Chapter Text
In the Rebellion, Omega is a captain. She has rebel fighters under her command and direction. She gives orders and they are followed. She plans missions and carries them out successfully. She is trusted, respected, and capable of any feat given to her.
On Pabu…
“You better not try to get up while I’m gone,” Crosshair says, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed.
Omega sighs, picking at a loose thread on the hem of Wrecker’s old shirt. “Yeah, so you’ve said. Twice .”
“Because it’s important that you listen .”
“AZI said I could walk around on my leg as long as I’m careful,” Omega protests, and she hates that her tone comes out almost whiny. “So did the medics at the base. You guys are making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
“ Humor us then.” Crosshair doesn’t wait for her to snark something back before he walks away. The front door opens and shuts, and she is left in the quiet house by herself.
Wrecker is down at the docks to buy fresh fish for dinner, and Hunter still hasn’t returned from wherever he disappeared to. Crosshair didn’t say where he was going; however, Omega hopes that it’s to find Hunter. She’d go herself if it weren’t for the overbearing nanny droid that looks suspiciously like an ex-Republic sniper.
Omega pulls out her data pad and sends Hera a message. You’ll be happy to know that my brothers are being as insufferable as you hoped.
The reply comes a moment later. Good. I better not see you for six weeks.
Yes, sir, Omega types back, hoping Hera reads it with its intended sarcasm.
That taken care of, Omega tosses her data pad to the other end of the couch and sinks back into cushions. She looks around the main room, searching for things that might have changed while she’s been away; however, it is exactly as she remembers. Her brothers’ valiant attempts at home decor are still scattered throughout the room. Endearing eyesores , Echo had called them once when Omega complained about Wrecker putting up a piece of rusted metal he’d fished out of the sea.
“He said it’s his favorite shape,” Omega had groaned, laughing. “I don’t even know what that shape is !”
Hunter had bought a painting from the market that he claimed was abstract art ; however, everyone knew that it was just a horribly, awfully painted tooka. Its eyes seemed to follow you around the room, becoming an inside joke: the tooka sees everything . However, Hunter will defend the “art’s” honor to his dying breath.
Then there was Crosshair’s contribution, which Omega swears he did just because he knew it would annoy her. He collects rocks. Not pretty or unique rocks. Plain, nondescript, ugly rocks . He keeps hanging up shelves to display them on, and he makes them placards to note where they were found and the date.
“Rock.” Found: South Beach, Main Island, Pabu. Date: 15 BBY.
“Rock.” Found: Left Boot, Main Island, Pabu. Date: 12 BBY.
Omega does notice that a shelf has been added and a new row of rocks begins to line the plank of wood. She rolls her eyes. Omega decides that she will not give her brother the satisfaction of knowing whether or not she’s noticed. The perfect payback, because she knows he’ll never ask.
**
“We’ve had worse injuries,” Crosshair says behind him.
Hunter scoffs, seizing another weed by its base and yanking it out of the ground. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” Crosshair says, moving to lean against the wall, “just stating a fact.”
“Appreciate it,” Hunter growls, rummaging through the foliage of the garden for another imposter.
“I’m surprised you didn’t storm further away from the house.”
“I didn’t storm .”
Crosshair huffs. “You had us fooled.”
Hunter sits back on his heels and glares up at his youngest brother. “If you’re out here just to offer commentary, I really don’t need it right now.”
“Oh, really,” Crosshair drawls. “And what do you need?”
“I need to not think about it right now,” Hunter bites out, dusting the dirt from his hands. “I don’t want to think about Omega almost dying. I don’t want to think about her putting herself at risk every single day. I don’t want to think about the fact that we aren’t there to protect her because…”
“We’re old?” Crosshair supplies.
Hunter makes a face. “That’s not why.”
Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Whatever our reasons are for not fighting , it doesn’t matter…Omega’s made her choice. So don’t think about all that entails right now…because you have no control over any of it anyways. Instead, think about the fact that Omega’s stuck with us for the next six weeks and what we’re going to do with her while she’s in captivity.”
Hunter scoffs, moving to stand up and accepting Crosshair’s outstretched hand when it’s offered. “I forgot how poetic you are.”
“One of my many talents,” Crosshair says loftily, but he moves his hand to Hunter’s shoulder, gripping it tight. “But I mean it, Hunter. We’re going to put our opinions aside, enjoy the time we have with her. Yeah?”
Hunter swallows and nods.
“Good.”
As they start for the back door, Crosshair asks, “Do you think Omega’s noticed my new shelf of rocks.”
Hunter grins. “She won’t say if she has.”
“Brat,” Crosshair grumbles.
“Says the one who keeps a rock collection just to annoy her,” Hunter says, bumping against Crosshair.
Crosshair smirks. “A foundless accusation.”