Chapter Text
It took two days for Crosshair to show up at Fox's headquarters. Whether the delay had been by a deliberate choice to avoid coming near her or due to having to track his rifles down the hard way because Hunter had withheld the information, there was no way to know.
Shun'ad had been working her way through the mass of documentation behind the integration program when she got the notification from the front desk that Crosshair had arrived. Somehow her consenting to Thorn sending an account of her experiences to their baar'ur, Triage, ended up with her being put in charge of reviewing and updating the procedures for new arrivals to account for Core world standards. She no longer had too little to do -- now she had too much! She felt pleased that they valued her opinion so highly, but felt slightly overwhelmed by the amount of responsibility placed on her shoulders.
Which is why she'd complained to Fox -- not seriously, but in the way you do when your life has changed significantly and you don't know how to feel about it.
His reply? So typically Mandalorian. "K'atini."
Which? Not helpful. Shun'ad made a face remembering it, the same face she'd made at the time. She'd become familiar with the phrase due to Dah'lav -- it was one of his favorites. He'd never used it on her, and like many phrases, was colloquial enough that a dictionary did little to help decode its meaning. However, based on context clues, it meant something like 'you did this to yourself, now live with it'.
Seeing her expression, Fox had elaborated, "It's a lot of work, but I know you can do it. You defeated my flimsiwork demon; this is nothing."
"…so 'k'atini' is an encouragement?" was her question.
The way Fox sighed and pinched his nose at that before saying "Dah'lav" in a resigned tone? Still made her want to giggle. Apparently her ori'vod/buir used the phrase a little differently than everyone else.
Still, the work with the integration program would be over eventually even if she couldn't see an end in sight right now. Having her experiences taken seriously was a big change. It felt good having so many people think highly of her perspective. Knowing that her work mattered and would make a difference in how well other omegas adapted to life on Mandalore was highly rewarding. Still didn't make it any less difficult.
So when the comm had chimed, Shun'ad had welcomed the interruption in the seemingly never ending pile of flimsiwork. Explaining Mandalorian adoption customs and how they could apply to adults as well as children needed to be done, but wording it so it wouldn't be misunderstood but still would make sense to everyone hearing it was giving her fits.
And if only Crosshair had asked for her, it would have been a welcome and much needed break.
But he hadn't.
"Ma'am?" the trooper said when she answered the comm. "Crosshair's just arrived. And he's really angry about his rifles. I don't think I can stall him much longer. Did you want to come down?"
"I'll be right there."
It hurt to hear that he was here, but not for her. And then she rounded the last corner to the entry level of the keldabe that served as Fox's headquarters and Crosshair's voice caught her ears. What he said only rubbed her nose in that distasteful truth.
"Where. Are. My. Rifles. Reg."
Not a word about her. Just about his weapons. An unpleasant confirmation of his priorities. Had she ever been a priority to him?
And the sheer *rage* in every precisely enunciated word? Had Shun'ad skidding to a halt before rounding the last corner, chilled by the towering fury in his voice. The man speaking right now bore little similarity to the snarky sniper she knew and not just in how he'd abandoned his usual drawl. This wasn't just someone who was angry. No, the air itself felt charged, heavy with the promise of violence. In comparison with this? The controlled, disciplined anger Dah'lav that displayed at Kyrimorut? Seemed practically *playful*. What was happening here? The Crosshair she knew could be bitter and biting, but however cutting his words, she'd never been afraid of him. Upset by at times, yes. Afraid, no.
She felt afraid now and she wasn't even his target.
Worse, this behavior reminded her of other men in her life who'd also taken their anger out on others. A sick feeling rose up inside her.
Her ex-husband had been easygoing to a fault, one of the things that attracted her to him. And, as she'd found out after marrying him, easygoing right up until he wasn't. He'd only tried to hurt her once. And she'd gone with it, because he wasn't capable of hurting her. Capable of *trying*, yes. Capable of succeeding? No. The other times he'd lost it, he'd stuck to taking out his emotions by destroying furniture.
In retrospect, it wasn't how ineffectual his tantrums had been, it was the loss of control and that he felt justified in the harm he caused when he did so.
Maybe she was seeing things. Jumping at shadows and reading meaning that just wasn't there into his actions. But, based on her past experiences, right now? Crosshair's behavior crossed a lot of lines.
Unlike her husband, Crosshair would have no difficulty hurting her. While that was a quality he shared with every other person she'd met on this planet, what mattered was not their capacity for violence but their control over themselves -- and their willingness to exercise it.
Right now, Crosshair seemed willing to let loose. Over an object. And another unpleasant correlation that may not actually being in operation here but that she'd gleaned from experience anyway? Those who felt justified in committing violence over objects? Claimed to care about their so-called loved ones, but in reality treated those people like possessions. While they could be doting when their possession behaved, what did they do when disloyalty or misbehavior occurred? Well, in her father's case, such action met with instant, vicious retribution.
