Work Text:
A Story Retold
Christmas 2025
By Lady JaRuc
Cross didn’t like this holiday that Pabu celebrated…gift giving, socializing, and decorating. He didn’t understand it. Why celebrate the end of a year? He was older and not a credit richer. The gaiety and fun everyone enjoyed leading up to the last day seemed frivolous.
He walked around mumbling when he saw Echo helping Omega and Wrecker decorate their home with greenery and shiny objects. The shelves held scented branches tied with red ribbon while pretty shells nestled among the greenery. Shiny stones bounced light from the windows, sending shadows and starlight at night into every corner.
When Omega came to stand beside him, she bounced with excitement. “Isn’t that pretty? I like how the colors stand out. I think everyone will enjoy it.” Her eyes shone bright when she looked up at him. She vibrated with energy and happiness.
He shot her a glare and growled. Actually growled! He didn’t really mean to, but it came out sounding that way. His reaction hurt her feelings. Her eyes lost some of their sparkle, and her smile disappeared. He knew from past experiences that it took a lot to deflate his little sister’s spirit. Without meaning to, he’d just trampled all over her holiday spirit. She slowly left his side, shoulders slumped, her feet dragging.
“What’d you do now?” demanded Wrecker when he saw his sister leave. He posted himself right up in Crosshair’s face, the big man’s face drawn into an ugly frown of warning. This particular brother was sensitive to moods and didn’t put up with anyone taking the joy out of their sister’s life. Wrecker also knew that this particular brother had a way with words that wasn’t always nice.
“I don’t know,” the sniper whined back in the same tone Omega often used, giving his biggest brother a nasty scowl. He pushed past Wrecker, unintentionally brushing the big man’s arm harder than he realized. Wrecker growled just as he had earlier but didn’t reach out for the grouchy brother.
Crosshair left the room headed outside for fresh air and peace. Despite the cooler temperature and brilliant sunlight, outside wasn’t much better. Hunter was busy hanging greenery there as well. Large baskets of red flowers stood along the edge of the rock wall.
“What happened?” asked Hunter without even turning around. He heard the faster beat of his brother’s heart and his rapid breathing. With his enhanced hearing, Crosshair knew he also heard the shouting coming from the house.
When Crosshair remained silent, Hunter turned from his place on the ladder, resting his arm against the top rung. Rather than demand an answer from his cranky brother, he waited him out. Usually, Cross would snort at him and walk off, but this time the man stayed though he remained silent.
“Not a fan of parties, are you?” Hunter returned to decorating. “Never have been. But I can tell you one thing. There’s a kid in there along with an entire island that celebrates this day as a kind of renewal. You know, ending one year, getting ready for the next one. It’s a family thing, and I’m not going to disappoint her.” Hunter cast a glance down at his brother. “Whatever you decide to do, don’t hurt Omega.” As casual as his words came out, Crosshair knew that was a not-so-casual warning.
He remained leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. At the moment, he wished he had a toothpick. He’d given them up when Omega joined them. Didn’t seem like a habit the kid should pick up. Took a while because that toothpick was an addiction that kept him focused.
He heard what Hunter said but wasn’t convinced the celebration needed him. Everyone would be eating, drinking, laughing, and talking. No one needed him around. He certainly didn’t need all that! He wasn’t the social type, and everyone on the island knew it. Why doesn’t everyone just leave me alone, he thought, giving his oldest brother a side-eye glance.
Hunter finished securing the last piece of greenery and came off the ladder. Leaning against it again, he studied his brother. “One year for us might look like the last one, but just being alive beats the alternative, as Shep says. So, we’re going to celebrate for as long as we can, remembering our family, and those that we care for like Rex. He’ll be here for second meal and stay the night.”
Cross refused to say anything. He didn’t want to bother with all this fuss even though he could have added color and beautiful arrangements because he had an eye for that sort of thing. He vaguely remembered Omega asking him to help, but when he ignored her—or did he even hear her?—she went on her way.
Hunter folded the ladder ready to put it away, but he had one last thing to say. “Personally, I’m going to enjoy each day left to me. We’re not going to live forever…or even that long, you know.”
* * * *
The evening meal was quiet. No one had much to say though Hunter complimented the rest of the family on the way the house looked. Omega smiled and thanked him but did so quietly. Echo and Wrecker said little. Tech had no clue what was going on, but he’d been watching. Cross ate little then left the table. He went to his room and closed the door softly.
“Hunter, may I speak with you,” Tech asked when everyone had cleared the room. Omega sat outside with Echo. Wrecker had gone to the docks to gather more seashells to add to their decorations.
“What’s up, Tech?” Hunter asked as he sat on the sofa and lifted his feet to the small footstool that Omega had placed there, in lieu of her brothers putting their feet on the low table where they often placed food while watching holo movies. He’d helped several men put an addition to a small home on lower Pabu, the family getting ready for a new baby. Tired and ready for some quiet time, he wasn’t ready for a Tech problem. However, seeing as one brother had already dumped a bit of gloom on the day, he hoped Tech wasn’t about to add to the unhappiness.
