The title this time was not taken from a Softer World (surprise surprise!) but it still isn't original. It's a line from the Daughter song Run, which you could put on to set the mood for this chapter, particularly the acoustic version. As well, the full title is supposed to be "the beating of hearts (like two drums in the grey)" but apparently that's too long for this website.
Warning for panic attacks triggered by traumatic injury in this chapter, so if you're worried about that just don't read this, as it is the bulk of the content. Your health (mental or otherwise) comes first.
Everything was going well until Craft tried to be a hero. It was a standard operation; hit the ground, hit some battle droids, hit up a bar with the rest of your brothers. And everything was going good, better than normal, actually, but there was a small village in the direction they were pushing the droids that the reports had said was uninhabited. Turns out the reports were wrong, because they'd almost cleared out the area when a little Neti girl ran out of one of the houses.
She was young, and obviously scared, and also right in the middle of a firefight. Craft didn't really think before he acted, all he knows is that there was a blaster bolt heading straight for the girl and his legs pushed him to jump in front of her. The last thing he remembered was his shoulders hitting the ground and an awful burning sensation in his upper chest before he blacked out.
Craft came back into consciousness slowly, and all he knew was that he hurt. It took him a while to realize he's in the med bay on the cruiser, and that Keeper was passed out in a chair beside his bed with his face pressed into the sheets. He always tends to fixate when he's on morphine (and if he's being honest, even when he's not on the drug), and today is no different. He watches the steady rise and fall of Keeper's back for what could have been minutes, but feels like hours until the other trooper wakes up.
Keeper raised his head and blinked slowly at first, before noticing that Craft was watching him. His expression brightened immediately. "You're up!" He said, and that's how Craft knew he was probably in bad shape, because Keeper looked both stressed and relieved. He thought that his brother worried too much, and so he tried to say that, but no words would come out. Craft's brow furrowed, and he tried again. The second time he managed a terrible rasping sound, and he watched Keeper's smile falter.
What's wrong he tried to say, and he still only made that awful sound and something in his chest tightened at the way Keeper leaned forward and grabbed his hand.
"Craft, it," he faltered and started again. "When you saved that girl, the blaster bolt hit you right in the neck. You're lucky to be alive Craft, but Oliver says you're probably not gonna be able to talk again." The heartbreak in his voice was palpable, and Craft didn't react for some time. When the information finally processed and Craft reached up to his neck and felt the thick layer of bandages that resided there, the pressure in his chest got worse and suddenly it felt like he couldn't breathe.
All at once his breath caught in his throat right behind the burning sensation showing up on his skin while the rest of his limbs felt like there was ice spreading through his veins. His vision was starting to go spotty when he felt Keeper lean in closer out of concern.
"Shit," he said, quietly, and then at full volume Keeper called for a medic. "Ollie! Oliver! I need some help over here!" A few seconds later Oliver appeared in his quickly narrowing field of vision, grabbing his shoulders and trying to look into Craft's face.
"Dammit," the medic said in a gruff voice that spoke of the end of a long shift. "He's having a panic attack. I— Hey, Craft, I need you to look at me, okay?" Craft pulled his head up to look at the older clone, but it didn't do much good because everything was out of focus and going dark and he still couldn't breathe.
Oliver continued talking in a calm voice, something about breathing slowly, but Craft wasn't listening much anymore. He didn't understand how the medic could be so relaxed when his entire world felt like it was shifting sideways. His vision was almost entirely gone by the time he felt Keeper squeeze his hand slightly. Some of his vision returned when he heard his friend speaking in a soft voice.
"Craft, you're gonna be okay, you're fine, you're safe. Just breathe, Craft." Most of what Keeper was saying was nonsensical phrases, but just hearing the stream of words seemed to help. Craft focused on the feeling of Keeper's hand in his, the gentle pressure on his palm, and slowly he started to breathe normally again.
When his vision came back in full, he saw that Oliver had backed away and Keeper had closed his eyes, still talking. As the icy feeling went away from his limbs, he felt the roughness of the sheets under his feet and it was almost too much but he was too tired to care. His arms felt weighted down and every small bit of movement took monumental effort. He looked down and saw damp blankets, and realized that he'd been crying the whole time. Everything still felt muted and distant and grey, except for the warm feeling of Keeper's hand in his.
When he finally stopped crying, Oliver shifted closer again. "How are you feeling, Craft," he asked. Craft opened his mouth to respond, before closing it and shaking his head instead. Oliver smiled and said, "Yeah, I figured. You'll probably keep feeling like shit for a while. I've gotta go check on my other patients, but I'll be back as soon as I can, yeah?" Craft nodded, and Oliver patted his hand on the mattress once before getting up and walking along the row of beds.
They sat in silence for some time, before Keeper stood up. "Move over," He said, and Craft was mildly startled so he shifted to the left to make room for Keeper to sit before he even thought about it. With Keeper pressed up against him, warm at his side, Craft was almost asleep when his brother spoke again. "You're going to be okay, you know," and Keeper looked so determined as he continued, "I'll make this okay."
You don't need to was what he wanted to say. Instead he pressed closer against his brother's side, head falling onto Keeper's shoulder, and grasped his hand tighter as he drifted off to sleep.
Authors Notes
Bit of a late update this time, because my week was epically shitty. And like, that doesn't really matter, but I want to try to stick to a schedule as a bit of a personal challenge. This whole fic is a challenge, actually. I want to work on my writing and my character development skills, and this is a fun way to do it, even if no one is reading this and I'm just screaming into the void about my sons that I care too much about.
Poor Craft though. This boy goes through so much (which is all my fault) but he deserves a break. All he wanted to do was save that little girl, which he did, in case you were wondering. But like Craft does continue to suffer from panic attacks after this, it's just kind of the start. And Keeper is so good, so protective. He just wants to keep his brothers safe, and at this point Craft is the last of his batch brothers so he's extra protective of that small child. They just care so much about each other it hurts my heart in the best way.