Shun'ad had already promised herself that, now she'd somehow gotten a second chance, she wouldn't be stupid this time. That however improbable it had been to be given this opportunity to find a mate, she wouldn't make the mistake again of accepting misery and poor treatment as inevitable. She would be forever grateful to the Skiratas for showing her that it *was* possible for someone to want to treat her well. And it had been *freely offered* to her.
The idea that someone she'd come so close to getting involved with would behave like that? That she'd come so close to re-enacting the same pattern? Nauseated her. Even if this wasn't what she feared, she hated having unconsciously sought out something similar.
She wanted to believe that Crosshair wouldn't take his anger out on her. Wanted to. But she couldn't. Failed at the outset. The idea had been put into her head and now she couldn't unsee it. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was imagining things. She probably *was* imagining things.
So why then did part of her feel like she'd dodged a blaster bolt?
"P-please, sir," the trooper at the front desk stammered.
Shun'ad closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The hell of it was, she had a lot of experience with these situations. And the one thing she'd vowed never to let happen again was allow someone to be victimized if there were anything she could do to stop it.
Fox was going to kill her, she thought, and stepped forward.
The movement drew Crosshair's attention sharply to her.
"Crosshair," Shun'ad called, attempting to pull him further away from the sacrificial victim manning the reception desk. "We're not holding your weapons hostage. I'm sorry if we made you worry. Honestly, nobody knew what to do they showed up here, whether they'd been sent on purpose like the note claimed or if someone had taken them."
She turned her gaze on the person behind the desk who was doing their best to pretend they were only a suit of armor, no people here, no sirree, *willing* them to take the out. "I'm sure that *anyone* would be glad to fetch them."
The 'suit of armor' ruined its inanimate impression by flinching. "Uh, I don't know if that's a good idea--"
She resisted the urge to rub her forehead. "You'll need Thorn to release them from wherever he has them locked up." If he *didn't* have them locked up, it was because he was *using* them, in which case she hoped Thorn would have the good sense to *claim* he'd locked them up because she got the feeling Crosshair really would kill anyone who'd had the temerity to mess with his possessions.
They still didn't move.
"If," Shun'ad continued, doing her best to spell out the situation to the hapless -- and apparently extremely dense -- clerk, "you go find Thorn, you won't have to be *here* anymore."
That caused them to suddenly straighten in their chair. "Yes, ma'am!" before immediately taking the opportunity to scuttle for the door.
Shun'ad only hoped they had the sense to actually go to Thorn or, preferably, Fox. Anyone else would only exacerbate the situation. (She put even money on Thorn going either way depending on how the mood struck him. He'd given himself away as a troublemaker with the burger thing.) Fox, she felt, she could count on to provide intelligent backup. To stay out of it until negotiations broke down, then either de-escalate or respond with swift, overwhelming force, depending on the best course of action. Only fools rushed in and Fox was no fool.
Also not likely to be happy that she'd had the chance to avoid this confrontation but chose to step in anyway.
Shun'ad had no regrets.
"Slumming with regs now?" Crosshair asked acidly.
The drawl had returned. Thank the little gods. Unfortunately that didn't magically fix things. Some small part of her had hoped that she'd been seeing things. Or that the anger would lift somewhat upon seeing her and Crosshair would be open to talking.
Unfortunately, however, Crosshair could not have been more obvious about still spoiling for a fight.
Shun'ad didn't know what to do. She ran frantically ran through her memories of all of her experiences under fire, so to speak, trying to find a pattern, something that matched the behavior Crosshair was exhibiting.
Unfortunately the only thing coming up was once again her ex-husband. While she found his affable calm front soothing, he'd maintained it by stuffing all of his real feelings down deep and denying they existed. Not exactly a healthy coping mechanism, but she hadn't had any room to talk given her history as a nymphomaniac stalker. Such denial couldn't be maintained indefinitely and eventually something too big to be stuffed down would arise and her ex-husband would fling all of his stored up petty little grudges out at once as weapons against having to face the thing that had wounded him so grievously. The only solution? Apologize for every one of them, with as much sincerity as possible (sincerity *not* honesty -- she'd done nothing wrong and she knew it). When her ex-husband inevitably ran out of complaints, the real matter could be gotten from him and a solution worked out.
Not exactly what was happening here, but it gave her something to work from.
So. Don't defend. Her innocence was irrelevant. Crosshair wanted a target and she'd turned herself into one by stepping in. However, unlike an actual target, she didn't have to allow his words to damage her. Only allow him to speak them until he'd drained himself of bile and was finally in a state to talk. Whether he would? Another familiar, delicate dance. Ask about the pain with care and kindness until, finally convinced of her sincerity, the truth would be revealed.
Then a negotiation could happen and she'd finally be able to stagger off, barricade herself from the rest of the world and rest her battered emotions.
Honestly? This entire situation with Crosshair was forcing her to face some ugly truths about her marriage. Like how she'd been *proud* at the time of having found a way to get through to someone so difficult, so determined to block out the world. A rare skill, but not one she could put on a resume, no matter how good she was at it. And yet, right now? Making herself a target yet again to defuse a man's rage? In retrospect, her marriage ending was the best thing that could have happened to her. She felt tired of this dance, not proud of her ability to tread the steps.
She couldn't and wouldn't blame Crosshair for being who and how he was, but it wasn't something she wanted in a mate. Not when she *knew* she could do better. Part of her mourned, and she comforted it with the thought that at least she'd figured it out *beforehand* this time.
Then she advanced into battle.
"Is that a problem, that I ended up here?" she asked, in a tone of neutral inquiry.
Crosshair chewed that over for a long moment, looking as though he were debating answering at all, expression sour. Finally he spat out, "You belonged with us."
"Did I?" Simple curiosity implied, nothing more.
"You know you did. You came to us before the Nulls stole you away." There was something bitter in Crosshair's expression, an aching pain.
"Ah, yes. About that. *Do* you know just how I ended up at Beviin'yaim?"
The sniper frowned, something like concern shifting across the planes of his face. "From what I heard, you went into heat and decided to come to Beviin'yaim and wait for us there. Are you saying that's wrong -- that they *lied*?"
"Or they wildly misinterpreted what actually happened," Shun'ad agreed. The smell of angry alpha shifted into something more protective and she felt something in her relax. Her idea had worked!
"And what did actually happen?" Crosshair asked, the first genuine question in this conversation.
That in turn made her feel safer in revealing her real feelings. "You sure you really want to know?"
"That's why I asked, princess."
Hearing the endearment? Saddened her. She wasn't that to him anymore. "Up until my heat ended, I had no idea either."
"Your heat must've came on suddenly then," he surmised. "You would have contacted someone otherwise. Without the warning, you ended up imitating a brittle alpha and went after us."
"Would I have? How would I know to contact someone? And who would I contact?"
"The integration program would have told you, of course," Crosshair snapped. "We dropped you off there, princess. I know our immigration procedures cover what to do in case of a heat or a rut. It's a basic health concern."
When she shook her head at him, his expression changed and the protective scent grew more pronounced. "They didn't include that? Those karking shabuir'e. That's completely unacceptable--"
He looked ready to go into a rant. Or storm off and kill someone.
"I appreciate the sentiment," Shun'ad told him, "But it's as much my fault as it was theirs and what's done is done. They didn't communicate the details well and I didn't listen. I'm working with some people to fix it, to make it more accessible to, well, I *could* say someone with different cultural biases, but really, let's just say that the system failed me and I failed the system. So, in a way, I'm uniquely qualified to help fix it."
"Princess," he said, more urgently, "*what happened*?"
"I don't know. I. Don't. Know. Do you understand? Blacking out during a heat like this has happened to me before. Many times. And I've had terrible things happen as a result." She took a deep breath, stare boring into him, willing him to understand. "But *this* time? Tech told me -- you were aware I had omega reaction syndrome. You. Knew. You and Hunter both knew! None of what went wrong this time had to happen. None of it!"
"Princess…" he sounded pained.
That soothed her. Pleased a vicious part of her that wanted him to *understand* what he'd done, to *know* how deeply he'd wounded her.
"I only found out after my heat that I had omega reactive syndrome. Didn't even know it was a *possibility* before then. And, as for what the integration program *should* have taught me?" She scoffed, shrugging her shoulders. "Why would I think any of that applied to me? I hadn't been considered a desirable partner when I was young. Why would it be any different on Mandalore, especially given how unfairly attractive you all are?"
"Princess--"
Shun'ad shook her head, cutting off his attempt to interrupt. "I get that you thought I knew what to do. When I got over feeling irrationally betrayed, I figured it must have been something like that. But the *moment* Fox knew I had omega reactive syndrome, he offered to help." She stared him straight in the eye. "You knew. You and Hunter both knew. And neither of you said anything. *That's* why I'm with a 'reg', as you put it."
He closed his eyes, looking pained.
Feeling sad, she sighed and looked away. "I wish I could pretend that it's simply a case of none of you wanting me, but then you pulled that stunt at Kyrimorut and now I don't know what to think. If you didn't care, then why did you come? But if you *do* care, then why didn't you say anything? Either way, your actions or inactions led to me stealing a swoop and heading out across the desert. Given that I don't remember any of that, I'm lucky I'm not dead. I wasn't in my right mind and, in any case, I'm not licensed to drive one nor have I done so since I was a girl and I wasn't any good at it even then. On top of that, I also broke into someone's home, yet another crime. Then there's the part where I don't know how badly I humiliated myself with my behavior or how many people saw me making a fool out of myself. And that was *before* I got fobbed off on three complete strangers, all of whom now know more about what I'm like in bed than *I* do because I didn't wake up, so to speak, until after it was all over."
She stared him down. "*None* of that had to happen. None of it." Shun'ad searched his face. "Why? Why did you do this? Why hurt me then pretend to care?"
