Summary: "Echo climbs to his feet as she approaches them. Crosshair's already standing- he never sat down to begin with- and a sleeping Omega is burrowed into Wrecker's side." A terrorist explosion nearly takes Tech's life. One-shot. Post S1.
The Torture Of Waiting
Hunter will never forget the grip of worry on his heart as the Mirialan doctor accompanied the two men that held the stretcher, Tech's limp, battered body partly hanging off of it.
Omega's hiding her face in Wrecker's side, trying not to cry. Echo's face carefully conceals his emotions, but his mechanical legs bounce nervously. Not even the usually-stoic Crosshair can find the heart to complain about it.
"He's going to be fine, Omega- he always is." Wrecker promises.
"Bet his body was already going cold." Crosshair mutters darkly.
Omega sniffles.
"Don't say that!" Hunter snaps- because it's closer to the truth than he wants to hear.
Tech's never seemed so still, so close to death- and he's been there dozens of times, clinging to Hunter or the others with every ounce of strength left in his broken body, gasping for breath.
But this time had been different.
At the same time that his body had been burning up in the wake of the terrorist explosion, Hunter could feel the warmth seeping out of it. The worst part of it was how he had already been unconscious, the blast having knocked him out cold. He would have thought that he was dead, if it hadn't been for his enhanced senses locking onto the rapidly beating pulse.
"He'll be fine." Echo tells them, his voice little more than a murmur in his worry. He sounds almost as though he's trying to reassure himself. "He'll be fine."
What if he's not? Hunter will never forgive himself if Tech doesn't wake up. It was my job to protect you.
By now, it's been hours since the Mirialan woman led Tech away from them.
And Hunter's beginning to believe that he won't see Tech come back down the hall.
But his senses are tuned in on the heartbeat of his youngest brother. It's still beating, still fighting. Because Tech's stronger than he looks- always has been. Just hold on, Tech.
Hunter loses it.
The heartbeat. And the pulse.
"...No." He whispers, eyes wide, staring into the distance in a horrified disbelief. Tech...
"Hunter?" Echo inquires.
He shakes his head, shoves his hands into his hair and stares at the floor.
Tech can't be dead.
Tech can't be dead.
Tech can't be dead.
But there's no heartbeat.
It's well into the early hours of the morning when the doctor finally comes back into the musty waiting lobby from behind the double doors that lead to the medical rooms. Her expression is carefully guarded, revealing nothing.
Echo climbs to his feet as she approaches them. Crosshair's already standing- he never sat down to begin with- and a sleeping Omega is burrowed into Wrecker's side.
Hunter covers his ears to try to block out the news.
"How is he?" Echo asks, his worry bleeding into his voice.
"Sleeping." The Mirialan says it in an almost mournful way, and a new pang of grief tears through Hunter's heart. I'm sorry, Tech. I failed you.
"What do you mean 'sleeping'?" The former ARC questions, his voice a little sharper. "He is still alive, right?"
"Yes."
Hunter's head shoots up so fast that he's dizzy, lets his jaw slide open in surprise.
"He has been stabilized and is resting." The doctor reports.
"Can we see him?" He blurts, the relief pulsing so strongly through his chest that he almost can't breathe.
"Only one of you may see him." The Mirialan informs them. "We do not have the space for all of you back there."
Hunter can't help but to glance back at the others. He gets a couple of encouraging nods in response- they understand that he needs this, to see Tech and to feel the warmth of his skin beneath his palms. "I'll go."
"Give him a hug for me." Wrecker says. "And Crosshair."
"Please, don't." Crosshair groans and tries to look disinterested, his face twitching as he turns away from them. "Just go."
The faintest smile curls at Hunter's lips, and he nods as he turns to go.
Tech is alive.
His body is stiff when he awakes. It's a struggle to open his eyes, to force himself from the strong pull of sleep. The room smells of the sterility of a medical facility, reeks the odor of burnt flesh and melted duraplast. He doesn't hear the familiar beep of a heartbeat monitor.
His eyes aren't even open yet when the pain hits into him like a speederbike. He moans, squeezes his eyes tighter, tries to curl around his stomach- that's where some of the worst of the pain is. His thighs feel impossibly worse.
There's a soft voice, a hand gently combing through his hair.
"Hunter?" He croaks, throat dry.
"Yeah, it's me." His brother assures him. "I've got you, vod'ika."
What happened?
He truly has no clue why he's in a medical facility. Is he supposed to remember?
"Do you remember what happened?"
He shakes his head.
"There was a...terrorist attack. You were caught in the explosion." Hunter tells him.
What?! Worry floods through him and this time, his eyes fly open to meet his brother's. He's thankful that the lighting in the room is poor, for a migraine upon opening his eyes to an intense light without his goggles is something he does not need. "A-are...the others-?"
"They're fine." He promises. "You were the only one close enough to really get hit."
A wave of relief washes over him.
Hunter's eyes are sharp on him, refusing to look away. His voice is quiet as he reaches for something nearby and hands it to him. "Here. The doctor said you might want this."
It's a small cup of water. And- thank the Force- painkillers. He doesn't hesitate to sit up properly to swallow them, despite the flare of agony that courses through him at the movement.
"Something else is bothering you." Tech observes through bleary vision, his voice stronger.
"You always know." His brother's lips quirk sadly.
"You do not try very hard to hide it." He tells him.
Hunter's silent for a long moment before he finally speaks up again. "When I was with the others, waiting- Tech, your heart stopped. You were dead."
"Are you sure I was not in the middle of the explosion?" He frowns, lifts a heavy arm to look at one of the burns on it. The worst peeks out from beneath the short sleeve of his civvie-shirt.
"It was a pretty big explosion." His brother says. "Burned through your blacks. If you didn't have your armor, you would've died in the blast."
Right. Melted duraplast. "That will be fun to repair."
"It's not as bad as it smells." Hunter promises.
"Did they mention when they plan to release me?" He asks.
"They'll let you go once you have more of your strength back." His brother relays. Tech opens his mouth to protest, but is cut off. "You can barely lift your arms."
He sighs.
"You'll be back on your feet before you know it." Hunter's voice is warmer now.
"I hope so." Tech mutters.
"Wrecker wanted me to hug you for Crosshair." The older clone chuckles.
Even he can't hold back the beginnings of a smile. "I imagine he was not too enthusiastic about that idea."
"They're all looking forward to seeing you." Hunter tells him, pats his shoulder with an uncertain gentleness, so as not to aggravate any burns. "You should get some rest. We'll have your goggles cleaned up for you when you wake up."
Tech reluctantly nods and lays back. "Thank you, Hunter."
His brother nods, doesn't leave his side until sleep has pulled him in.
The others are utterly overjoyed to see him, and he's grateful that his heart decided to reboot itself instead of shutting down entirely.
Because he doesn't know what his family would do without him, nor he without them.