“The family was unduly quiet tonight. I observed Omega and Crosshair at odds with each other. It seems Wrecker and Echo support her. But wisely, both said nothing. I think no one wanted to spoil her enthusiasm for the celebration tomorrow, and yet our rather dour brother seems to have done just that. What are your thoughts?” Tech stood beyond the small caf table, his data pad ready to research this unusual behavior if only Hunter would give him a direction to pursue.
“Cross has never been one for parties or celebrations. Omega almost never got him involved in celebrating Decanting Day. He finally gave in and seemed to enjoy himself, but it was just the family, and we didn’t give gifts or decorate or have others over.” Hunter was merely thinking aloud at this point. The family was well aware of those facts.
Tech gave a thoughtful nod. “Sometimes, I think Cross does not value himself nor does he see that others value and appreciate him for who he is. I feel certain no one wants to change the basic man though there are times when we can do with less of the doom and gloom that he is so fond of displaying.”
Hunter chuckled quietly but nodded. “I agree, but short of demanding he attend, much less participate, there’s not a lot we can do. I tried talking to him, but he’s like a wall at times, unmovable. When Omega wakes up tomorrow and sees the gifts we have for her, she may perk up,” he speculated.
“It won’t be the same though if one of her brothers is missing, and you know it. That child has a piece of each of us built into her. She wants peace but will fight for it if she has to. I suspect if Cross doesn’t change his ways, there will be no one to mourn him when the day of his passing comes.”
For Tech to say such a thing was highly out of character. In Hunter’s mind, that emphasized how worried his genius brother was about the sniper, both in relation to this celebration and going forward. Crosshair was part of their family and yet, at times, he seemed parted from them. An island alone.
“I once told Cross that I had regrets like he said he had. I also told him that all we could do is keep going, do better, and maybe there’d be hope for us after all.” Hunter got up and stretched, ready to join the others outside. “Let’s leave this up to Crosshair to solve. He either changes or life will change him.” Hunter went to the door and motioned to Tech. “Put the data pad away, little brother, and come with the rest of us as we walk around the island and look at the decorations.”
Though Hunter suggested Tech put away his beloved pad, never really expecting him to do so, the man actually did just that, tucking it into a pocket along the side of his belt. The men joined Echo and Omega and left the house, headed to the docks to find Wrecker.
* * * *
Lying fully clothed on his bed, his hands tucked under his head, his legs crossed at the ankles, Crosshair tried to figure out why anyone would want to celebrate…anything. He was a soldier. Well, he was a soldier, one now without a job. He’d not found anything on the island that piqued his curiosity. Not being a stupid man, he knew sooner or later he’d find something to interest him. In the meantime, he was restless, without a purpose. A man bugged by family that insisted on dragging him to all their events. Kriff it all, he mentally mumbled. He’d read a story once in which a disgruntled old man muttered “Bah Humbug!” Whatever a humbug was, Cross agreed with the sentiment.
He’d hurt Omega, which was the last thing he wanted to do. They’d both suffered enough on Tantiss. He shouldn’t add to her misery. But he had and did it quite deliberately. It’s in my DNA, he excused himself and his lack of manners or affability. The family knows me. They don’t expect anything different, he added to help ease his conscience, though he wasn’t sure if his conscience was paying attention.
His gaze focused on the ceiling of his room, he still heard the soft sounds of small footsteps in the mellow-colored hallway. Footsteps that ended at his door. A soft knock touched the wood. He wanted to ignored it but knew who stood outside the door.
“What?” he said gruffly.
“May I come in,” Omega asked timidly.
There were few timid bones in that girl’s body, he knew. She was brave, smart, and fearless as well as curious. But she also bore a tender heart.
“Come in if you have to,” he said though he wished he’d not said it so harshly. Hindsight, he also knew, was always a bitch.
The door swung open only enough for her to step inside, but she didn’t advance into the room nor sit on his bed as she usually did.
“Ni ceta. Ni guuror gar, vod’kar,” she said then stepped back outside and pulled the door closed so softly that even Hunter might have missed it. (I’m sorry. I love you, brother of my heart.)
“Why did she do that! None of this is her fault!” he growled, hugging the pillow he pulled over his head. No one but him or Hunter would have seen the tears that hung on her lashes, but with his enhanced eyesight, he saw. He understood. But he couldn’t let himself go. Couldn’t give himself permission to enjoy a slice of life one bite at a time. Control. His life had always been about control…the Kaminoans beat that into him. A sniper must control the environment so as to get the perfect shot. In this case, his control tormented his sister. In his secret heart, he hated that. But his pride accepted the situation as appropriate.
This time he growled louder as he tossed all his pillows across the room and yanked the bed covers askew. Growling like an injured wild animal, he yanked off his boots and sent them flying into the corner. He jerked off his blacks down to his unders, wadded the fabric, and sent the ball sailing hard enough to thump the wall.
“What a kriffin’ mess I’ve made of things,” he grumbled even as his heart hurt. He had no idea how to be a brother to his sister or brothers when they enjoyed life. He could be—and was—a comrade during the war. But in peace, he had no idea how to just be himself. A person that loathed attention, even if it came from a loving little sister.
Never would he admit to anyone that he eventually went to sleep with tears hanging on his lashes.
