#Omicron Class Attack Shuttle

[morphofan]

Found an old bit of wood while putting in a garden bed. Shape immediately looked familiar! 😂

It came out of the ground like this, all I did was clean it a little.

[feltpool]

Day 06

[average-transdalorian]

One of my favorite things about Star Wars is that the designers started by naming their ship models after letters of the alphabet. And then they created a different alphabet that’s the most common one in-universe. So to fill the “plot hole” they made, they decided that our alphabet would be known as High Galactic, and be a thing pretty much only rich people would use. And also they named so many things after the Greek alphabet and I’ve seen no indication of the Greek alphabet still existing lmaoooo

[stellarbit]

my friend and I have a drinking game and one of the things is anytime the frat batch pull a slut pose

drink up girlies

My bae gets his own cover and I think I'm hyperventilating.

[stellarbit]

Two Faces pt 2

Word Count: 12.5k Pairing: fem!reader x Bad Batch, light Tech and Crosshair nods Warnings: SFW, bitch of a mother, crosshairs mood swings, Summary: You arrive back home with Clone Force 99 to prepare to be your senator sister's stand in at an upcoming event. Letting the Batch learn more about who you actually are. Part 1 note: hope y'all like it, thank you all who sent in requests for it and suggestions. I live laugh love for this shit man.

“Ensure our guest arrives safely on her homeworld. Report back once the Gala is at an end.” Lama Su instructed Clone Force 99, his inky gaze shifting to where you stood in line with them at the steps to the Marauder. “You are most welcome here on Kamino. You have an open invitation should you find a need for it.”

Since your sister’s appearance, Lama Su’s demeanor shifted from gritted tolerance to that of a generous host. Time spent at your mother’s side taught you a politician’s patience was rarely forthcoming.

You attempted a practiced smile, the kind drilled into you from birth. “That’s something I will truly keep in mind.” Lama Su bowed his head slightly and dismissed himself, retreating back into the hangar doors.

Left alone, neither you or any of Clone Force 99 budged and a heavy silence settled over the group. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a few heads turn your way. Looking anywhere but directly at them, you piped up, “Ready whenever you are, Sergeant.” Despite Tech’s reassurances that everything had worked out 'better than predicted,' falling back into rhythm with Clone Force 99 was proving more difficult than you had hoped.

Hunter was the first to move. “Alright then, let’s move out.” He turned and you all followed, with you trailing after Crosshair as the last of the group.

Midway up the stairs Crosshair turned and extended a hand to you - an offer of assistance and perhaps a peace offering. A gesture you walked right by. Crosshair retracted his hand and, mostly, kept his frustration in his throat.

They’d told you about their ship, a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle, but being on it was certainly a different experience. The smell alone disenchanted your anticipation. Touches of the different men were strewn throughout. A knocked over stack of history magazines, food wrappers, half used tins of gun oil, and what looked to be sliced up target practice sheets. It was fairly easy to see who left what, but oddly enough there was hardly a trace of Echo.

Tech caught your hesitant inspection and directed you to the passenger seats. “Sit here during take-off.” Tech pointed to a seat equipped with restraints. “Once we make the jump into    hyperspace, it will be safe for you to navigate the ship.” You silently took a seat, pulling the over-the-shoulder restraints into place.

Tech left for the pilot’s seat, Echo already in position as the copilot. Hunter positioned himself in front of a navigational screen, between the cockpit and your seats, while Wrecker and Crosshair accompanied you in the restraint seats. The restraints barely accommodated Wrecker’s size, causing his arms to push into your space as he sat on your left. Across from you, Crosshair stared you down.

In the hours between the confrontation with your sister and packing onboard the Marauder you’d deliberately avoided Crosshair. He, on the other hand, tracked you with that hawkish watch of his and didn’t take his eyes off you.

His watching you, deciphering you, was a part of him processing the shifted dynamics. Much like you trying to piece together how Tech found out your identity, Crosshair ran through your weeks together, over and over, searching for all the clues he’d missed. He searched your face as if the specks on your face would tell him. 

Mostly, he kept counting the scars on your face. One nicked across your nose, likely from his elbow cracking you across the face. Another cut through your eyebrow with a matching one sat on top of your cheekbone. Admitting to himself, it was difficult to discern which of his many blows might have caused these specific marks.

A large part of him actively ignored the thought of what bruises may be hidden beneath your clothes..

He grit his teeth as he watched you continue to pointedly ignore him. He thought bitterly, If you’d just told us from the beginning I wouldn’t have been so severe. Your eyes cut to him with a look as sharp as his. Crosshair narrowed his eyes, a silent challenge between you. Your only response was a twist of your mouth, looking away in disinterest. 

“Care to share what’s on that pretty little mind of yours?” The sneer in Crosshair’s voice had you closing your eyes, summoning your remaining patience. “Or do you want to keep us all in the dark?”

You rolled out your jaw, nodding through a deep breath. Settling on the sorriest excuse for a smile, you responded, “It must be difficult to never know when to shove off.” Your words elicited a low growl from the sniper, adding genuine enjoyment to your expression. 

Wrecker sat still, gripping his ill fit restraints and keeping his good eye on you with a sideways look. Unlike his brother, Wrecker had made no attempts to push you up to that point. While roughing up a reg during training was standard for him, realizing it had been you all along left him uneasy. The memory of how you had fought against his grip when he had you by the throat now churned his stomach.

The entire vessel shifted and blue light cascaded through the ship. “We’ve made the jump into hyperspace.” Echo announced from the cockpit.

Crosshair shoved himself free of the restraints and stalked off for the front of the ship. You attempted to follow suit, but your restraints didn’t release as smoothly.

Frustration got the better of you and you rammed your hands twice into the bars before Wrecker gently released the safety device. He crouched down to your eye level, anxiety pulling at him. “Listen, I didn’t know it was you under that armor.” He shook his head lightly. “And I’d do it again with any reg… But I-I’m sorry it was you.” Wrecker’s eyes searched the floor for something else to say.

His expression tugged at your heart just enough for you to cave. “Wrecker,” you leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “I’m not mad with you, you couldn’t have known and, honestly, would be weirder if you had.” Wrecker kept his gaze averted, guilt still eating him.

“I take offense to that.” Tech chimed as he walked over.

Ignoring him, you gently turned Wrecker’s face to you. “The only reason I’m upset is that you would ever think this was a game to me.”

His eyes went wide and his head snapped back. “No, no! I never said that!”

“Then why lie and play soldier?” Crosshair said simultaneously from his seat next to Hunter. Crosshair placed a toothpick in his mouth and reclined.

“Crosshair, stow it!” Wrecker snapped, pivoting on the balls of his feet. “You’re just making it worse.”

 You truly believed that coming from anyone else, the question might not have stung so sharply. But coming from Crosshair, it made you want to scream.

“You know what?” You took a deep breath and stood, gently nudging Wrecker aside. As you exhaled, you clapped your hands together, your attempt to stay calm crumbling as your voice escalated to a yell. “I’m sorry. I am. I am sorry for going along with your mix-up!” 

Crosshair grit his teeth and tensed in his chair, a snake ready to strike.

Puffing your chest out, you thrust a finger at him, “I wasn’t playing soldier. I want to join my sister’s guard, so my mother sent me to train. If no one knew I was here and I got the training, I was going to do just that.” You groaned at the thought. The edge in your voice ebbed as you lamented, “Letting you think I was my sister seemed like an easy alibi. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I’d do it again if I had to.”

The topic begged the question, what will happen now that they know?

Tech, not fully grasping the situation, interjected, “Requiring you to mask your presence suggests this wasn’t a decision she was happy with.”

That was not a road you wanted to go down with them. Waving the comment aside with a flippant hand you replied. “She had a different plan for my life. This was just her making sure I knew what I was getting into.” You were surprised at how convincing your tone sounded.

Hunter turned away from the navigational screen, leaning back with a foot propped up on his knee, clearly skeptical. “She had to have known you’d get the kriff kicked out of you with us—or worse. Why not just send you to train with your sister’s guard?

Your chest tightened at the question. “Mother only wants what’s best,” you lied smoothly. Gesturing towards them all, you added in a lighter tone, “Besides, why train with guards when I can learn from the elite?”

Leaning against the back of Hunter’s chair, Echo looked incredulous. “Have you ever even stepped foot in a training facility before?”

You hummed an affirmative, holding your breath, but with the eyes of unconvinced soldiers on you, you quickly exhaled and admitted, “No.”

“In that case,” Tech said, pointing a finger at you. “I’m impressed you managed to only get your nose broken once.”

“We broke your nose?” Hunter sat upright suddenly, surprise in his voice. You resisted the urge to touch your nose or glance at Crosshair.

