhausted and moments from sleep, even though Wrecker could see that Tech was trying to stay awake.

"Hey there, Tech," Wrecker greeted as he stepped around Crosshair's right side, then reached out and gently touched Tech's left shoulder.

Tech did not flinch at Wrecker's touch, though his eyes flicked to Wrecker with deep worry in his eyes - worry that made Wrecker's heart ache. He could only assume what was running through his brother's mind, for even Wrecker could not chase away the thoughts of what he'd seen Tech do to the bandits.

His little brother had gunned down every bandit who stood in his way, without a shred of remorse or secondary thought to Tech's actions - Wrecker hadn't been aware of Tech's actions until he and Crosshair had hurried back into the cave, and Wrecker had seen the carnage of his little brother's wrath. Tech wasn't a killer, not in the way Crosshair had accepted ending the life of another sentient over the years, or in the cold way Wrecker would do anything to protect his brothers. Tech was their quiet, nerdy brother who fought only for his brothers. Tech was never supposed to kill with such ruthless fury as he had the bandits on Naalol, for his nature was not that of Wrecker, Crosshair or Hunter.

Tech had forgotten his pacifism in his drive to rescue Wrecker, Hunter and Crosshair, and Wrecker knew his brother well enough to know Tech would not be able to forgive himself for what he'd done. Wrecker shot a glance towards Crosshair as he watched Tech's brow furrow with worry then, ever so gently, pulled Tech into a hug by wrapping his arms under and around his brother's torso.

"We're here for you, Tech, always. You were so brave, little brother, but you don't need to worry any longer. Hunter's safe, Crosshair's here and I am here too. We have you, baby brother," Wrecker whispered as he leaned into Tech, unwilling to let go of Tech as he felt his youngest brother burrow his face into Wrecker's chest plate. Crosshair let out a groan from beside Wrecker as he slowly gathered himself to his feet, the hiss that stole from Crosshair's mouth making Wrecker snap his gaze to the sniper even as he continued to reassure Tech with the hug Wrecker always knew Tech needed.

Crosshair was favoring his right hand - the hand the bandit had broken -, though he immediately lowered his hand to his side and turned his gaze to glare a hole into the wall of the Havoc Marauder. The sniper ignored Wrecker's gaze, and snarled as Wrecker whispered Crosshair's name, but Wrecker knew Crosshair, and knew when the sniper was being defensive.

When Wrecker felt Tech's limbs deaden and heard his breathing ease into sleep, he lowered his brother onto the medical bay bunk, then turned to Crosshair. Crosshair stiffened as Wrecker towered over his brother, but the sniper did not protest or back away when Wrecker reached out and carefully took Crosshair's right hand in his own.

"Let me patch you up, Cross," Wrecker growled as he felt Crosshair flinch at his touch and heard the sniper his strained air from his lungs.

"I'm fine," Crosshair spat out immediately, but the quiver in his voice told of his lie.

Wrecker knew that Crosshair was proud and exceedingly stubborn about his own personal care, especially when any of his brothers were hurt, and that Crosshair would rather tend to his injuries in private - but Wrecker would not allow his brother to be stubborn today, not after Crosshair had given himself up to the bandits to protect Wrecker. He could still feel the bite of the scalpel in his brow, could still feel the stark terror that urged him to fight even when Wrecker could not because of his paralyzed and sedated body, and could hear Crosshair's sneering, vile taunts towards the bandits.

Crosshair had saved Wrecker with no regard to what the bandits would do to the sniper himself, and the very least Wrecker could do for Crosshair was tend to his many injuries. Crosshair fidgeted and made a show of trying to pull away from Wrecker, but he saw no real fire in his brother's eyes even as Crosshair grumbled and growled about not needing a babysitter.

His brother's irascible expression made a light chuckle rumble from Wrecker's chest as he released Crosshair's right hand then, with a sternness to his expression, gestured for Crosshair to sit on the edge of Tech's bunk. Crosshair scowled as he registered Wrecker's command but, with an irritable snort and a pointed scowl, Crosshair sat.

The moment Crosshair sat, Wrecker noticed Crosshair's eyes widen as a hollow gasp of pain escaped from the sniper, his face ghosting pale as the fingers of his left hand clawed into a fist. For Crosshair, such an exclamation of pain meant that he was suffering greatly, and that only made Wrecker's heart pound painfully against his ribs.

It was his fault Crosshair was hurting, Wrecker's fault that his brave brother was favoring his right hand and-

Force above, Crosshair was crying.

