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You wake on the Marauder to the sound of… Birds chirping outside?
Right.
You’ve landed.
The day cycle on the ship hasn’t yet begun, so it must be just around sunrise. Hopping down from your cot, you make your way to the cockpit, where you find Echo and Hunter. Smiling your greeting, you sit back into one of the passenger seats.
“Morning,” you declare, voice still scratchy with sleep. “What’s on the roster for today?”
“We need to lay low for a day or two before bringing this cargo back to Cid,” Hunter explains. “This planet looks habitable enough.”
“Tech and Wrecker have already taken Omega down to the riverbank to scope out the flora and fauna,” Echo muses.
Your brow furrows as you glance back over your shoulder.
“And Crosshair…?”
Hunter silently points one finger skyward.
You sigh as you rise from your seat.
“Maybe… He’ll listen to you,” Echo says as you turn to go. “He doesn’t want to hear from any of us .”
You offer what you hope to be a reassuring smile, even though you feel little enough of it yourself.
Since his return to the Batch, Crosshair tends to get in moods sometimes and seek solitude… Even if it worries the hell out of his brothers. If the man doesn’t want to talk to anybody, who are you to make him?
But you’ve been with the Batch long enough for them to recognize the growing… Affinity you have with their turncoat brother. Sometimes, they treat you like you’re the only person that can speak Crosshair’s language.
In a way, maybe they’re right.
But you wonder how many of them have guessed that part of your close relationship with Crosshair involves stolen kisses in back alleys on missions, all hunger and want and something far deeper than friendship .
Descending the gangplank, you’re met with the cool, dewy air of morning, lavender clouds heralding the coming sunrise.
You don’t have to look around too much before you spot him—Crosshair is seated atop a grassy hill overlooking the Marauder and the illuminating sky, one knee propping up his elbow. There’s something… Serene about seeing him like this, even though you know in your heart that he’s troubled. Sometimes it seems like he’s a man meant to stand alone, a stone soldier weathering every storm.
But where does that leave you?
Inhaling a sharp breath, you begin your walk up the uneven terrain.
You know he sees you approaching; he could stop you at any moment… But you ask anyway.
“Okay if I join you?”
A slight nod is all you’ll get, but it’s enough. You take your seat beside him, careful not to be close enough to touch.
Several minutes pass by in not-altogether-uncomfortable silence. Sunrise grows closer and closer; you watch in awe as the clouds shift from dusty purple to brilliant pink.
But the beauty of the scenery seems to have little effect upon your… Your companion.
“Is it…” You don’t finish your question; you hope you don’t have to.
“...Yes.”
Memories .
Any soldier might have cause to be haunted by some of what they’ve done, and Crosshair is no exception… But in his own mind, he has more to atone for than most.
You just wish to the Maker that you had some way to take the burden off of him.
“My brothers.” He continues, surprising you. You turn to meet his gaze, but his own dark eyes are trained firmly on the horizon ahead. “They know by now not to bother me when I’m…” He trails off, eyes finally darting sidelong toward you, if only for a moment. “But not you. I can’t seem to shake you . Why is that?”
There’s little trace of venom in his words, and yet they sting all the same. Why? Why are you intent on pulling him back from the brink?
“Crosshair,” you swallow. “Look at me. Please.”
You hate how desperate your voice sounds, but perhaps it’s what urges him to turn to face you at last, a flash of concern in his warm caf eyes.
“It’s because I’m in love with you. That’s why.” You breathe in and out shakily before continuing. “I woke up this morning and every morning wondering where you might be, and I think of you every night as I lie awake. So don’t tell me I shouldn’t care.” Your voice cracks on your final words, and with no small degree of annoyance, you realize that tears have begun to well in your eyes and obscure your vision.
You try to turn away, but Crosshair whispers your name—and just like that, you’re pinned in place by his words.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
“I didn’t…” Long fingers cradle the side of your face; you choke back a sob. “I love you. I love you, too, and I’m—”
“No. Don’t apologize,” you plead, before a woeful laugh escapes through the tears. “This isn’t, uh. How I imagined telling you, you know. But I felt like you needed to hear it.”
You open your eyes at last to find Crosshair’s gaze boring into you, as if in disbelief that you might really be before him.
He takes your hand in his and gives it a firm squeeze.
“I love you. I love that you’re stubborn and that you don’t let me lose myself. I…” Crosshair trails off, exhaling a shaky sigh. He squeezes the hand held between you once more, darting a pleading glance in your direction. “Stay with me.”
Sniffling through your smile, you tentatively raise your joined hands to place a kiss upon his knuckles.
“Always.”