He stared at her for a long, expression hardening, before growling under his breath, "Hunter, you *owe* me." Then, gentling again, Crosshair knelt down in front of her, reaching out until she let him take a hand and cradle it to his cheek. "Ni ceta, princess. You're right. We don't deserve you. For more reasons than you know. I'd say give us another chance, but it's too late for that." He looked bleak. "I know Fox and he isn't going to give anyone an opening now that he has what he wants."
'Ni ceta'. Another phrase she'd learned in school, mostly to compare it with 'N'eparavu takisit'. One was a deep, formal admission of guilt reserved for killing offenses while the other was suitable for normal apologies.
Crosshair was humbling himself to her and something inside eased at that realization. But, despite the gravity of the situation, his comment about Fox caused a giggle to escape her. "Why is everyone so afraid of Fox? Even you!"
"I'm not scared of him," Crosshair scoffed. "But," he admitted, "he's a wily chakaar. And even more vindictive than the Prime."
She widened her eyes. "More than *you*?"
For a moment, he forgot himself and smirked at her. "Never, princess. But…" his shoulders pulled inward ever so slightly. "S'why I was so mad when I thought he'd taken my kit. Figured he was trying to get back at me. Bitterly, to himself, he added, "Not that I don't deserve it."
She lifted her hand, wanting to ease his obvious pain, but unsure how.
He saw that and visibly pulled back, both emotionally and physically. Protecting himself? "Yeah," Crosshair said, leveraging himself to his feet. "That's enough of the heart to heart. Not like I have one, is it? Where's my Firepuncher?"
The scoff in his voice when he denied having a heart made her ache inside, but before she could do or say anything, a voice came from behind her.
"Here." *Very* close behind. It was unnerving how easily someone in full armor could sneak up on her.
She recognized Thorn as he stepped up beside her, thrusting a bag at Crosshair. "Look after it better this time. Because you won't be getting a second chance."
"No," he agreed, looking at Shun'ad, mouth downturned. "I won't. Take care, princess."
She got the impression they weren't just talking about the rifles or even about Crosshair's stand-off with the clerk. It felt like if she let him go now, she wouldn't be seeing him again. She didn't want that. Losing Shek'eta She'cu's friendship had always been her greatest nightmare.
But she didn't know what to say that would make this better. Didn't have the words. All she could do was watch him walk away.
Just before he reached the door, Crosshair turned. "Oh, and princess? When you talk to Hunter, let him know that I may not have won the bet, but neither did he."
And with that, he was gone.
"I get the feeling I don't want to know what he meant," Shun'ad observed. Her voice *sounded* calm, but she could feel herself starting to shake.
A hand descended carefully on her shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get you to Fox."
Shun'ad let herself be steered. "He's going to be so mad."
"He's furious," Thorn agreed. "You took a huge risk. Shek'eta She'cu's been known to hospitalize vod'e who cross them. You walked right into what could have been a violent confrontation."
"I couldn't let that poor clerk get hurt!" Shun'ad protested.
"That's our *job*," Thorn replied. "We're *soldiers*. We're meant to protect civilians like you."
Which? Okay, yes, she knew that. But in that situation--
Seeing her gearing up for an argument, Thorn added. "You're making us look bad. You don't want to make me look bad, do you?"
She could virtually *hear* his pout. Despite the way she felt like she was falling apart, she couldn't fight a smile. She knew he was trying to make her feel better and fondness welled up inside her. Maybe she could look into burgers? Find a way to make one that was special and not just a hunk of meat between two slabs of bread? "Well, I suppose I don't have any choice, not if it's making you look bad…" she teased, trying to claw back some normality.
"My blood pressure thanks you," and then he was holding the door to Fox's office open for her.
Sneaky bastard. Distracting her like that.
"Shun'ad." Fox met her halfway, stopping short to look her up and down. Unlike Thorn, he had his helmet off and she could see his face. Thorn said that Fox was furious. Fox didn't *look* furious. Worried, yes, but not angry.
"Are you mad?"
"Are you all right?"
They asked their questions simultaneously. Fox nodded to her, letting her go first.
"I'm fine," Shun'ad told him. "A bit rattled at being reminded of things I don't like thinking about, but mostly relieved that I didn't walk back into being someone's substitute for getting therapy. And a lot wobbly now that it's over with."
He nodded again, accepting her words at face value. "I'm upset, yes. At myself for not recognizing that situation was inevitable and taking steps to prevent it. At everyone who should have prevented it from escalating and kept you from getting involved."
He hadn't mentioned her. That seemed too good to be true. "But not at me?"
Fox sighed. "Can I hold you? I'd prefer to have this conversation with the physical reassurance that you're all right. And you'll probably feel better sitting down."
He made it sound like a favor to him, when really all she wanted to do was collapse.
She nodded and he scooped her up, taking her over to his couch, where he sat down with her in his lap.
Shun'ad felt herself tremble, couldn’t help the tears that escaped to roll down her cheeks. She didn't know why she was so weak, why someone as capable and caring as Fox would put up with or even want to be around a speeder wreck like her.