Tears burned at the edge of Crosshair's eyes, even as the sniper furrowed his brow and wiped at his eyes with his left hand, his scowl turning harsher every time he tried to wipe away the offending tears. Wrecker frowned as he watched Crosshair fight his natural response to pain - and the fear Wrecker knew that had stricken Crosshair upon seeing Tech acting so unlike himself -, then stepped forward and placed his hand on Crosshair's shoulder.

"Cross, it's okay. Let me patch you up, or Tech will worry over you and your health, and he will refuse to let himself sleep," Wrecker reminded as Crosshair shot a look towards Wrecker, then stared a hole into his lap, clearly afraid of showing Wrecker that he was crying.

"I said I was fine-"

Crosshair cut himself off when Wrecker wrapped his arms around his brother's collarbone - taking considerable care to avoid Crosshair's back -, and stiffened. Wrecker held Crosshair in a hug and waited, waited for Crosshair to relent, and waited for Crosshair to sink into his chest. When Crosshair finally did, Crosshair sagged against Wrecker and let out a weak, tired sigh that rattled into Wrecker's chest and stuck there - just as Crosshair's taunts towards the bandits stuck in his mind.

Wrecker worked carefully to tend to Crosshair's injuries, the removal of the shirt of Crosshair's black required but one he took extreme caution with. He had never been trained as extensively in field medicine as Tech - or Crosshair, who had been trained by Tech -, but Wrecker knew enough to help his brothers because that was his purpose.

As much as Wrecker was his family's strength and their demolitions expert, he was also their oldest brother. He had failed in protecting Hunter and Crosshair, and had failed in protecting Tech from going on a drone-like rampage of fury, but he would not fail Crosshair now. Not after everything Crosshair had done for him.

So Wrecker worked, splinting Crosshair's broken hand and cleaning the cuts in his back with saline, before he used the rolls of gauze and bandages to cover the fresh cuts in the sniper's back. He worked tirelessly until, when every cut in Crosshair's back and face had been covered and coated with bacta, he felt Crosshair exhale and sigh.

"Thank you, Wrecker," Crosshair whispered into Wrecker's chest as he knotted the fingers of his left hand against Wrecker's arm, "thank you…"

"It's nothing," Wrecker felt a choking sob claw at his throat as he spoke, "you protected me, Cross. This is the least I could do for you."

Crosshair breathed something into Wrecker's chestplate then, when Wrecker felt his brother's hand start to slip away from his arm, Crosshair slumped into Wrecker. He could feel Crosshair's breath easing, could feel Crosshair's heart slow, and knew his brother was asleep. With a small smile pulling at his mouth, Wrecker wrapped his arms around Crosshair then gently maneuvered the sniper beside Tech.

It was common knowledge amongst the Batch that Crosshair felt safest knowing Tech was close to him, and Wrecker had studied his younger brother enough to know that Crosshair would sleep easier curled up beside Tech. When he finally had Crosshair situated onto the bunk next to Tech - he did not miss the fact that Crosshair had immediately grabbed Tech's arm and was clinging to him as if he feared Tech would vanish -, Wrecker rooted through the medical bay until he found a large blanket Tech had purchased when they were cadets with his phycologist's credits.

Crosshair let out an easy sigh when Wrecker covered his brothers with the large blanket, the angry ste of his mouth and brow finally easing as Wrecker lightly ruffled his fingers through Crosshair's silver hair. "Sleep well, little brother," Wrecker rumbled as he backed away from his sleeping brothers, then headed out of the medical bay.

A worming feeling of disquiet and guilt still clawed at his stomach as Wrecker thought of his inability to protect Hunter and Crosshair from the bandits, of how utterly useless he had been rendered by a single paralyzing sedative. He had not even had the chance to thrash or throw off the bandits when they had attempted to remove his cybernetic eye. All Wrecker could do was watch, and he could not stand the idea that he had been rendered so useless.

Not when his brothers needed him to be their shield. Wrecker had failed in that regard because of the bandits, but he would not fail his brothers when they needed him on the Havoc Marauder.

He had tended to Crosshair, which only left Hunter, who he knew was piloting the shuttle and would be ignoring his own injuries and exhaustion over finding a medical frigate to land on. Hunter needed Wrecker to remind him that he needed a break, for it had always been Wrecker Hunter would turn to for comfort.

Hunter had sought Wrecker out for comfort only a month after he had arrived into Experimental Unit 99's ranks, at the tender age of four accelerated years of age, and from that day forward Hunter had relied on Wrecker for comfort. Wrecker always felt a surge of joy and love for his brother whenever Hunter woke him up late at night with a tap on the shoulder and broken, tired eyes, as that was Hunter accepting his need for comfort.

