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Crosshair’s senses prickle for a cigarette. Hunter and Wrecker are still on radio silence, so Crosshair and Tech have nothing to do but stay on standby. Crosshair's a sniper, but even for him it’s mind-numbingly boring. There's nothing to do but wait for Hunter.
Not to mention, he's soaked in mud and water. Another consequence of his line of work.
“I know we’re on duty,” Crosshair groans, “but I need a smoke.” He sits against a ridge, rifle in hand. His fingers tap at it repeatedly, trying to distract his mind.
Tech sits next to him just as restless, shaking his leg as he sorts through his gear. “Hunter and Wrecker are not going to be back for a while.”
Crosshair straightens up. “Does that mean I can smoke?”
“Technically,” says Tech, “you can’t. It could give away our position.” He pauses to turn to Crosshair and lowers his voice, despite no one being around. “But if you can hide the smoke well enough, I could turn a blind eye.”
Crosshair grins at him, reaching into his tactical vest for his secret pack. He tears the waterproof wrap open and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter.
He holds the pack out to Tech, offering. “Want one?”
Tech eyes him, hands busy sorting out his first aid kid. “The answer to that will always be no,” he says in his usual flat tone. “You should know by now.”
“Eh, well,” Crosshair says around his cigarette as he lights it. “You’ll come around one day.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” Tech returns to sorting his supplies. Tucked into his IFAK is a photograph, yellowed around the edges from gun oil and grease. Tech wipes his hands on his pants and pulls out the photo.
It’s a picture of Tech’s girlfriend Phee, smiling at the camera with a large teddy in her arms. Tech had won it for her at a carnival a couple years back, on his first try. The shooting games had been a breeze for an active soldier like him. She had later distributed all the toys, but kept the teddy bear as a keepsake.
Crosshair still owns the little grey cat she had given him from their spoils, hidden away in his bag over at base. Soldiers aren't caught dead with stuffed toys, but Crosshair is the kind of man others don’t mess with. Except for his brothers, of course.
Tech runs his thumb over the photo, careful to not dirty it. A faint smile plays at his lips, but Crosshair can sense the longing in his eyes. He was his twin, after all.
“We’ll be on leave soon enough,” Crosshair says to break the silence. They had been saving up their days all year. "You'll see her soon."
“Given we make it out in one piece,” Tech mutters. He presses the photograph to his lips before tucking it away, secure in his IFAK. Crosshair has never questioned why Tech keeps his girlfriend with his medical supplies. He has a strong suspicion though, depressing as it is to think about.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Crosshair jokes, “Hunter’s going to kill us if we die before leave." He blows out a puff of smoke.
“He will also kill me when he smells that on us,” says Tech, nose wrinkled as smoke blows in his direction. “I will be blaming you, of course.”
“You gave me permission,” Crosshair hisses.
“I did not. I said I would turn a blind eye.”
“Same thing,” he grumbles. He keeps his drags brief, not wanting to finish the cigarette too fast. Curse this cheap brand with their loosely packed tobacco. Despite his efforts, it comes to an end, and Crosshair hides the butt in his socks. Gross as it is, he can’t let anyone discover it.
Now with nothing to do, he turns to Tech. “Got plans for leave?”
“The usual,” Tech responds, now busy cleaning his handgun. “I have some upgrades planned for the Marauder, but I will need Wrecker’s assistance.”
“Good thinking. He won’t be bothering me then.” Crosshair closes his eyes, trying to relax.
Tech’s mouth quirks at the corners. “What Wrecker requires is an outlet during leave.”
Crosshair shrugs. “Better you than me.”
“I will also be attending Phee’s graduation ceremony,” Tech adds.
He opens an eye. “Oh? She’s done with college?” He remembers mentions of her archaeology major, but the memories are vague.
“Graduate school,” Tech corrects. “With honours.”
Crosshair raises his brow. “Grad school? How old is she?”
“The same age as us, so twenty-four.” Tech tilts his head. “Why do you ask?”
“She’s done with it at twenty-four?”
Tech smirks, and he looks awfully like Crosshair when he does so. “Well, she is my girlfriend. And she has been considering a doctorate, so she isn’t done yet.”