Dimly, she was aware that she was speaking out loud and that Fox was murmuring quiet, gentle words into her hair. But for an indeterminable amount of time, it all seemed very far away and all that she registered was the warmth and strength of his arms around her, keeping her from shaking herself apart.
When she came back to herself, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Sorry for crying on you. And thank you. You didn't have to put up with that and I appreciate it."
"N'entye," Fox said, nuzzling her hair. "I enjoy being able to care for you. You don't usually hold still for it."
"I… don't?" That was a new idea for her.
"You don't ask for help even when you need it, don't complain even when complaining would solve the problem and when you *do* accept help, you only allow the bare minimum. So yes, it's a pleasure to be allowed to take care of you for once."
"Oh." She couldn't quite fit that into her view of herself. She'd always seen herself as someone too lazy and weak to behave like a normal person. Too clingy, too pathetically dependent on getting a man's attention and utterly lacking in self control.
"Yes, *oh*`," he mimicked. In a softer tone, he asked "Can we talk about earlier?"
"Yes. Please." Anything to avoid more uncomfortable revelations about herself.
Burying his face in her hair, Fox admitted, "If you keep doing things like jumping into the line of fire, I need to get you into armor. You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation. I got the security feed up just in time to see you *choose* to walk into that situation and my heart nearly stopped."
"I couldn't let that poor clerk get hurt," she said in a small voice, burrowing into his warmth. His pain hit her harder than any amount of anger ever could. She felt tears welling up.
"I know." He lifted his chin to look at her, then reached out to cradle her cheek in his hand. "I appreciate that. I already knew that you would sacrifice your own well-being to make my people happy. It's an attractive quality."
She blushed at the candor in his eyes and voice. She couldn't help herself.
"And completely unnecessary."
Shun'ad sat up, tears forgotten for the moment. "Cross could have killed that clerk."
"Jex would have been fine."
"But--"
"Crosshair didn't have his helmet on. If you hadn't stepped in, I would have given the order to gas the lobby."
"Oh." She felt foolish now.
"And," he emphasized, "even if Crosshair *had* been wearing his helmet, a keldabe is designed for defense. There are security measures built into the walls and blind points where defenders can wait in ambush. Jex was -- or *should* have been -- stalling to give Stone and his team time to get into position."
She looked away, unable to meet his gaze, feeling very small. Tears threatened again despite the grounding warmth of his embrace. "You must think I'm an idiot."
He stroked her cheek. Voice gentle, he told her, "No, I don't think that at all. I think you're brave and too noble for your own good. You could use protection and some lessons on how to delay or disable an opponent if you're going to keep doing things like this. But most importantly?"
It felt like Fox was staring into her soul. "…yes?"
"You need to understand that you aren't alone anymore. You have backup. I'm here. My people are here. Traat'aliit gar hukaat'kama."
The words were too rapid to understand and not a phrase she already knew. "My Mando'a isn't that good. What does that mean?"
"'The squad has your back.' You have allies now."
That… was harder to accept than he made it sound. And at the same time something she desperately wanted.
When she didn't speak, Fox tried again, "Ketyahulye… I've tried to show you that you can trust me. If there's anything I can do to prove to you that I mean it, that you can rely on me, tell me and I'll make it happen."
She knew he was utterly serious and it humbled her. "I don't know that I can do that," she admitted. "Trust is conditional for me. Everyone I've ever put my faith in has let me down, even my parents. And not just in little things."
"Then let me show you I'm different. Give me a chance to prove myself."
She opened her mouth to ask how, because trust wasn't easy as all that, but he just leaned down and rested his forehead against hers.
"Ask. The next time you have a problem, the next time you need something but aren't sure how to get it or something's bothering you -- *ask*. Even if I don't have an answer, I'll do my best to help you find one."
His face was so close to hers. His brown eyes bore into hers and the sincerity in them pierced her soul. Her eyes flickered down to his lips. She wanted to kiss him so badly…
Another voice intruded. "Fox kept us alive and well in the heart of evil that is the Republic Senate. He can more than handle anything you can come up with."
Fox let out a deep sigh before pulling back to give her a rueful smile. "The thorn in my side."
"I should probably get back to work," Shun'ad told him, but didn't move to stand up. They'd never gone past kissing and even those were rare, precious things. As a strategy for making her want more, it was working all too well. Even being held by him was still a novel experience, one to be savored.
"Actually," Thorn said, "I'm here for her."
"Me?" Shun'ad asked. "What for?"
"More visitors. The rest of Shek'eta She'cu. Looks like they picked today to get their act together."
Shun'ad perked up. "Is Tech here?"
"Yes -- is there a reason you want to see him in particular?"
She grinned. "I've been working on a new recipe. Hunter didn't like the cookies I made for Tech -- said he ate too many of them and not enough actual food. Only it turns out that actual food just meant ration bars. So I came up with something and I want to see if Tech likes it. I brought some with me in case I saw him."
"He'll like it. Everything you make is good," Thorn told her.
She rolled her eyes. "You don't even like sweets."