Their sergeant was always proud about his role as the leader and the source of comfort for all of them, but even their leader needed a hug and a strong voice of reason every once in a while. Over the war years, Hunter had opened himself up to Crosshair more, forming a bond with the sniper as he sought Crosshair out for his quiet emotions. But Hunter still searched for Wrecker late in the night, and only Wrecker had ever been allowed to see Hunter breakdown and cry.

"Hunter?" Wrecker knocked on the cockpit door gently as he spoke and waited for a response.

No word came from Hunter for a few moments before, with an eons weary sigh, Hunter finally spoke. "The door's unlocked, Wrecker. You may come in."

The formality of Hunter's tone alerted Wrecker to how strained and upset Hunter was and, without a moment of hesitation, he turned and hurriedly opened the slat doors to his bunk. His gaze snapped to Lula, sprawled out over the pillow on his bunk and snatched her up into the crook of his arm.

Tech had made Lula for Wrecker almost five years ago, the first time Tech had ever been able to show Wrecker that Tech loved him as much as Tech did Crosshair and Hunter. Wrecker cherished the stuffed tooka and knew what the gift meant to Tech, and that Tech had never intended Lula for anything more than Wrecker and to comfort his brothers.

Hunter would appreciate the grounding effect Lula would give him, especially if Hunter had suffered a sensory overload after the leader of the bandits had continually tortured him. Wrecker seethed at the thought of the bandits and how they'd hurt Hunter and Crosshair, but he stamped away the boiling rage as it started to darken his vision. He had to be in control while Hunter needed comfort, for Wrecker knew how easily his anger could control him in regards to his brothers and their safety, and he had to temper himself.

Once Wrecker had his temper under control, he headed into the cockpit to see Hunter hunched over the pilot's yoke, his jaw shaking as Hunter fought visible tears. Hunter did not notice Wrecker as Hunter's shoulders shook with quiet sobs, his brother blinded to Wrecker's swift approach enough that Hunter did not even react when Wrecker pulled his brother to his chest and hugged Hunter.

He felt Hunter still as Wrecker cradled his younger brother to his chest, his words of reassurance quiet whispers as Hunter allowed himself to break. Hunter's fingers clawed at Wrecker's chestplate as he shoved his face against Wrecker's right bicep, his sobs evident even as Hunter tried to muffle his crying against Wrecker. The sound of Hunter's sobs stabbed into Wrecker as he flicked the Havoc Marauder into auto-pilot, Hunter's agony a burden Wrecker would always bear but hated having to see.

"I've got you, Hunts," Wrecker whispered as he carried Hunter to the back of the cockpit, then slumped to the floor slowly.

Hunter did not seem aware of the way Wrecker cradled him in his arms, did not even grumble when Wrecker moved his brother to his lap and gently ran his left hand through Hunter's hair. The Batch's sergeant had always found the gentle tugging of his hair as a comforting sensation during sensory overloads, and Wrecker was more than certain that his brother needed the distraction more than ever. Unlike Wrecker, Tech knew how to braid Hunter's hair properly, but Wrecker was more than happy to comb his fingers through Hunter's hair.

After almost fifteen minutes of threading his finger's through Hunter's hair, Wrecker finally felt his brother let out a deep breath. Hunter inhaled deeply, his voice no longer cracked with sobs, then looked up to Wrecker with clear eyes. Wrecker smiled down at Hunter, then handed Lula to his brother with a broad smile.

"She's for you today, Hunter," Wrecker chuckled lightly as Hunter took Lula, jerked a stern nod of thanks to Wrecker, then buried his face into the belly of the stuffed tooka.

Silence soon filled the cockpit as Hunter continued to breathe into Lula's soft fur, but it was silence Wrecker was happy to give to his brother. Wrecker had learned the subtleties of his brother's enhanced senses in the years he had lived with Hunter, knew when Hunter needed touch or silence, and knew when Hunter needed his strength to focus on.

With his brothers, Wrecker held all the patience in the world, and that would never change. And so he sat, with Hunter nestled against his chest, and allowed himself to relax.

"Wrecker?"

Hunter's voice cracked through the cockpit, pulling Wrecker's attention down to where Hunter was peering out from between Lula's ears. Wrecker blinked down at Hunter then, softly, whispered, "You doing alright, Hunter?"

"I am better now, thank you, Wrecker," Hunter admitted, though his eyes flashed with a cold worry as he met Wrecker's gaze. "Please, don't blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't your choice to be sedated, and I know you would have fought if you could have. I'm just glad you are alright, that is all that matters."

Wrecker felt his heart drop at Hunter's words, the reminder of his complete failure to protect his brothers, a stinging Wrecker could not face. He looked away from Hunter, his fingers tightening in Hunter's hair, then released a deep, troubled sigh.

