Work Text:
The knock on your door is so quiet, it seems as though the person on the other side is second-guessing every move. You pause your holofilm, glancing at the clock and grumbling that it’s far later than you thought. Must have lost track of time as usual. Pulling your robe around you and fastening it around your waist, you shuffle to the entryway, grabbing your blaster out of habit. No matter how much of a backwater planet this is, you’ve heard stories of the Empire showing up with zero warning and wrecking an entire way of life, and you’re not about to lose everything you’ve worked so hard to protect.
A glance through the peephole freezes you in your tracks.
You look to the side, scanning the perimeter cameras to see if there’s anyone else on the property. You can’t believe your eyes. But something inside of you is compelling you, more strongly than you’d ever have anticipated, but then again, you’d never have thought something like this would happen. You press the button and the front door whooshes open.
“Crosshair?!” you whisper in disbelief, taking in his very different appearance. There’s a girl at his elbow, looking tired but curious, and they’re both in some weird white outfits covered in mud and grass stains. “What the kriff…”
“Can we come in?” His voice is broken. Weathered. It taps at the edges of your fortified heart.
“You alone?”
“Very.”
* * *
The fire has grown low in the hearth, reduced to the occasional flicker above glowing coals that emit a cozy scent. The girl, Omega as you’ve learned, is fast asleep on the couch, and Crosshair is hunched in the armchair across from you. You’ve never seen him look like this – his silver hair is gone, replaced by a hint of stubble and a hideous scar. He seems a shell of what he was, and you yearn to ask him everything, but he looks so, so tired. They’d both been grateful for the soup you offered, but no amount of insistence on your part had been able to convince him to take a nap in your bed. So instead you sat quietly in the living room, alternating between sporadic, pointless conversation and long stretches of silence.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” you confessed, trying to keep your tone neutral.
“Sorry,” he muttered, saying nothing else.
“What… uh… What are you doing? Like… Why are you here?”
“The long-range communicator on the shuttle was damaged. We need to contact our… Some others.”
“Ah. I don’t have anything like that…”
“Where’s the closest comm center?”
“I can show you tomorrow.”
“Mmm.”
“Crosshair?” you said, more softly now. The faintest wince crossed his face before disappearing without a trace. He lifted his sharp eyes to your face, his face completely passive, and waited. “I don’t know what all you’ve been through, but…” You faltered, unsure what you were even trying to express. A quick sigh, a shift of the gaze, a reposition in your seat… “Well, just let me know how I can help.”
He nodded, eyes drifting back to the floor beneath shoulders that hunched beneath a thousand regrets.
* * *
You’d apologized a few times about the scattered assortment of food in front of your guests, having had to throw together a dinner the next day with what you had left in your cooling chamber and cupboards. Money was tight and the added mouths made it difficult. But you’d managed to scrounge something acceptable, and Omega had gratefully proclaimed that it was more than enough. Better than the bland nuggets she’d survived on for months, at least. Crosshair was silent, but the way he ate – intentionally and without hurry – hinted at a bit of enjoyment.
The comm center had been mercifully empty, allowing them to get a transmission out, but there had been no reply. Crosshair’s encryption knowledge was impressive, and you made plans to return the next day to see if there would be any response, although he seemed fairly certain there would not be. Omega refused to believe such a thing, insisting that things would only get better from here.
Another night of staring silently at each other across the tiny living room, with the girl sleeping fitfully on the couch and your feet stretched out opposite his. He’d slept in the armchair the night before, and you’d accidentally woken him with a start when you appeared in the kitchen, feeling terrible for the awkward way his tall frame was bent and crumpled in slumber.
“It’s been… what… almost five years?” you said quietly, staring into the flames of the hearth as it pushed away the nighttime chill, encompassing all of you in its warm glow.
“Who knows,” came the curt reply.
“I’m surprised you even remembered where I lived,” you pointed out, unable to decide if you were pleased or paranoid by that revelation.
“Hmm.”