"I could like sweets! I have depth!"
"Thorn, you turned down her cookies in favor of ration bars. *Ration bars*, Thorn," Fox drawled.
"I'm feeling very attacked right now."
Shun'ad patted Thorn on the arm as she moved past him, making her way to the desk that'd been set aside for her. Close to the commanders' area, it had clearly been a storage space not too long before she'd inherited it given the large, but mostly empty, floor to ceiling shelving on one wall.
Pulling a wrapped package out of the desk drawer, she headed back to the entrance of the keldabe.
The trooper on duty -- Jek? Jex? if she remembered correctly, and if he hadn't swapped out with someone else -- seemed less flustered when faced with the other three members of Shek'eta She'cu. To be fair, none of the three were glaring. She imagined they could be quite intimidating if they wanted to be.
Wrecker saw her first. "Shun'ad!" he called out jubilantly. "You're here!"
She all but ran to him, holding out her arms for the expected hug.
He didn't let her down, sweeping her up in a embrace that picked her up off the ground.
She'd missed this. "I missed this," Shun'ad told him, because he deserved to know. "I missed you."
"Aw," he said. "You don't gotta miss me. You coulda commed me. I always wanna see you."
She smiled at him, a little sadly. "That sounds nice. But I can't if your whole team doesn't want to. And I don't think they all do, not anymore."
"About that…" Hunter stepped up. "Wrecker, could you put her down? I'd like to have this conversation face to face."
"Oops," Wrecker made a comical face then set her on her feet.
Shun'ad turned to Hunter, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for whatever might come. Deciding to pre-empt the upcoming conversation, she threw out the topic she felt they would most likely avoid if she didn't raise it herself. "So. Crosshair said something about a bet. Want to tell me about that?"
"Is 'no' considered to be an acceptable answer?" Tech asked.
Hunter seemed taken aback and, figuring that if Tech was going to join in, she might as well get his opinion on the new variety of cookies she'd made for him, Shun'ad turned her attention to Tech. She didn't know how long Shek'eta She'cu planned to stay after all.
"After Hunter told me that you couldn't have my cookies anymore because you ate nothing but them on one of your missions, I got to thinking. And I asked around. I guess you mostly eat ration bars when you're on missions?" Seeing Tech open his mouth, she hastily added, "Rhetorical question. Anyway, I took some standard ration bars and did some experimenting." Shun'ad held out the wrapped package to Tech. "These are the end result. They got a positive response from my taste testers. I hope you like them. I do orders now, so if you do end up liking them, you can comm me and let me know how many you want and I'll make them and get them sent over to you at Beviin'yaim."
"You won't be giving them to us in person?" Wrecker asked, sounding hurt. "Why not? Don't you like us anymore? Is it 'cause we bet on which one of us you liked?"
She patted his arm. "It's not you, Wrecker. I know you've never tried to hurt me."
"But I have, is that it?" Hunter asked, with more than a little wounded pride in his voice.
"Haven't you?" Shun'ad responded coolly. "You certainly had no problems taking your temper out on me." Because, looking at it in retrospect, that had been exactly what he'd done. Much like Crosshair's behavior earlier that day, it was forgivable. Just not something she wanted in a mate.
An awkward silence grew.
"In Hunter's defense," Tech stated, "the bet originated with Wrecker and it was Crosshair who suggested adding stakes. Hunter--"
"Try the cookies, Tech," Shun'ad told him. "If you don't like them or if Hunter won't let you have them, I'm sure Wrecker will eat them. Either way, this is between Hunter and myself. You, like Wrecker, haven't done anything that needs an apology that I know of. If you have, then you can get in line behind Hunter."
"But there isn't a line--"
"Eat. The. Cookies," she repeated. "Hunter?"
"It wasn't like that," he protested weakly. "I didn't intend to get angry. And I wasn't taking it out on anyone. I just…" He licked his lips and grimaced.
She didn't look away.
"I don't know what you want to hear," he admitted. "I don't have any excuses. I didn't try to stop the bet--"
"He even joined in!" Wrecker chimed in. "It was supposed to be a game, though," he told Shun'ad apologetically. "I thought it would be fun trying to figure out which one of us you wanted. It wasn't supposed to be something mean or anything."
"It's *fine*, Wrecker. I know you meant well and that you would never have done anything if you thought it would hurt me," Shun'ad said, trying to communicate her utmost faith in his inability to deliberately hurt anyone he cared about. "It's Hunter I need to talk to."
Hunter took a breath and pulled himself to his full height. "It's fine. I accept the responsibility. I could have stopped the bet and I didn't. It was also my decision not to say anything about the possibility of you having omega reactive syndrome. But you need to know -- what Echo said isn't true. If you decide that you're too angry at any one of us to want to see that person again, you don't have stop talking to the rest of us."