* * * *
Something in his room woke Cross. Being enhanced might have given him the edge if someone had entered his room. But he saw nothing. Still, that noise came from somewhere. Seeing no one in his room, he eased into the hallway. No one was moving around in the house. His family slept with their doors open, so others could come if nightmares bothered. Only his door had remained closed when the family bedded down that evening.
Hearing, seeing, and finding nothing, thinking his imagination might have awakened him, he returned to his room, running a hand through his silver hair that now curled slightly. He had no need to shave his hair close so his helmet fit better so Omega suggested letting it grow. He agreed simply to avoid getting a haircut. She often told him about his silver hair when he was a baby. She liked that it was different. That each of her brothers were different.
She remembered the brothers from Nala Se’s lab. That’s how she knew about their Decanting Day. She’d been there, not much older than the four at the time, but then accelerated growth quickly saw them as bigger and more mature than her. She’d said Wrecker had red hair, Hunter had lots of hair, Tech was born with his receding hairline, and Crosshair had beautiful silver curls.
Tempted to leave his door open but being the stubborn womp rat that he was, he closed the door and turned, ready to get in bed again.
“What the kriff!” He immediately looked for his Firepuncher rifle, but it lay behind the man sitting in the chair next to the window. His knife lay under his pillow. Nothing for it but to go hand-to-hand with this intruder.
When Cross tried to call for Hunter and the others in the squad, the man sitting there so calmly laughed.
“No one’s coming, soldier. It’s just you and me for a few minutes.” The man stood and put his hands behind his back as if he were inspecting Crosshair. “You’ve got a long three nights ahead of you, soldier. No doubt about it.”
Seeing that the old gizzer wasn’t there to fight him, Cross decided to open the door and call down the hall for Hunter. But the door stubbornly refused to open. Trapped in the room with an uninvited man, Crosshair assumed his usual position. Arms crossed, a deep frown pulling his brows down, and his back ramrod stiff.
“I bet you win lots of friends looking like that,” the old guy mused, never breaking his pose that reminded Cross of the many officers he’d seen during the war.
He reminded Cross of someone, but kriff if he could think who. The old man stood not quite as tall as Cross, but he was heavier. Heavy like an old man gets who doesn’t move around so much anymore. His heaviness, however, didn’t look like fat. He wore white breeches and carried twin blasters, one on each hip. His shirt was casual, a short-sleeved sort of affair. Whatever hair he once had had slipped down into a full white mustache, leaving his head bare. Piercing brown eyes watched Cross like a hawk. He bore that officer-style poise as if he owned it.
“You through giving me the once-over?” The man now crossed his arms like Cross. After a few hot seconds of a who-can-out-stare-who contest, Cross blinked.
“What do you want, and where the kriff did you come from?” Clearly, the sniper didn’t believe any of this was happening.
“About time you got to thinking instead of complaining about everything. You fought your war, son. Lost friends and killed enemies. Now you have a life that many wished they had. And you’re just pissing it away!” The man went from quiet-conversational to loud-angry in two seconds. “You’re a hard-headed, hard-hearted brainless womp rat. If not for those people down the hall that love you to death, I’d not be here. But there you go.” He threw up his hands as if whatever he was doing in Cross’s room wasn’t something he wanted to do.
“So why are you here then?” Cross snapped out the words. It spooked him just a little that once in a while as the man moved, he sort of went from solid like a human to transparent like some kind of spirit. If his eyesight wasn’t enhanced, he’d think he was losing his mind.
“No, dang it all, you’re not losing your mind, but I’ll tell you one thing, soldier,” the man stood straighter as he shot out a finger to Cross. “Change your ways or die without a soul to mourn you.”
“What’d you say?” Cross really thought he was having a nightmare now. “Is that a threat?”
“No threat, soldier. A promise. Push aside everyone who loves you and when you die, no one will give a shit.” Talk about blunt. The old guy just laid it out there.
Cross thought of his family. Omega. They knew how he could be. They accepted him like that. So what if he died? Everyone would someday. Dead and gone and who cared if anyone mourned. A tiny voice in his head reminded him that he cared. He ignored that voice.
“The gears are going around in that brain of yours. You’re no genius like that techy brother of yours, but you aren’t stupid either.” The man crossed his arms again and shut his mouth.
The man reminded Cross of someone so much that he was getting a headache just trying to figure it out. “I know you, don’t I?”
“I’ve been around,” the old guy confirmed with a one-shoulder shrug.
The blasters. Brown eyes. An air of command. That baritone voice rubbed against Cross’s memories. The harder he thought, the more he edged closer to who the man was. But reality teased him around the edges of his consciousness and gave him no answers.
“So, you’re here to make me do something?” Cross humphed at that. Like anyone could make him do something he didn’t want to do.
“Not me,” the old man said with a frown. “Expect three more visitors, one over the next three nights. They’re meant to do you good,” the man snorted but added, “Hear them out. Learn from them. Like I said, you’re not stupid, but you are blind.”
“Don’t think so,” Cross said in a pissy tone of voice, motioning to his eyes.
“Not that kind of blind, soldier.” The man once more clasped his hands behind his back and widened his stance ever so slightly. “Attention!” he suddenly said.
Old habits die hard. Too many years as a cadet then a soldier on missions took over, and Cross snapped to attention.