Conversation stopped and started, and you found yourself noticing more about him that seemed different from before, although you weren’t sure your memory was accurate. You’d only seen each other a handful of times, when he was the signature snarky member of Clone Force 99 during the war. When the Republic became the Empire, everything seemed to hit the fan, and nothing had been quite the same since. Now, he was carefully guarded, seemingly unfazed by anything, but the occasional twitch of a muscle seemed to indicate pain or trauma of sorts. There was a tremor in his hand that was always quickly stifled by a clenched fist or grasp from the other, as well as a grimace of frustration. But most of all, the haunted look in his eyes chilled you to the core. You were known for your compassion, and the impact of the war on so many innocents across the galaxy rested heavily on your shoulders. It was easy to spiral if you dwelt on it too long, so you pushed it away and worked hard to fortify both your heart and home.
* * *
“Crosshair! It’s there!” Omega exclaimed, tapping rapidly on the control panel at the comm center. “Look!”
He sidled up beside her, leaning over her shoulder to squint at the screen. A transmission had indeed come through, although by the look on his face, you couldn’t tell if he was relieved or repulsed.
“Good news, I hope?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.
“They can meet us in a few days!” Omega read, tracing her finger across the lines of text. “They just have to… drop off a few… kids?” She glanced at Crosshair with questioning eyes, and his expression almost made you laugh aloud.
“Hunter is so kriffing soft,” he muttered, face sour with disgust.
“Well either way… We’re going home!” she insisted, eyes filling with tears. You felt a sense of awe at the girl’s ineffable hope in the face of so much pain, and you hoped her attitude would inspire Crosshair a bit too.
“There is no home ,” he spat, turning to exit the building, arms clasped around himself.
No such luck, it seemed.
* * *
Things felt somehow lighter that evening. You’d picked up a large pot of soup from a friend on the way, effusive with thanks and promises to make it up to him, and had enough supplies at home to make a large loaf of bread. It felt like a good night for a candle, creating a distinctly cozy atmosphere as the three of you crowded around your tiny table, bent over steaming bowls of fairly bland soup.
“So how did you and Crosshair meet?” Omega asked, realizing that part had somehow been left out so far.
“Who cares,” he grunted, casting a sideways glance at her.
“I do,” she said simply, and you found yourself smiling at the stark contrast between the two of them.
“His squad was here a few times during the war. The first time, they were held up for… what was it? Technical issues?” You glanced at him, hoping for a better memory than your own, but he barely made an effort to lift a single shoulder in a noncommittal shrug, so you continued. “Well, something like that. The other times, I’m not quite sure what happened.” A wry smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “He just happened to find himself here.”
“Hm. Well it’s nice to have old friends,” she nodded, missing the tiny look you flashed his way as she moved on to ask about your own life experiences.
* * *
Another day of work, another evening of sitting by the fire. The quiet felt soothing, somehow. Perhaps you were imagining it, but it seemed to be some sort of salve for whatever he’d endured, and the sight of him allowing himself to relax, just a little, warmed your heart. You felt a bit jittery too, however, having come up with a plan that you hoped he’d agree to, but you were fully expecting to get raked over the coals for it too. So when Omega was fast asleep, and he had slumped further and further in his chair with the passing minutes, you rose to your feet, stretching the stiffness away.
“Can you help me with something?” you ventured tentatively.
“No,” he said, not moving a muscle as he sat there with his eyes closed. You were equally miffed and amused, but the slight reminder of his old snark goaded you on.
“Then get out,” you quipped. He cracked an eye to assess you with a squint.
“No.”
“Okay,” you chuckled, “But please come here.” Your tone softened, an honest request, and he got up with an eyeroll. You led the way to your bedroom, which was really just a single bed stuffed against the wall with some space on the side and at the foot.
“No,” was all he could say when you set foot inside and turned to face him, earning a little eyeroll and chuckle from you this time.
“That’s not what I’m–”
“Just leave me be,” he snapped, with a slight sharpness that sobered you up very quickly.
“Alright, stop it.” You’d had enough, for now at least. “I get that you’ve been through it. And you can make yourself pay for all your terrible deeds for the rest of your life. But you’re not accomplishing anything by this… martyr stuff.”
“Say what you want,” he sniffed. “I’m not sleeping with you again.”
Now you did laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth at the flash of affront that quickly dissipated behind his sardonic expression. “Nope,” you shook your head, “Not where I was going. I want you to sleep here–”
“No.”
“--and I will sleep on an air pad in the living room,” you finished. “I borrowed one from my friend when we picked up the soup.”
“No.”