"I don't want to stop being friends with any of you," Shun'ad said honestly. "But I think Crosshair is hurting too much right now to want to see me and I don't want to cause problems for Tech if it isn't okay for him to eat the things I make for him." She sighed. Accepting responsibility was not the same as understanding what he'd done wrong nor was it an apology. "And I'd really like to clear the air between us, Hunter, but it's sounding like things are too broken to be fixed."
"Hunter!" Wrecker blurted out, sounding alarmed. "You can't-- you gotta make things better."
She patted his arm, feeling tired. "He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to, Wrecker. It's okay if not everyone likes me."
Before Hunter could answer -- not that he appeared in way willing to do so -- Tech stepped in. "While notably different in texture from the previous cookies, the new texture is not unpleasant and I can discern no difference in taste. And from what I can determine with my scans, nutritionally they are indeed a suitable replacement for ration bars."
She turned her attention to Tech, feeling sad that she'd apparently lost all hopes of retaining the comfortable, easy friendship she and Hunter once had. She'd thought their experiences wrangling younger siblings gave them something in common, but apparently not. "I'm glad you like them. If it's okay with Hunter, I'll make more of them for you whenever you want."
"Can I try one?" Wrecker asked.
"If it's all right with Tech," Shun'ad responded, smiling at his enthusiasm. "They're his after all and he may not want to share."
Wrecker turned his begging to Tech, big pleading eyes, wobbling lip and all. "Please, Tech? Just one?"
"In my experience, it is never just one with you," Tech told him, but relented, handing him the bag.
Eyes wide, Wrecker looked at the bag. "Really? You sure? 'Cause this is a lot more than just one."
"I am certain. I have ingested enough to come to a satisfactory conclusion and as I am aware of where to obtain more, it is no sacrifice to allow you to consume these. In any case, I believe them to merely constitute a sample portion."
"That's right," Shun'ad confirmed. "It's a only a half batch, because I wasn't sure when I'd be seeing you again and I knew they wouldn't go to waste, but I'll be making a lot more than that if Tech ends up wanting some to take on missions."
Wrecker wasted no time opening the bag and stuffing a cookie in his mouth. "They're good!" he exclaimed, once he'd swallowed. "Lots better than ration bars!" He turned his pleading eyes on Hunter. "Can we have these instead? They're lots better."
Hunter looked torn. "We don't know how well they keep. They may not be suitable for our missions. And we still have existing stock."
"Pleeease?"
For all that she found Wrecker's display of begging amusing, it hurt that Hunter didn't trust her, didn't even think to ask if she'd considered these issues. Was this how Fox felt when she failed to ask him for help? That was an uncomfortable realization and Shun'ad resolved to both apologize to Fox and to do better in the future.
She didn't want to be here anymore. "Look," she said, interrupting their debate, addressing herself to Hunter, "it's clear that, for whatever reason, you have a problem with me. I don't know what it is and that's okay, I don't have to know. I… I really don't like that it means I'm not going to be able to spend time with the rest of the team -- you… well, I really liked having all of you as friends." Her mouth twisted in a half-smile, half-grimace. "This was my worst nightmare, you know. Losing you all as friends. I just didn't expect it to happen like this."
"Hunter!" Wrecker cried out in alarm.
"I know, I know," Hunter replied. He stepped forward. "Stop riling up Wrecker by talking about losing us. I already said that what Echo told you was untrue. If you're pulling away, it's because you want to, not because anyone is making you."
The accusation mortified Shun'ad. She wanted to say something, but Hunter was still talking.
"Yes, I made some poor choices, not shutting down the bet for one, but that's no excuse. If we hadn't gotten distracted by betting on who you wanted, maybe we might have seen that you wanted us as a unit." He winced. "Not many omegas are open to pack bonding and knowing that we lost out on having one who was because we were being stupid is painful."
"I would like to interject that I foresaw this possibility--" Tech began, then registered the expressions of the people around him, "and also failed, in that I did not make my observation known to anyone else. In my defense, I predicted that I would not be believed and that I would inevitably be proved correct. As indeed I have. I however did not take this result into account, which has may have been a serious error."
Shun'ad softened at Tech's confession. "It's all right, Tech. I don't expect you to get people. And that's not what I was mad about anyway."
"What were you mad about?" Wrecker asked hopefully. "Maybe we can fix it and you won't stop wanting to see us."
"We're not her mates, Wrecker," Hunter interjected. "She isn't going to want to spend time with us now that she's got Fox."
"Fox isn't my mate either," Shun'ad said sharply, "not yet anyway. And all I ever needed from you was friendship. Yes, I daydreamed about more than that, but I never thought it was something that could actually happen. Maybe it's a problem for you that that door is now closed, but the reason I feared losing your friendship is because I genuinely enjoyed being around you."
"You always smelled interested," Hunter protested, then looked mortified at his outburst.
"You're all gorgeous. Of course I was interested." Shun'ad sighed. "Tech, comm me if you want more of those cookies. Wrecker, you're welcome to do the same. Your candy is very popular; I make a lot of them. I want to say that you can comm me for other reasons, but this whole situation is uncomfortable for me and I don't want to cause problems with the team." Because it *would* cause problems if she lashed out at Hunter the way she wanted to right now. "I do want you to know that I'll miss you all though."