“I chose this,” you stated firmly, pressing a hand to your chest. “I had chances to back out, and I came anyway. I’d rather you treat me like the clone you thought I was than look at me with pity.” You gestured towards Hunter, whose face was an odd mix of pity and concern. “Honestly, I’d prefer that,” you added, nodding towards Crosshair.

You had hoped the small gesture would serve as your own olive branch, but a glance at Crosshair told you it hadn’t worked. He maintained a tight-lipped frown, his expression stubbornly aggravated. The standoff between you two lingered until you took a step towards him, and he rose from his chair, meeting you halfway with a defiant stance.

“What more could you possibly want from me?” you demanded, hands flaring palms up. There was a raw satisfaction in shedding the veil of polite politics and expressing your true feelings. Voicing your frustration felt liberating, like stretching long-dormant muscles.

Crosshair tilted his head down to meet your gaze, the toothpick rolling to one corner of his mouth. His voice was low and steady, “You attacked me.”

Fury surged through you as you snatched the toothpick from his lips. “Attacked you?” you nearly shouted, incredulous.

Leaning in, Crosshair scrutinized your seething expression, face flushed and fists clenched. Then, unexpectedly, a barely there smile cracked his scowl. Now he was just having fun.

“Crosshair.” Hunter warned as he slowly started to rise. 

“You heard me,” Crosshair retorted swiftly, emphasizing each word, “You. Attacked. Me.”

Echo was too slow to intervene as you grabbed the lip of Crosshair’s chestplate. He snorted dismissively, and you were consumed by a silent, burning rage. Something primal snapped within you, and without words, only a fierce growl escaped you as you lunged at Crosshair, hands driven by pent-up anger.

Crosshair began to laugh, a mocking, bitter sound that only fueled your rage as Hunter grabbed him and pulled him back. Echo swiftly moved between you two, his arms outstretched to create a barrier. Your fingers slipped from Crosshair’s armor as you reached desperately past Echo, trying to get at the sniper.

Hunter, his frustration evident, shoved Crosshair further away and then spun around, pointing a finger sharply at you He then turned to address both of you, his voice raised over the commotion. “How many times do we have to break you two up?” His tone was stern, a mix of reprimand and exasperation reflecting the strain of repeatedly managing your confrontations.

As Hunter pushed Crosshair further away, Crosshair shot back a snarky, taunting remark. "If she could keep her hands to herself, we wouldn't need breaking up."

With a low growl, you threw the toothpick still clutched in your hand, watching it strike Crosshair squarely in the face. It was a minor victory, but seeing his annoyance flare was satisfying. Stepping back slightly, no longer trying to shove past Echo, you fixed Crosshair with a taunting smirk. “Ah, so that’s what’s bothering you. This is the first time a woman’s touched you without a medkit.”

Hunter, witnessing the petty exchange, rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Enough!" he barked, hand chopping in front of him. "We’re on a mission, and I need you two to not kill each other. If I have to keep you separated until we reach our destination, I will."

Notching his hand at his hip, Hunter sighed. Looking at you he shook his head. “Well, you certainly don’t act like a Senator.” Amusement lifted the tattooed side of his mouth.

“Or a soldier,” Crosshair added sharply, slipping another toothpick into his mouth. He watched you a second longer before giving a light scoff, “But good to know our little kitten has grown claws.”

‘Little kitten’ heated your face but Echo guided you away before you could take the bait. “If you haven’t stepped foot in a training facility,” he said, ushering you towards the front of the ship. “What about the cockpit of an attack shuttle?”

And with that you were distracted, allowing for the rest of the journey to pass in relative peace. Aided largely by the fact that you and Crosshair now had a ship and four soldiers between you. 

As the ship began its descent, Tech started detailing the time differences and adjusting for the local standard. Wrecker, seated beside you, yelled, “Yeah, yeah, we can tell it’s late.”

“Or really early,” you quipped, nudging him playfully. Truly, you hadn’t kept track. It turned out to be late into the evening.

Echo and Crosshair had swapped seats, positioning Crosshair in the copilot's seat and further from you. Sitting across from you, Echo leaned forward slightly, curiously asking, “Who do you think is receiving you?”

“Receiving me?” You parroted in confusion.

Wrecker nudged you playfully, flashing a grin. “Yeah! Who’s waiting for ya at the platform?”