“ Maker above, Crosshair!! ” you breathed, thoroughly exasperated. “Just get one night of rest for your pathetic, sad body and stop insisting on being miserable!”
“How insensitive,” he hissed, lips pressed together as he scrutinized you with dark eyes.
“If you don’t, I’m waking up Omega and kicking you both out.”
“Going after the kid? That’s just cruel,” he taunted.
“Yeah, well, I mean it,” you said, and he could tell by your tone that you did. There was a frustration that had risen like a dragon out of deep slumber, and your eyes glittered with challenge. “Now stop arguing with me, take a hot shower, and allow yourself one kriffing night of comfortable sleep.” Without waiting for a response, because you were fairly certain you’d start yelling if he said “no” one more time, you turned on your heel and marched out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you.
You waited a moment in the hallway, half expecting him to come right back out, but it was quiet. A thought crossed your mind, based on what little you knew about what had happened to him, and you turned back, knocking once before opening the door.
“Changed your mind?” he drawled.
“No,” you said obstinately. “But… I mean… You’re not a prisoner in there… But just… Like… You can go wherever you want… except… I want you to sleep there… So… Stay there… But you’re free to go… Oh kriff.” You could swear you saw the ghost of a smirk on his sharp features as you waved him off and closed the door again, and the tiny snort of mirth that reached your ears definitely wasn’t a figment of your imagination. The memories that surfaced suddenly were surprising in their potency – his strong fingers entwined with yours, hands clenched together on your pillow, his heavy breath against your neck – and you fought them off as you made your bed in the living room, trying, and not always succeeding, to write them off as relics of a past life.
* * *
You knew one night of sleep wasn’t going to magically fix him, but there was a muted look on his face when he emerged the next morning, accepting your proffered cup of caf with a wordless tip of the chin. You left for work with the standard lecture of where everything was and how to avoid getting into trouble, which both he and Omega received with good-natured eyerolls and nods. They were scheduled to meet their friends the next morning, and you’d been shocked at the magnitude of care you felt toward both of them after just a few days. From what you’d gathered, they’d both been through suffering beyond belief, and you wished you could just snap your fingers and make it all go away.
You made some tea that evening, as you returned to your customary seats by the fire, and he took the mug from your hand without any protest. You noticed later that he never actually drank any but left it steaming on the table beside him. The conversation was sparse, and you couldn’t quite determine why it was that he seemed so dreary when he was about to be reunited with his family. But there was no need to press, and you were grateful that he tolerated your company at all, considering the shell of a person he seemed to be.
After a long silence, he got up, grimacing through some stiff stretches and turning to head toward the hallway.
“Ahem,” you said, arching an eyebrow as he looked back. “Where do you think you’re going?” You made no effort to hide the playful smirk on your face, thoroughly undeterred by his narrowed eyes in response.
“Bed.”
“I said ‘one night’ of comfortable sleep,” you jabbed, watching him press his lips into a thin line at the way you’d caught him in a tricky position. He turned without a word to head back to the chair, but you were on your feet quickly, waving both hands with a dumb grin on your face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Please. Go.”
He cast one last steely squint in your direction before disappearing, and you hoped that his old spark would continue to return, inch by inch, wherever he ended up.
* * *
The next morning, they were packed and ready at the door. Omega had given you a short, chaste hug and heartfelt thanks before heading outside, pausing to take a deep breath of the fresh air. Crosshair lingered for a moment, staring at the ground before muttering something under his breath.
“What’s that?” you poked, stepping closer and tilting your head to try to catch his gaze.
“Nothing,” he grumbled, lifting his chin to look at you evenly.
“I believe the words are ‘thank you’, but if you need to get a few ‘no’s in there first, I’ll allow it.”
He snorted.
“I hope it all works out for you two,” you said, moving on to some sincerity. “I… I’m sorry for all that’s happened.” His brow furrowed for a moment before relaxing back into an expressionless line, and he stood silently, leaving you room to shift awkwardly on your feet and flex your hands at your sides. Everything simmering under the surface was hard for you to ignore, and you lifted one shaky hand toward his face, pausing as he stiffened at the sight of it.
You lowered it slowly.
“Sorry,” you whispered, returning it to your side.
He reached forward suddenly, taking it and shaking it briefly, holding on for a split second, then letting go.
“Thanks for everything.”