“I’m outta here, but don’t waste the opportunities coming your way.” His voice trailed off as his body began to fade. The last thing Cross heard as the man disappeared was, “At ease, soldier.”
* * * *
Thinking he’d finally gone nuts or suffered a bad dream, Cross fell back into bed. He slept hard for a change, not moving until something again stirred around him enough to wake him.
This time he listened to the house first. Nothing. But scanning his room he saw a shadow in the corner near the window. Thinking it was that old man again, Cross motioned for the figure to leave. “If you’re that old man or here ‘cause of what he said then you can leave now. Not interested.” He resolutely pulled a pillow over his head, cutting off his hearing and vision. Definitely something he’d never do outside of a dream.
“I am one of the spirits that will visit you. Rise, and walk with me,” came a commanding female voice through the silence of the pillow.
Cross shoved the pillow aside just enough to see the figure who now stood in the moonlight by the window. Even in bed, he managed to pull his head back in shock. “General Ti?” Jedi Master Shaak Ti had been in charge of training the cadets on Kamino. She was strict but fair with those in her care.
This wasn’t possible. Rex said the general died in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Or was it the halls of Kamino? Finally, he managed to whisper, “You’re dead.” When the figure smiled and held out a hand, he asked in a trembling voice, “Aren’t you?” His feelings of relief at seeing the woman versus the shock of her being dead warred in his heart. She was one of the few Jedi who ever treated the clones as human.
“I am the spirit of the past.”
“Long past?”
“No, cadet. Your past. Rise, Crosshair, and let me show you that past.”
“I know that past. Not going to see it all again,” he graveled out in a sour tone, pulling the pillow over his head again.
“Come with me, cadet,” the general commanded gently.
“You’re not leaving until I do, right?”
“Truth, cadet.”
“Stop calling me that,” he grumbled as he pushed his covers aside. “Can I at least get dressed?” he asked with a sneer though he would have never talked to a Jedi Master, let alone this particular general, in that tone of voice. He respected her too much for that.
“No need. No one but me will see you,” Shaak Ti said, holding her hand out again. “Take my hand, and be upheld.”
Cross had no idea what that meant, but her being a Jedi meant he was probably safe. He stayed cautious though since he knew the Empire actually managed to kill almost the entire Order. Standing, he walked to her, checking to see if she was like that old guy, sort of here one minute then ghostly-looking the next.
She laughed gently and took his hand…he certainly didn’t offer it to her. “Come, let us see what happened in your life.”
* * * *
They stood in a wide sterile white hallway. General Shaak Ti wore her traditional Jedi robes, her light saber visible at her belt as they walked. Technicians passed, studying data pads, paying no attention to the two. It took Cross a minute to realize no one saw them. He leaned close to the general. “No one sees us?” Even as he straightened, he felt awkward, standing as tall as Shaak Ti when he was much shorter as a cadet.
She nodded, but pointed to large windows overlooking a warehouse-sort of place. A huge room filled with tubes. Each tube held an infant. Technicians walked the room, checking buttons and dials. Nothing personal about the operation.
“You do not remember being here, but you and your batch mates came from these very tubes,” the general stated. “Let us see what happened to you four.”
Torn by curiosity and repelled by a past that wasn’t wonderful, Cross followed the woman through numerous halls, many unfamiliar. Finally, they walked through a wall…right through a wall! Though it didn’t faze the spirit general, Cross popped through in total shock, looking back over his shoulders to make sure he really did that before checking his body to make sure all of it came through.
“What do you see?” The general motioned her hand around the lab.
He studied the place, recognizing equipment, computers, and numerous pads. Sterile and cold—just as he remembered. Tucked into a far corner he saw four tiny cribs. Moving closer, he saw each one held a baby. “Just decanted?” he asked the general.
She nodded and gave him a side smile. “Look closer,” she suggested.
Cross bent over each crib and began to smile. Baby Hunter, Wrecker, Tech and…himself!
Before he could say anything, two people entered the lab. A long neck named Nala Se and…Omega? Such a little thing…maybe not more than three biological years old?
“May I take care of them, Nala Se? Please? They’re so little and cute,” Omega was begging even as she stood by the cribs, her hands touching first one baby then another.
“They will not stay like this long, Omega, before they will move to their own barracks,” the Kaminoan said in her whispery quiet voice.
“But they’re so little.” Omega’s eagerness turned to concern for the babies.
“You may take care of them until then,” the scientist granted, ignoring her medical assistant’s concern.
Cross saw the little girl lean over each crib and begin talking to them. A sigh escaped him.
A swirl of fog and he opened his eyes to see Omega sitting on the floor in a pile of blankets. Four little ones, barely one maybe, sat with her. Wrecker leaned on her shoulder. Hunter hugged her left arm while Cross sat in her lap, the end of his sleeve in his mouth. Tech sat on the other side of her lap, adjusting his goggles in order to see what she was reading to them. He heard Omega’s low sweet voice, and he saw how the four turned adoring glances her way now and then.
A smile creased Cross’s lip.
“You remember this moment?” the general asked quietly while she observed his behavior.
“Huh? Uh no, but I remember someone reading a story. I never realized it was Omega.” Cross looked uncomfortable with that admission.