"*Hunter*…" Wrecker whined. "Cross is gonna be really upset if we have to tell him you messed up."
"Wrecker…" Shun'ad moved to place a hand on his chest, getting his attention, "Hunter doesn't have to apologize or feel any way he doesn't want to feel. It's okay. I'll get over it."
"But I *like* you. And I like spending time with you. You make yummy things and they're *fun* and just for *us*."
"Wrecker…"
"This is getting painful," a familiar voice drawled and a moment later, a lanky figure detached itself from the shadows. Crosshair.
Shun'ad's heart thumped. He looked better than he had when he left earlier. Like he'd had time to recover, even though it couldn't have been all that long. She might be glad to have dodged the blaster shot when it came to mating him, but she still cared about him and didn't want to see him hurting.
"You stole my rifle," Crosshair informed Hunter. "You *owe* me. Apologize to her."
"He doesn't have to--" Shun'ad started to protest.
The sniper held up a hand without looking back at her, not breaking eye contact with Hunter. "No, princess. You don't get it. Hunter *wants* to apologize. Don't you Hunter." It wasn't a question.
"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Hunter demanded.
"From where I was standing, it sounded like you were trying to justify yourself." The way Crosshair drew out his words made them into an insult.
Shun'ad could see Hunter heard it as well by the way he recoiled. "I wasn't--"
"Can't admit you failed?" Crosshair taunted him. "Being rejected hurt your pride? It's easy for you to tell us what not to do and claim it's for her own good, but you're a hypocrite, aren't you? Don't want us to talk to her about her heats because it'll upset her but then you don't either and when it bites us all in the ass, you can't even *fake* an apology for hurting her. Some leader you are."
"This is my fault, isn't it?" Shun'ad whispered, feeling sick and sad.
Wrecker wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. "Nah. This is just how Cross is."
His words were light, but she noted that his tone wasn't. He sounded worried.
Tech joined him. "While Wrecker is correct that Crosshair prefers to confront people directly on their behavior, his behavior now is unusually vitriolic, even for him. While the possibility exists that he is irate over Hunter's expropriation of his weaponry, I believe that he is in actuality expressing his distress at the loss of someone he had come to care about."
"I don't know if that's sweet or really really sad," Shun'ad kept her voice low, not wanting to interfere with the stand-off happening in front of her. She also feared Crosshair would take her regret for pity; she hadn't wanted to hurt him and while she might not want him as a mate any longer, her heart still hadn't gotten the message.
"What good will an apology do?" Hunter demanded. "It won't change anything that happened. And there's nothing I can do differently next time because there won't *be* a next time -- she's already chosen someone else."
"And they call me heartless," Crosshair scoffed.
"It's fine." Shun'ad extricated herself from Wrecker's embrace and moved forward to rest a hand on Crosshair's arm. "You can't force him to feel sorry or to care about hurting me."
He glanced sideways, looking down at her. "I *can* force him to apologize."
"You can," she agreed, because he was right, "but it'll be fake, just like you said. It won't help, won't make me feel any better."
"It would make *me* feel better," he grumbled, but lost some of the tension he was holding in his body. "But I suppose I can wait to thrash Hunter until we're back at Beviin'yaim. And, no, you can't talk me out of beating him up. If Hunter can't bring himself to feel sorry for the pain he's caused an omega, then I want the privilege of being first in line."
Shun'ad could hear the way he emphasized the words 'an omega' and remembered suddenly that on Mandalore, omegas were treated differently. While she'd been furious at how she'd been treated, she'd done her best to get over it because holding a grudge hurt her more than it did the person she had a grudge against. And because she'd just known that no one would understand how she felt. No use waiting for an apology from someone who hadn't done anything wrong. Her reactions were her responsibility, not anyone else's.
Except, as Crosshair's words had just reminded her, this was Mandalore. And that put a new light on Hunter's behavior.
She closed her eyes, a deep sigh escaping her. Yes, that did put a whole different complexion to Hunter's actions. "You're right," she told Crosshair.
"I am?"
"He is?"
Shun'ad ignored the byplay. "I forgot what it means to be an omega on Mandalore. I'm used to my heats turning out poorly and being treated worse than this. Yes, what happened upset me, but I'm used to things going even more wrong. And while I was angry, it was because it didn't have to be like that this time. You knew what was wrong and didn't tell me. As things go, that's a little thing and I would have gotten over it -- *have* mostly gotten over it."
Hunter looked up, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Then--"
She cut him off. "But that was before Crosshair reminded me that, *on Mandalore*, my feelings matter. That my well-being *is* important." Staring coolly into Hunter's eyes, she told Crosshair, "Kick his ass."
Then turned and left without another word. Because her back hurt and she needed to sit down.
Because she really needed to see Fox now. Needed to show him that she *did* trust him. Needed to shake apart in his arms yet again today.
And was very very grateful that, on Mandalore, she *could*.