Your eyebrows shot up as you glanced down, realizing you hadn't considered this. Normally, no one 'received' you unless your sister was visiting home. You managed a smile, easing into the conversation. “That’s not really a tradition of ours.”

“That’s odd,” Tech said, extending his neck out and raising his voice to ensure you heard him. “I read that the planet’s governor, that is your mother, is well known for her welcoming of distinguished guests.”

“Well, I’m not a guest,” you responded sharply, a hint of bitterness in your voice. With a forced laugh and a casual flip of your hand, you added to cover your misstep, “That is, I’m not just a guest, I’m family.”

As the ship landed and the restraints remained locked in place, Crosshair spoke for the first time in hours. “Looks like you’re wrong about that.” His tone made you strain against your restraining bars in attempts to see outside.

You were unable to see anything but the sky view of the hangar. But you were sure of it, if anyone was there it was your sister. The thought flipped your stomach.

As soon as the restraints unlocked—and Wrecker helped free you—you dashed for the exit. Crosshair was at the mouth of the exit when you pushed past him, hurrying down the stairs. Your chest heaved with anticipation as you spun around, searching for a familiar face, but your sister was nowhere to be seen.

As you were about to have words with Crosshair, your attention snagged on the sight of three clone troopers walking around the ship. Approaching you were two unmarked clones flanking a Clone Captain distinguished by teal blue markings.

CT-7569, the Captain assigned to your planet. The clone presence was meant to be a show of good faith by the Republic, but your mother treated them as ornamental. They ‘maintained peace’ by bolstering your mother’s security and accompanying important trade vessels. CT-7569 usually escorted your mother - you found it made her presence more tolerable. In the end, you and the Captain spent many mindless political gatherings in each other’s company.

As the Captain approached, you wracked your brain trying to recall the name he went by. Embarrassment set in as you realized you might never have known his name, despite having memorized his designation number long ago.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you stepped forward with a genuine smile. “Captain,” you greeted warmly.

“Good to see you back, Miss,” the Captain replied as he halted a few feet away, his men positioning themselves to his sides. His helmet shifted slightly, his gaze drifting past you. “I was wondering if you’d return. I hardly believed it when they said you went to Kamino.”

You edged closer, lowering your voice to a hiss. “How do you know about that?”

“You left with the Governor and Senator, but only they returned. Seeing as how that flight log only showed a trip to Kamino… well it wasn’t hard to figure out.” He chuckled, the sound echoing slightly inside his helmet as he reached up to remove it. The familiar features of the Captain started showing, all wrinkled by an amused smile. “So, how’d that conversation go?” he asked, referring to your discussion with your mother about your plans. His gaze then darted past you, doing a double-take. “Wait—is that the Bad Batch?”

You gave an empty blink. “The what now?” A smile wobbled your lips. They certainly never mentioned that.

CT-7569 nodded, letting out an impressed laugh. “Experimental Unit 99. They call themselves the Bad Batch.” His eyes held a touch of shock before he shifted to a questioning look at you. “This is definitely a story I want to hear.”

“Captain,” Hunter greeted, stepping up beside you with Echo on his other side, while Tech positioned himself next to you. Wrecker and Crosshair presumably took places behind you, maintaining their distance. They all kept their helmets on, reminding you of the edge ‘regs’ put them on.

CT-7569 straightened up, his accompanying clones mimicking his posture, and he replaced his helmet. “I’ve heard good things about your squad, Sergeant. Good to meet you, men.” He extended a hand to Hunter, and they clasped each other’s forearms in a soldierly greeting.

“Thank you, sir.” Hunter nodded

As the Captain and Hunter exchanged pleasantries, you desperately thought back for the Captain’s name. You had faint recollections of hearing it in passing or his men occasionally dropping formalities. Those snippets were vague but persistent, hinting you were just a syllable away from full recognition.

The Captain looked back to you and the name clicked in place. He began telling you something, but your thoughts were far from his voice. Instead you were lost in the thought of having treated the clone before you, a soldier who offered you kindness when that was beyond the scope of his mission, as just a nameless soldier. You were always polite and grateful for their support and the respect you had for clones inspired you to protect your sister, but you’d rarely thought of who they were beyond soldiers.

And with him, you were practically friends.

“Miss?” The Captain’s voice finally reeled you back in. When he saw your focus return he said, “The Governor gave no orders for your arrival, but we can take the men to our barracks wing to settle in.” Pivoting to his men, he began giving orders to escort Clone Force 99. 