“Do you remember more of the time in the lab?”
The grown man fidgeted.
“I believe you do,” the general urged.
“I remember being hugged,” he admitted. “I know it wasn’t Nala Se. That Kami had no warmth in her.”
“A pleasant experience, I think,” the general said in a thoughtful way without looking at him.
Cross shrugged, not willing to admit anything more.
“Come, let us see other times.”
General Shaak Ti led the sniper to other halls and times. Teaching lessons, meeting 99, the deformed clone who became a friend.
Tests that hurt. Cross soured his expressions when he saw himself and his brothers stretched out with electronic probes on various parts of their bodies.
He grinned when they came to the barracks, separated from other clones. All the little clones snuggled in one bed, a very full bed. “Staying nights,” he whispered.
“Times when you needed to be close. Times to let the memories and injuries of the day leave your mind.”
“Yeah, until the next day when it happened over again.”
“Another vision, cadet.” The general moved to the platform of the huge building, a place where the batch often went. Without permission, of course.
This time Crosshair saw two groups. He and Tech moved to one side of the large area, standing close to the edge, overlooking wild waters below. Wrecker and Hunter had moved to the other side of the platform.
“Why are we here,” he asked, backing away from the image of himself and Tech. He knew what was going to happen and had no desire to relive that event.
“Why did you do what you just did?”
“None of your business,” shot back the man, immediately sorry for his tone of voice with a Jedi that had only been kind to him and his brothers. However, he’d not apologize.
“Abuse. Separated from others. Ignored. Not valued. Only one person ever valued you and your brothers and you were taken away from her care. So, you thought to end it all.”
Cross remained quiet. She was correct, but he wasn’t going to validate her words.
“Walk with me, cadet.” General Ti moved away, and the man gladly followed. They disappeared into a fog that disoriented the sniper.
On she took him, showing him scenes from battles during the war where he made a difference and times when he treated his family and those who would befriend him less than kindly.
“They wished to share their happiness with you. Surviving battles. Eating simple meals. Resting safely. Silly people,” she mocked.
“Not…really,” Crosshair said, his eyes down, his head bowed. He valued those simple times because they each lived another day. His brothers survived.
Into the fog they walked again, Cross stunned by the quick change of scenery for they wound up back in his bedroom. He shook with reaction. “You didn’t have to do that,” he growled as he sank down on the side of his bed.
“These are shadows of your past and cannot be changed. If you do not like them,” the general said then shrugged, “that is on you.”
“Go on,” Cross buried his head in one hand and used the other to shoo her off. “Get out of here. You did no good coming here.”
Even as he sank back onto the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, he watched the image of Jedi General Shaak Ti fade.
* * * *
Turning over, Cross opened his eyes to yet more darkness. He frowned and wondered if this was the same night. Perhaps he’d slept through the entire day and into another night? No way! His family would never allow him to miss Celebration Day. Even if he wanted to miss the whole affair. Turning on to his back, he slipped one hand under his head as the other rested atop his blanket. As much as he hated revisiting the past, he could see where he could have made different—better—choices at times. Still, he reminded himself, that was the past as Shaak Ti said. Nothing he did now could change that.
A light began glowing at his chair across the room. Heaving a sigh, he pulled himself up and propped his back against the bed’s headboard. He couldn’t wait to see what or who showed up next. The old guy said three so this would be number two.
To his great and amazed surprise, Phee Genoa showed up. He hadn’t seen her in a long time. Phee was a pirate or as Omega was fond of saying, a liberator of ancient wonders. She came and went from the island on no particular schedule. But wait! Was she dead?
That prompted him to ask. “Phee, uh, are you dead?”
“Do I look dead to you, Legs?” she asked in her usual sassy manner.
“Uh, no but that old guy said three spirits. One already came, but I know she died at the end of the war. So how come you’re here but still alive?” He swung his feet out of the blankets and sat with both hands resting on the bed.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Grouchy.” She stood and brushed down her vest then checked that her blaster was still with her. “We gotta get a move on.”
He preferred to get dressed, but Phee read his mind.
“You look good enough. Not as good as Brown Eyes but you’ll do. You need more meat on your bones though,” she suggested as she held out a hand. When he hesitated, she goaded him.
“You scared of little ol’ me?”
“You? Hardly. But I don’t know what your plans are,” he qualified, his brows drawn down and his eyes squinted.
With her unconstrained manner and her usual joyful air, she propped both hands on her hips and shot him a wide grin. “I’m going to escort you around present times.”
“Whose present times?”
“Yours, of course, silly man,” Phee laughed as she grabbed his hand and guided him out the bedroom door. Down the hall they went, Phee pointing out the decorations and greenery. In the kitchen sat a pile of gifts on the table, each pile designated for a member of the family, as evidenced by their caf or tea cup sitting beside the gifts.
“Notice that pile?” Phee pointed to one.
Cross refused to say anything though it took no genius to know that was a pile of gifts for him.
“Grumpy old man. All those are for you!” Phee fussed as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Because they love you. Geez!” she added in disgust. She tossed her hands out in disgust. “Those other piles are for Rex, Shep, me, Lyana, and your family.”
