Actions

Work Header

Interlude

Summary:

Hunter’s plan sucks. But a promise is a promise, and Crosshair needs to know. Told from Hunter’s POV.

Work Text:

“This is a stupid plan,” he muses to no one in particular, perched on a rock in the middle of a desert on… well, actually, he wasn’t sure what planet they were on.

“I must remind you that this was your plan,” comes Tech’s voice in his ear, and he’d never wanted to punch his brother in his know-it-all face more. 

Yeah, it was his plan. Yeah, it wasn’t his best one. But what could he kriffing do ? There wasn’t exactly a manual for how to tell your brother (whose cheese has debatedly slipped off his cracker) that you finally found his (ex?) lover who had run off and oh yeah, she had his baby while she was MIA. 

Yeah, Hunter was pretty sure he was fucked. 

In hindsight, this “plan” wasn’t much of a plan at all. Set up a fake mission on a remote planet, “forget” to encode a transmission about said plan and the location, show up, and wait. He just didn’t expect to be waiting in this blasted sun for this kriffing long. 

So, it’s almost a relief when he senses his brother’s presence, confirmed by a bolt from his rifle hitting the sand a few feet to his left.  

“Out here all alone?” Comes a sneer from over his shoulder, and Hunter turns to see Crosshair striding across the sand  towards him. He holds his hands up in surrender, praying to the maker that this wouldn’t end up with him captured or dead. 

“I knew you’d come,” he shrugs, “didn’t see a need for backup.”

Crosshair keeps advancing, rifle never lowering. “Maybe you should’ve,” he taunts. “What is this, anyway? A setup?”

Hunter sighs, lowering one hand to scrub across his face. “If it was a setup, it obviously isn’t working. And you wouldn’t have come if you thought it was.” 

“Then what do I think it is?” He drawls, now within arms reach ofHunter. 

“You think I know where she is. And I do,” he states simply. 

Crosshair unceremoniously drops his rifle, opting instead to attempt to deck his brother in the face, which Hunter easily blocks. 

“You’re lying,”  he hisses, trying and failing to wrench his fist from Hunter’s grasp. “She’s dead .”

“Dead? Or dead to you?” He asks, leveling him with a glare. “I saw her, Crosshair. She’s alive. She misses you. Probably about as much as you miss her.”

Crosshair jerks his arm again, but Hunter still refuses to release him. He shoots his best “No. It’s not… she’s not. She left me. And then she died,” he whispers menacingly, and Hunter swears he can see tears forming in his eyes, his resolve cracking in the face of Hunter’s certainty. Hunter doesn’t let go, keeping his grip tight on his brother’s hand, almost as if the physical connection would force Crosshair to believe what Hunter is about to say to him, even if they both knew he’d never lie to him. 

“She’s alive. She loves you. She wants you to find her.” Hunter asserts, yanking Crosshair’s arm down before releasing his grip. The two men stare at each other for what could be an eternity before Hunter breaks. 

With a sigh, he unclips a puck from his belt and chucks it at Crosshair’s feet. “Her coordinates are in there. She’s on Wrea. Do what you want with that information.”

As he turns to leave he pauses and looks back to his brother, who is now cradling the puck like it’s the most precious thing in the galaxy. He has the map open, and is staring at the blinking dot as if it contains all his hopes and dreams, and all of his worst fears. Hunter can’t recall ever seeing anyone so conflicted… certainly not Crosshair. 

“A word of advice,” he calls back. “Keep an open mind when you go to find her. She’s not the same as she was. She’s… there’s more.”

The sound of acknowledgement Crosshair makes is meant to be a grunt, of that Hunter is sure, but it comes across as damn near close to a whimper. And maybe, just maybe, he thinks, Crosshair is feeling vulnerable enough to finally come home. To find you, and find his place with the Batch again. 

He slowly walks up to him, and can practically feel the emotions rolling off the man. He can feel his nerves, the hope and apprehension singing through them in the face of something wants but doesn’t dare believe he can have. Hunter gently places a hand on his shoulder in a silent question, the “come with us” implied in the gentle pull on his brother’s shoulder. When Crosshair whips around, his usual guarded exterior is back up, and Hunter has his answer. 

With that he strides away towards the rendezvous point, leaving Crosshair to make his decision alone.

Series this work belongs to: