Work Text:
He’s hit with a wave of deju vu upon waking up and realizing he is in his bunk in the Marauder. Perhaps it’s the smell he’d gotten unused to, or the comfort of his bed that he’d forgotten — his quarters on Coruscant were cold, unwelcoming. A bed is a bed he’d think but could never deny how he missed the relief of the bunk he’d spent years in. A deep regret pools in his stomach upon realizing he’d spent as long a time away from the Marauder than he had been with her.
Hunter is not in his bed. He’s sitting against the wall of their room, quietly dozed off with his arms crossed. He’s seen this before — a distant memory for him now. Hunter could never help himself; he always had to watch over them when they were out for a time. Even if it wasn’t by consequence of his call, his protectiveness knew no bounds. A weakness, Crosshair would have deemed months ago in a futile attempt to belittle his former sergeant, but all it’s done is perpetuate more shame from Crosshair’s core. Whatever feelings of belonging that were here have left him just as quickly. Hunter then stirs awake from Crosshair’s shuffling, and the latter has to try not to look away from the hazel eyes he so horribly never wanted to face again.
Hunter had saved him. After everything.
Their wonderful Omega had been glued to him when the Batch blasted through. His strength was failing him — his only priority: save Omega save Omega save Omega. He’d never known love the way he’d grown to love the girl in their captivity together. The relief from seeing Wrecker and Echo for the first time again was solely for her. The awful armada of thoughts that once plagued him for going soft and growing to care for her ceased in those moments when she’d been pulled away from him, screaming for Crosshair — she’d truly cared for him after all he had done and that was enough for Crosshair to die happy.
But of course, the Empire wouldn’t let him die, and neither could Hunter.
“How are you feeling?” Those four little words alone have destroyed Crosshair and he finds that he indeed cannot face Hunter like this. Shame burns him up from the inside.
“Fine,” Crosshair lies. Physically, his body is worse for wear — he’s probably been out for a day to recover from the aftermath of his torture at Mount Tantiss, but he’ll live. Nothing hurts; probably thanks to painkillers. He scans the empty room, noting their solitude. “Omega?”
Hunter blinks and nods, brief delight taking over his features. “She’s asleep in her room.” His eyes grow soft. “She told us everything. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of her.”
Crosshair can’t dignify a response because there was simply nothing to thank. He fulfilled his duty towards her and his squad. Towards Hunter. They were all he had left, even if they hated him.
The silence fills the air. He realizes upon sitting up that he has a blanket on, and the image of Hunter placing him in his bed and thinking to cover him makes Crosshair warm and sick on the inside all at once. He tries with everything he can not to show the disdain for himself on his face, but it’s of no use. It never is with Hunter; he could always see right through him.
“I didn’t believe it at first, when they said you turned against the Empire.”
Crosshair blinks. Memories of Mayday and Cody flood through his head, as well as Omega’s capture and torture, memories of his blind chip-induced allegiance on Bracca and beforehand, his burning head, and the horrible things he’d said to Hunter that fateful day on Kamino. The look in Hunter’s eyes when he realized he was wrong about Crosshair still haunts his nightmares, and the aching glance they’d shared after defeating the training droids when they knew nothing between them would ever be the same again.
“All I had was hope that you did,” Crosshair says before he could think about it.
“What finally did it for you?” Hunter leans forward in his chair to get closer to him, clasping his hands.
“Met a reg. We were stranded together. It took us all night to get back to our outpost, but it was too late. He died, and the lieutenent… let it happen. We were only numbers to him.”
“So you killed him?”
Crosshair nods. For once, he is able to meet Hunter’s eyes without additional shame. “You know, I hate when you’re right.”
Hunter gives a sad smile. “I hate it too.”
Crosshair has to look away or he thinks he might die. Hunter has no good reason to be so benevolent towards him — like nothing has changed, but everything has. He barely manages to look across at Tech’s empty bunk before everything comes crashing down on him and his heart breaks into a million pieces.
“Tech’s really gone,” Crosshair utters, his throat clamping up. His batchmate, his brother, the heart of their squad. Not your squad anymore, Crosshair hisses at himself. He’s known, ever since Omega told him between sobs, but seeing the barren bunk for himself — Crosshair is destroyed. He stupidly blinks away tears and recoils from Hunter’s arms when he comes closer to comfort him.
“Don’t,” Crosshair hisses and Hunter stops, kneeling beside him on the floor. “Why did you save me?”
“How couldn’t we, Cross?”
“Tech should be here.” A deep anger burns in Crosshair, all for himself. “You should have left me there.”
“I couldn’t leave you behind again. Couldn’t live with myself.”
“I never gave you a choice,” Crosshair admits. “Keeping the kid safe was my only calling — I didn’t kill my CO out of moral obligation to you or them,” he motions his head toward the door, where the others lie beyond. “I did it out of spite, and with hope I’d get a blaster bolt to the brain right after I did it.”
Crosshair was loath to admit he feared facing his squad again. He wanted to die that day; knowing they were safe and together somewhere was all he needed. His fears came true and not with the horror of resentment and alienation he was expecting, but a genuine warmth that Hunter emitted from his very soul mixed with a painful shock written on his face in response to Crosshair’s confession.
“Crosshair,” Hunter says, shaking his head. His name sounds different on the man’s tongue and he ignores the way it makes him feel. “You’re with us now. Forget about all of that, please. ”
Crosshair says nothing in response. There is no way he can, not after what he’s done.
“There’s a planet called Pabu. It’s untouched by the Empire, and it’s where we’re going once we tie up loose ends here on Ord Mantell.”
Crosshair huffs. Hunter: always the optimist. “Even if it is hidden from the Emperor, it won’t be for long. He won’t stop until everything is under his control.”
Hunter grabs his arm. “We’ll defend it together, like we always have.”
“Why would I come with you?”
Hunter blinks, stunned. “What?” Crosshair doesn’t respond. He can’t risk speaking, or he’ll lose the game. I miss you. I didn’t mean it. I’ll go where you go.
“Cross, it’s over . We don’t have to be soldiers. There’s so much more to you than fighting. You can come home.”
Hunter’s eyes are pleading with him and Crosshair can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t know why he expected Hunter to understand, to be leaping for joy at the idea of never seeing each other again. He doesn’t know everything Crosshair has done, may even still believe that faulty chip is stuck in his head. But Cross had that removed exactly when he said he did, destroying any hope of reconciling with his brothers. Hunter hasn’t changed one bit, holding onto what he knows instead of facing reality. The bigger picture hasn’t registered even now, that Crosshair was a meaningless cog in the machine and that he should be dead in the ground.
“I can’t,” is all he says.
“Crosshair, enough. You belong here with us.”
Hunter’s hand is still on his arm, gripping it for emphasis, like this is where he ought to be forever — right within Hunter’s reach.
Crosshair shoots to kill. “I don’t belong anywhere,” he snarls. “Least of all with you.”
Hunter rips his hand away. Crosshair sees yet another bridge being burned in his mind as Hunter stands and looks down, disappointed in him once again. Grief wracks Hunter’s features, but Crosshair stands his ground.
“Goddamn you,” Hunter says. Just like that, he’s out the door and Crosshair is left with yet another hopeless feeling that he just lost one of the only good things in this awful existence. Facing Hunter like this was his greatest fear, and he wishes for nothing more than to have died on that mountain like he was supposed to.
He curls into a protective ball, pulling the unjust covers over himself and wipes away the wetness on his face.
…
Crosshair did not intend on a loud farewell. Hunter alone was enough for him to have a bare minimum excuse dodging Omega, Echo, and Wrecker. He doesn’t think he could take their objections — none of them would understand, and he doesn’t want to stick around and wait for them to. He passes a sleeping Wrecker and Echo, which only means Hunter is in the pilot’s chair.
Just one more battle he has to face.
Crosshair pushes back the curtain of the gunner’s nest to see Omega is sleeping peacefully. Pain grips him, and he tries not to startle when Omega blinks her eyes open slowly. “Cross’hr?”
“It’s me,” he says, keeping his face as neutral as possible. “Go back to sleep.”
Omega complies, too tired to ask any questions. “Okay,” she whispers. “See you in th’ mornin’.” He waits for her breathing to even out before he gives her one last glance and closes the curtain. She’ll be safe and cared for with them. He hopes Hunter is right about Pabu, for her sake. But Crosshair will still miss her.
He acquires what little gear he has. He’s shocked to find his old armor boxed away here — someone had the forethought to grab it the first time they left Kamino without him. He’d been so angry, but he’d given them no choice. He ponders bringing it with him before deciding against it. He hasn’t been a part of the squad in a long time. He doesn’t deserve it anymore. The last thing he grabs is his old toothpicks — it's been a long time since he had any.
To Crosshair’s dismay, the cockpit was empty but the exit hatch was lowered. It comes as no surprise once he descends that Hunter greets him once again with none of the warmth from earlier, only a disappointing glare.
“You’re wasting your time,” Crosshair says, tired and ready to get this over with.
Hunter crosses his arms. “Where will you go?’
“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me , ” Hunter asserts. Their eye contact is unwavering. Out here, the night sky is powerful, all-encompassing — there’s no sound but the wind.