Fog swirled and they once more stood in the kitchen where Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo cooked for two days. The two of them were invisible, she reminded him, as she showed him how the men juggled dishes and made jokes as they prepared the food for Celebration Day. She guided him outside where Tech and Omega arranged pots of red flowers. Batcher, the Lurca hound, tried to eat the pretties, but Omega made her realize they would make her sick. Omega made a special collar of flowers for the hound to wear.
“Smells pretty good around here. Lots of love in those food dishes, Legs. A shame you can’t enjoy them.”
“Why not?” he asked indignantly. “Am I going somewhere?”
“I suspect you’ll be sitting right there,” she said, pointing to his seat out on the patio. “Your body will anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barefooted, wearing only his unders, he stomped after her as she left the patio and swung down the wide street that led up to the plaza as well as down to lower Pabu.
“You tell me,” she said, but before he could answer, even if he was so inclined, she pointed to a house. “That’s Rom’t’s house. He’s been sick but is recovering. Almost died but his family stayed right at his side. They did a good job decorating with what they could find. I believe Brown Eyes arranged the greenery. They couldn’t afford anything else after Rom’t got sick. Omega and Echo have helped them too.” She strolled on, pointing out the homes of the Batch family friends. At each place, one of the brothers or little sister had helped. Once they reached the lowest street level, Phee took up his hand again.
Off into one of those disconcerting fogs they went. “The galaxy isn’t at peace as you well know. But folks are making the best of Celebration Day as they can. It’s a hard life. Too bad you’re set up on a peaceful island with those who love you.” She waved her hand at a small village. “They’ve lost loved ones. But they remember them every day. They speak their names so no one forgets them. When each lost someone they loved, their hearts shattered. The Maker granted those hearts time to scab over the wounds. No one forgets if they loved that person. Too bad you aren’t a friendly man,” she said in an aggravated voice.
Her words left Crosshair feeling odd. He wasn’t friendly, but kriff it all, he wasn’t a monster either. Or was that how others saw him? That thought took up residence in his mind and began irritating it like one of those sea creatures Tech told Omega about. Sand gets inside the creature and irritates it so it covers the sand with a resin that eventually turns into a round lustrous jewel. Was being anti-social the same as irritating those who knew him? He wasn’t going to turn into a jewel anytime soon, he scoffed.
Off to various planets and cities the Bad Batch had visited during war. During the Clone Wars and now under the control of the Empire, things weren’t better, but people seemed to want better so they brought in a few decorations. On the planet where the smuggler/pirate Hondo lived, life was a gay party. But then, these people made money off of other people. No wonder they were so jovial.
On and on Phee dragged him, at each place Cross growing less willing to go.
“Good and bad things, Legs. Just like always. The only difference is, these days people don’t wait to be nice or tell others that they are loved. Life can be cut off at any time. Those gone are mourned.” She turned to look at him, her hands once more propped on her hips. “You do what you think you should, but remember this,” she said emphatically as she waved toward a group of people sitting close, laughing, and enjoying a moment of peace. “There are those who love you. And you, you womp rat, don’t give a shit.”
With a gigantic puff of smoke that would have delighted Wrecker, Phee disappeared, and Cross stood in his bedroom in his unders facing a menacing figure shrouded in a long black robe, with a deep hood shadowing his face. A slick oily mist floated around the floor, sinister as a cut snake.
Crosshair swallowed hard. A cold shiver ran up his bare back. Of the spirits that had visited, he feared this one. First, he saw his grim past though dotted with warm moments. Next, he’d seen how people were surviving at this time. His family was making the most of the peace that they’d earned. But this last one…he could only show Crosshair what would come next in his future.
This spirit did not hold out a hand but rather a phantom breeze within the room pushed the black robe next to Cross’s hand. Immediately he and the black spirit stood on a jungle planet, humid, hot, and sticky. Unseen, they watched as Stormtroopers came down a path barely wide enough for one person to walk. A shot rang out, and a trooper fell, blocking the others’ path. However, another shot rang out. A sniper in black armor and helmet, wearing a camo poncho, moved from behind a tree trunk and pointed toward the other side of the path.
“He fell after I shot him,” the sniper said, his words firm with conviction.
“Should we go after him in case he’s still alive? The commander might want to interrogate him,” asked the lead trooper.
“No, he’s dead. No sense wasting time retrieving a body like that. No back up. No support. Poor bastard out here alone. Let him rot,” came the sniper’s words.
The lead Stormtrooper gave a hand signal, and the line moved forward. When the troopers passed, Cross looked at the black spirit in confusion. The spirit pointed to the far side of the forest.
He really didn’t want to see who lay in the jungle growth, hoping the sniper that took the last shot was himself. But he had to know. Pushing through the vegetation, he walked for nearly a half click before he found disturbed foliage. A Firepuncher rifle lay where it landed half-buried in the greenery. Not far away lay a body, limbs twisted into unnatural positions.
Tall. Slender. Grey and white armor with the red 99 symbol on it.
“Me?” he asked the spirit who’d followed. To be sure, he knelt down and gently removed the helmet. A gasp escaped him when he looked upon himself, blood trailing from the side of his mouth. His head bashed in from falling. Sprawled out in an ignominious position. Sick at the sight, Cross stood and began looking around, searching. He’d never go on a mission alone, with no backup. But no one came searching for him. Not the Empire. Not his brothers. Not his sister.