Crosshair breathes out, leaning back against the ridge. None of his brothers had gone to college, joining the military straight out of high school. Brilliant, smart Tech had completed several college courses by then, but that was the extent of it.
“You could have been with her,” Crosshair mutters. “Graduating university.”
Tech tilts his head, considering it. “Then I would not be here keeping you company.”
“Good,” Crosshair grits, the wetness of his clothes seeping into his skin. “Your skills are being wasted.”
“Quite the opposite,” Tech argues. “My skills have kept us all alive so far.”
Tech was the smart one, the one with the most potential. He had even received a scholarship from a top school when he was a teen. He could have pursued it, instead he’s stuck out here in the cold, wet wilderness with Crosshair.
Crosshair opens his mouth to speak, but Tech cuts him off. “My place is with my brothers, Crosshair, and we all have a war to fight."
"We would have wanted you to go."
"I've made my decision, Crosshair. And now I must live with it.”
They enter a quiet once more. Crosshair slouches, crossing his arms over his rifle. His sniper hood doesn’t give him much cover from the wind biting at his muddy self.
This time, Tech’s the first to break it. “You didn’t tell me about your plans for leave.”
“Don’t have any.” It’s the same answer he has every year. “Sleep, smoke, catch a few lays.”
Tech levels him with an unamused gaze. “Your promiscuity will have undesirable effects on your ability to form relationships.”
“Suck it,” he retorts. “I’m a soldier, it’ll happen anyways.”
Tech sighs and leans against Crosshair, shoulder to shoulder. “It’s astonishing how different we are, given we had the same upbringing.”
“One of us has shit-ass goggles, for starters.”
"My glasses are fine, thank you. At least I don’t attend events doused in Axe body spray.”
“That’s Hunter, not me.”
“You and Hunter share personal supplies. Rather unhygienic, in my opinion.”
Crosshair groans. “I want another smoke.”
“Absolutely not.”
Crosshair shuts his eyes and exhales, long and heavy. He feels Tech shiver, so he slings his arm over his brother’s shoulders to share heat.
“You are getting me wet,” Tech complains, but he doesn’t push away.
They sit in another comfortable silence. It’s what Crosshair likes most about his twin brother, as opposed to Hunter or Wrecker. He knows how to enjoy an often shared quiet.
Crosshair begins to polish the scope of his rifle. Parallel to him, Tech sharpens his hunting knife. They’re still touching at the shoulders, and it's not in a distracting way. Crosshair will never admit he finds Tech’s presence soothing. It’s likely due to their lifelong proximity, from the womb to the battlefield.
“Crosshair?”
“What?”
Tech hesitates before asking, “Do you regret it? Enlisting, that is.”
Crosshair regrets letting Tech enlist, but himself?
“What else was there to my life? I wasn’t going to make it to college.”
“Now, now, you were smart when you tried.”
Crosshair doesn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “That’s the thing, Tech. I wasn’t going to try.”
Tech doesn’t respond, mulling over Crosshair’s words. “I do not see why you wouldn’t pursue a better future, knowing it was possible.”
“Not sure myself,” he lies. Deep down, Crosshair knows exactly why: he had never wanted better for himself. He isn’t going to tell Tech that, though. “Enlisting gave my life a purpose. It’s better than the alternative.”
Tech doesn’t inquire about the alternative, because he already knows. He was right there with Crosshair throughout high school, after all. Watching him cycle through all his vices.
Tech leans over and taps his helmet against Crosshair’s. A keldabe, the most Tech does to show affection. “The war will end soon. We will still have time.”
Crosshair isn’t too keen on it. They don’t speak much about the after, but Crosshair knows there’ll be nothing much in store for him. Tech, however, has so much to look forward to. A woman to build a home with, a solid chance at university, and a good career in technology.
If Tech ever asks again if Crosshair regrets enlisting, the answer will stay no. Despite all the violence and bloodshed, enlisting means watching over Tech's six. Keeping him alive, as his squad mate and brother.
The war will end soon. We will still have time. The phrase repeats in Crosshair's head.
“I hope so,” Crosshair says. For Tech’s sake.