“If you’re concerned that I’ll talk about Pabu, don’t be.” I won’t make it that long.
“I’m worried about you . Why won’t you come with us?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t,” Hunter scoffs. “And what about her?” He points across to the window of the gunner’s nest.
“I’m the last thing Omega needs.”
“That’s banthashit, Crosshair. That kid loves you, and you’re going to break her heart.”
“There is no place for me here anymore.” Hunter’s eyes grow confused, like Crosshair had spoken another language. He can’t bear another second of this. Why wouldn’t Hunter just let him go? “It’ll never be like it was. You can’t force it, so why don’t you spare us from anymore of your miserable attempts to stop me? Omega will move on. She’ll be fine.”
Hunter is quiet for some time. His face drops and he studies the ground. His hands are opening and closing anxiously into fists, and Crosshair knows when there’s something poking around in Hunter’s head, begging to be set free: his emotions fighting with his thoughts. Crosshair’s morbid curiosity gets the better of him. He grabs his toothpick, flicks it away. “Whatever it is you have to say, just spit it out.”
Hunter raises his head with furious, glistening eyes.
“What about me?” Hunter says. “How could you leave me?”
Crosshair is stunned, but he doesn’t break their eye contact. He hides behind a half-grin. “You left me first.”
“ No. ” Hunter closes the space between them. “When you said you hoped they killed you — how could you do that to me? How could you leave me?”
“What the kriff are you talking about, Hunter?” Crosshair’s heart speeds up. Hunter wasn’t always the most intelligent of them, but he had never known Hunter to be this irrational. “He deserved to die. I figured the punishment would fit the crime.”
“You didn’t think about how I would have found out? You didn’t think I could have gotten you out of there? Did you even think about what that would do to me?”
Grief wracks Hunter's face. “I never stopped thinking about you,” Crosshair admits. “I knew you would be okay… without me.” The pain circling in his chest has become unbearable.
“I haven’t been okay since the day I left you.”
Crosshair has to look away. The Marauder is seemingly closer than before, and so is Hunter. Hiding from him was never easy, not when they were kids and not now. Hunter always saw him for who he is, and a part of Crosshair hated him for that. His optimism would get the better of him, one day. Crosshair realizes pathetically he’s so far into his head that he didn’t notice when Hunter put a hand on his arm.
“Everything’s changed because of me,” Crosshair says, defeated. He has no hope of staying here. It’s not what he deserves and it’s not where he belongs anymore. What he wants means nothing when he remembers what he has done to Hunter, his squad, influenced by that damned chip or not. How Hunter could even stand to be near him is beyond Crosshair.
“Not everything.”
With those two words, everything falls into place when Crosshair finally raises his head to look Hunter in the eyes and realizes he was wrong, again. Hunter has never looked at him this way. There is so much affection mixed with a painful longing that Crosshair understands almost frighteningly that when they leave this moment in time, nothing will be the same.
“I’ve loved you my whole life,” Hunter whispers, his eyes welling with tears. “Please don’t make me leave you again. It’ll kill me.”
It’s too much all at once. Crosshair rips himself away from Hunter, turns around and falls to his knees. He clutches at his painfully beating heart and wipes away his own stinging tears. Hunter was never going to let him leave without a fight, and Crosshair curses at the ground when he realizes he had the power to destroy Hunter this entire time. Him, after everything. A mixture of warmth and nostalgia overtakes him and he tries not to sob when Hunter joins him on the ground, wrapping his arms around him. “Oh, Cross,” Hunter says softly, and Crosshair finally gives in.
“I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” Crosshair says between breaths.
“Please don’t go,” Hunter whispers, clutching Crosshair tightly.
They stay like that, soothingly rocking each other on the ground before Hunter’s releasing him from his arms to kneel beside him, grabbing Crosshair’s face and looking him in the eyes.
“This is where you belong. With us. With me.”
He brings their foreheads together, and Crosshair is overwhelmed by this much intimacy all at once, only reassured because it’s Hunter. His Hunter.
He’s still unsure about his future, if he could ever truly be forgiven by Hunter and his brothers. He doesn’t know if the two of them will ever be truly okay again — but he can try. Hunter has always been the eye of his storm, his greatest love and enemy, the worst and best thing that ever happened to him.
To live or die has been the horrible question of his existence ever since Bracca, when he’d committed the ultimate betrayal and almost lost the people he loved forever.
Hunter kisses his brow, wipes away Crosshair’s last few tears. He smiles and stands, his hand outreached.
Live to fight another day, Crosshair thinks. He takes Hunter’s hand.