Hunter believed Wrecker could not blame himself, but Hunter was wrong. If Wrecker had fought harder, he would have been able to protect Hunter and Crosshair, and Tech would never have had to snap and lose his morality to save his brothers. It was Wrecker's fault, and nothing Hunter said could change-

Fingers brushed across Wrecker's right cheek, drawing him from his thoughts as he felt Hunter's thumb brush across his skin. Wrecker swallowed and tried to meet his brother's gaze, even as he felt tears slip from his eyes.

"Wrecks… You aren't at fault." Hunter sounded so stern, so strong and determined and firm in his convictions, yet Wrecker could not believe Hunter.

How could he? His brothers had been hurt and Wrecker hadn't been able to help any of them. His purpose was to be the shield to his brothers, not to let Crosshair throw himself into the bandits' focus. Wrecker was supposed to protect his brothers, and he'd-

The feeling of arms wrapping around his neck stilled Wrecker's thoughts in time to feel Hunter pull his face down to Hunter's position then, with a soft brush of lips, felt Hunter kiss his forehead. Wrecker blinked and stared down at Hunter, who looked utterly exhausted as he slumped against Wrecker's chest once again, utterly flabbergasted by his brother's gesture.

He'd seen Hunter kiss Tech on the forehead before, often when Tech was suffering through nightmares, but Wrecker had never had Hunter exhibit such an intimate display of affection for him. Wrecker continued to stare down at Hunter as he tried to register that Hunter had been so affectionate to him. Of course Wrecker knew Hunter loved him and trusted Wrecker, but to kiss him and be so affectionate?

Wrecker's heart warmed and, as happy, surprised tears slipped from his eye, he wrapped his arms around Hunter and squeezed his brother tightly. Hunter returned the hug and, quietly, the two brothers stayed in that position, until Hunter finally spoke again.

"How's Tech holding up?"

"He's alright," Wrecker sighed, his mind slamming images of Tech staggering through the cave system, eyes bright with fever and pain, "he has Crosshair with him. He'll recover… physically."

Hunter was deathly silent for a long minute before Wrecker felt Hunter's grip on his back tighten, and heard Hunter's voice shake with worry. "I can't stop thinking about what Tech did… what he did to save us. That wasn't our brother. He couldn't be... Not our Tech…"

When Hunter's voice trailed off with a defeated sigh, Wrecker pulled his brother into a tighter hug then buried his face into Hunter's hair. Wrecker understood every single unsaid word Hunter had held back, understood his brother's fear and worry, and hated how much his chest ached when he thought of Tech.

"We will protect him, I will make certain of that," Wrecker promised as he pulled away from Hunter's hair, met his brother's gaze, then slowly rocked Hunter in his arms.

Hunter's gaze fluttered, his eyes softening as Wrecker hummed and rocked his brother in his arms, a brief smile flitting across his mouth. Wrecker continued to rock Hunter, a gentle, soothing sway that his sergeant had always found to be a quick way to make him sleep, his thoughts easing slowly. Even after Hunter had fallen into a deep state of sleep, his breathing slow and his expression finally one of relief, Wrecker continued to rock his brother. He could not stop, not when Hunter depended on Wrecker's strength and fortitude.

"Goodnight, brothers," Wrecker whispered as he felt his exhaustion claim him finally.

Wrecker slumped forwards against Hunter as he lost his battle with sleep, the last images his tear-blurred vision understood was Hunter hugging Lula and Wrecker alike. A tiny smile cracked across Wrecker's mouth at the sight of Hunter accepting his comfort, then he too was dead to the world.

When Crosshair woke to the sound of the Havoc Marauder snapping out of hyperspace, he found Wrecker and Hunter curled together on the floor of the cockpit, Lula squished between Hunter's hands. Crosshair allowed a brief chuckle to crack from his lungs before he turned and took control of the shuttle, banking it towards the medical frigate with a soothing flare of relief.

His brothers had made it through their ordeal because of their close, familial bond, and that was the driving force behind the Bad Batch. Crosshair glanced towards Wrecker and Hunter, watched as Wrecker rolled onto his back and pulled Hunter across his chest plate, then smiled.

They fought only for each other, trusted only their brothers, and that would never change. But Crosshair, Wrecker and Hunter would do everything in their power to protect Tech - for Tech was their glue, their foundation and the soul that had revitalized his brothers.

For their little brother and each other, the Bad Batch would never falter. They would never give up, and Wrecker would always be their oldest brother. The lighthearted jokester who turned serious the moment he knew his brothers needed him, and the very source of Crosshair's competitive material.

Wrecker, as Tech, Hunter and Crosshair did, understood. All they had was their bond and their soul, and losing one brother was all it would take to end the very heart of the Bad Batch.