The spirit moved up to his side and waved a hand over the scene. In a fast-forward time frame, the fronds waved, and rain fell. The sun beat down, and leaves covered the body as it slowly disintegrated into the soil until nothing was left of the man but rusting weapons and armor. Eventually, even they disappeared.
“No one came,” Cross said quietly. “No one missed me.”
With a pop, the spirit disappeared, leaving Crosshair in his bedroom, in total darkness. Shaken. Scared. Alone. His mind raced. Despite his inability to express his emotions, he loved his family. They could be a pain in the sheb often, but they were his, and he didn’t want to hurt them like he’d been doing.
He was realistic enough to know he couldn’t become like Wrecker with his spontaneous hugs and laughter. Despite the control beaten into him as a cadet, perhaps he could let his family…even those he considered friends…know that he cared. He never wanted to be alone. Sure, each of them often spent time alone to think, to find peace, but none of them wanted to go away and never see each other again. That was a type of aloneness that Cross saw in his future.
On Kamino, he’d been made into be a sniper, needing no one, comfortable being alone, and merciless. True, he didn’t need a lot of company…other than his family. He did enjoy being alone…when he chose to be. But he wasn’t merciless. The Kaminoans failed to mix that aspect into his DNA.
He cut a glance at his chrono. A minute after midnight. He’d missed Celebration Day. But his brain kicked in, despite what his sharpened vision saw. He looked back at the chrono…to the date. It was one minute into Celebration Day! He’d not missed it after all! The old geezer and the three spirits did it all in one night!
Excited, knowing he could meet the gentle island dawn and his family in a better frame of mind, he sat on his bed, thinking hard. How to make amends and show them he loved them? Once more, his brain kicked in! He knew just what to do.
Grabbing his art pad and a handful of pencils, he set to work, drawing, knowing what each one of his family members would like.
Hours later, knowing he had a time limit before Hunter awoke, Crosshair tiptoed into the kitchen and placed a rolled-up piece of art paper bound by a ribbon at each of his siblings’ places. Worn out, he returned to his room and finished his copy like the ones he’d just delivered.
* * * *
No use anyone trying to sleep when Omega woke that morning. She bounded into the kitchen as if a sugar high rode her hard. “Happy Celebration Day,” she hollered as she bounced around the table, hugging Hunter and Echo. “Wake up!” she giggled as she ran down the hall, sticking her head into each brother’s doorway. She even called to Crosshair. “Hurry up, sleepy head.”
“Coming,” Tech yawned. He’d only slept four hours, his usual time, but he’d done so in the early morning hours.
“Yeah, yeah,” Wrecker said, stretching his huge frame as he ambled into the kitchen.
“Am I too late to join the family,” Crosshair asked quietly, standing in the doorway, uncertainty flowing through his veins.
Despite the surprised look on his brothers’ faces, his little sister jumped up and ran around the table to hug his waist. “Never too late, Cross,” she babbled in delight.
The tall man took his usual place at the table and accepted the cup of caf that Tech handed him. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, with Hunter, Cross slid his gaze to his oldest brother. If he wasn’t welcomed, he’d know it by Hunter’s expression.
To his heart’s satisfaction, Hunter gave him a warm smile, held up his tea cup, and saluted his brother. “Welcome back, Crosshair.”
Unable to speak around the lump in his throat, Cross nodded, his hands usually so cold, wrapped around his cup.
Seeing her family together, Omega yelled out, “Me first.”
“Of course,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. “I thought that was obvious.”
His family either rolled their eyes or grinned…or both.
Omega sat down and surveyed the small pile. “This is new,” she pointed out when she picked up the rolled paper. Having no idea who made this gift, she slipped off the ribbon and carefully unrolled the page. Her eyes grew wide then filled with tears that hung on her lashes like tiny diamonds.
Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Wrecker took up station beside and behind Omega. Their eyes grew just as wide as did their grins.
“Wow!” Wrecker said as he stretched out one finger to touch but refrained. “Did I get one too?” he asked. When he realized he too had a roll of paper at his place, he reached over, and opened it, holding it beside Omega’s page. In a rush, Echo, Tech, and Hunter reached for their gifts.
The whole family stood around Omega, admiring their gifts, comparing how the objects in the pictures were positioned. Only Cross sat in his chair, his eyes going from one person to the other, enjoying how much they liked their gifts…the drawings he’d spent hours creating.
“Cross,” Hunter began, but had no words. Omega needed no words. Her love was best expressed in one way, and she showed Crosshair that right then. Carefully holding her paper so it wouldn’t get crushed, she rounded the table and pulled her lanky brother sideways in his chair so he faced her. Stepping between his long legs, she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled in for a long hug.
No one was surprised when Cross bent his head over the smaller blonde one, wrapped his arms around her, and became part of the hug.
“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” she whispered softly. Her other brothers stood looking on, their heads bobbing up and down in agreement. She slipped onto his lap and held the page open, gently touching what Cross had drawn. In the center was Omega. Around her stood her brothers. Not full-bodied but chests up so Cross could get more detail into each face. No holopic could have shown each person better.
Each brother had one similar, with that person in the center and his brothers and little sister around him. Cross had his own copy with him in the middle and his family around him.
“These are excellent pieces of art,” Tech said in his usual higher-classed vocabulary, but his eyes shone when he removed his goggles to wipe them off, tears having fogged up the insides of each lens.
Poor Wrecker sat at the end of the table, holding the drawing of him and his family as tears streaked down his face. However, he was careful not to cry on his copy.
“Fine work, brother,” Hunter said as he squeezed Cross’s shoulder hard in his large warm worn hand. He too sat admiring the details.
Echo was in almost as bad a shape as Wrecker. “I’m part of the family?”
“Did you doubt it?” Cross said but not in his usual snarky tone of voice, using rather a neutral one.
“No, no, not really, but this…” Echo had a hard time saying what he felt…that the drawing made his inclusion into this group real despite the years they’d been together.
Omega slid off Cross’s lap after giving him a kiss on the cheek. She slid back into her chair and invited the family to open their gifts. Like children, the brothers opened the various packages meant just for them. To his delight, Cross had his own pile.
Gifts opened, wrapping paper and ribbon discarded, Echo laid out a light breakfast, except for Wrecker. Light for him usually included at least three rounds of food. “Big muscles, big appetite,” was the excuse the biggest brother offered.
Soon after the family cleaned the kitchen from one meal and started laying out food for the bigger second meal, Rex commed to say he was on approach. He landed in the caves beneath the island. Wrecker, Hunter, and Omega came to greet him, Omega hugging the blond clone as if he were another brother, which according to her line of reasoning he was.
She held Rex’s hand and babbled about her gifts all the way up the wide streets to the Batch’s home.
Along the way, they picked up Phee, Shep, and Lyana. Quite a group came through the patio gate sometime later. As each person greeted the others and wished all a Happy Celebration Day, Omega ran to get the drawing that Crosshair made for her.
“See what Cross did for me?” She bounced on her toes in her happiness as she showed the paper to Rex. “Each one of us got one. Isn’t it great!”
Rex held the drawing a long time, studying the faces. “Echo, did you get one too?”
“Yes, sir. Wanna see it?” The cyborg went to his room, retrieved his copy then brought it out to his former captain.
Rex admired that one as well. Once things settled down, while several brothers and the girls helped carry food out to the large patio table, Rex cornered Crosshair. “Uh, Crosshair, those drawings…they’re so lifelike.” He fidgeted a few seconds then asked, “Could you do one for me? Me, Echo, and…” Here he stopped, not sure if the tall man would think he was crazy.
“Spit it out, Rex,” Cross said without his usual malicious tone toward regs.
“Would you do one of me and Echo shoulder to shoulder and maybe...ghost in Fives behind us?” Once he said that, he pulled a Cross-style thing, he rubbed his hand over his head.
“Sure,” was all Cross said, but his heart grew a bit lighter still when the captain smiled.
“Thanks, brother,” was all Rex could get out.
Shep came to the sniper and asked if he’d do a drawing of him and Lyana to which Cross simply nodded, the older man leaving with a smile.
During the meal, Phee leaned over to Cross who sat on her left. “Say, Legs, would you draw one of those pictures of me and Brown Eyes?” This time she wasn’t being sassy. Her expression was serious.
“Sure, Phee,” Cross acknowledged.
Rex sat across from Crosshair and talked with those around him, up and down the table. The more Crosshair studied the one-time Republic captain the more something niggled at his brain. Something about Rex was familiar. Which sounded stupid since Cross had known the captain for a number of years now. Listening to the man’s conversation, he picked up several things Rex said as he told Lyana, Shep, and Omega a story about being around General Skywalker, Commander Tano, and the shinnies he often got into the 501st.
“I looked at those guys, fresh from Kamino, and yelled out ‘Attention!’ and they snapped to attention like a string had jerked up their spines.” The table laughed, especially Echo for he’d been a new trooper—a shinny meaning shinny new armor—when he met Rex.
Again, Cross’s brain kicked in. Rex? That old geezer in his dream? The more Cross looked at Rex, using the eyes of an artist, the more he realized that he’d seen Rex as an older man, bald, robust, wearing a mustache, with those piercing brown eyes, baritone voice. Still as full of command as he was now.
That set Cross to grinning though he tried to hide it. But Rex caught him. Though the captain said nothing, one brow rose in question.
“Just thinking what we’d all look like when we get old,” Cross said as an excuse for the smile.
“We should be so lucky to live that long.” Rex nodded and lifted a cup to salute the sentiment as Crosshair nodded in agreement.
Before the happy group broke away from the table, Omega stood from her place next to Hunter. She held up her glass and coughed several times, trying to get everyone’s attention. No one noticed her except Hunter and Wrecker. Before Hunter could step in, Wrecker stood up and yelled, “Hey! Omega wants to say something.”
The table quietened, and all turned to face Omega who blushed at her own boldness. With a nod of encouragement from big brother Hunter, the girl held up her glass. “We’ve made it through this year. We’ll work to make it through another. But we have each other, and that’s what counts. We love and support each other, through thick and thin. May the Maker bless this day.”
She waited as those around the table stood, and together they solemnly repeated her words. “May the Maker bless this day.”