You quickly cut in.

“Howzer,” The name immediately silenced him. He seemed caught off by the sound of his name on your tongue.  “There is plenty of room in my wing. I’ll show them up.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but you pressed on, “The Governor didn’t issue orders because their mission requires discretion. An empty wing is more suitable than a barrack on full display.” You’d taken some liberties speaking for your mother, but he didn’t need to know that. Instead you added, “Which reminds me, why are you here if she gave no orders.”

Howzer chuckled warmly. "I spotted an inbound ship from Kamino on the flight manifest this afternoon. I figured it was you and couldn’t resist the chance to see you limping off of a ship.” The sentiment made you laugh. He added, nodding his head, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“She held her own,” Hunter came up beside you with a hand on your shoulder. “Even got the better of one of us once.”

“Twice.” You quickly corrected, earning a disgruntled noise from the sniper behind you. The curious tilt in Howzer’s helmet, from behind you and back, made you smile.

“Well then,” Howzer relaxed, a smile in his voice. “We’ll leave you to it. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned to depart, but you reached out and grasped his arm to stop him. He looked from your hand to your face.

“Thank you, Howzer,” you said earnestly, sliding your hand down to his and giving it a warm squeeze. “For being my friend.”

His helmet shifted back slightly, caught off guard once more. After a brief pause, he nodded and returned the squeeze gently. “No need to thank me,” he responded lightly.  “Just a perk of the job,” he addressed you by name and you could have heard the wink in his voice. You realize he might have never said it before. Howzer turned away with his squad following. As they walked off, one of the troopers elbowed him lightly, only to receive an aggressive shove in return. 

“I think I might be sick.” Crosshair murmured from behind you.

You snorted, looking over your shoulder at him. “Feeling queasy, huh? Maybe it’s just your batch going bad,” you teased, giving a playful nod to the nickname you had just learned. Crosshair groaned and Echo coughed to hide a laugh. Bad joke.

“Oh, c’mon.” You gestured for them to follow. “Let’s get to bed.”

Your family home was an architectural marvel built into the side of a mountain, its expansive windows offering a panoramic view of your planet’s capital city below. The residence had been in your family for generations, serving not just as a home but as a political hub, given your family's long history of public service. Though not every generation produced a Governor, there always seemed to be someone who utilized the sprawling estate as a political stage. Under your mother and sister’s tenure, it had practically transformed into an embassy.

Nestled on the quieter, mountain-facing side of the house were your private quarters. Your room, located at the end of a secluded corridor, offered a reprieve from the politics of the main halls. The other two rooms along your corridor remained mostly unoccupied, reserved for the occasional guest, a benefit of your mother's preference to keep you out of the public eye.

You paused at the door next to yours, explaining the solitude of your hall. Extending a hand towards the spare room, you said, “Either room can accommodate your squad, but feel free to use one or both.”

The group exchanged looks, weighing their options. Echo mumbled something about needing a break from the usual barracks scent, but ultimately, they decided to stick together. Their loyalty to one another reminded you of the times your sister would stealthily retreat to your room during her political campaigns. On especially tough days, she would stay the night, and in the early, dark hours of the morning, you would both slip away to the nearby hot springs.

The memory used to be a safe haven for you. Now it left you feeling oddly cold.

After bidding the boys goodnight, you retreated to your room. Setting aside a bag for the morning, you prepared for a much-needed early soak in the warm springs.

Waking well before dawn, you were eager for the comforting waters. From the back of your closet, you retrieved an old rope ladder with patches of fabric woven into it—evidence of years of repairs. Hardly necessary now, the ladder had been a crucial part of your escapades during your younger years, when you were more tightly bound by your mother’s expectations.

Your room opened onto a quaint veranda, bordered by sturdy stone balusters. This railing, carved from the mountain itself, served as your usual escape route.

As you’d done numerous times, you tied the rope off and unfurled it over the ledge of the terrace. Peering down, you were reassured to see the ladder hanging just a few feet above the   ground. Despite the 100-foot drop, a few firm tugs on the knots confirmed it was secure. Bag slung over your shoulder, you straddled the railing, preparing to make your descent.

“That would not be advisable.”

The unexpected voice sent a jolt through you, your arms instinctively gripping the railing to prevent a startled fall. Pressing your face against the cold stone, you scanned for the source of the interruption.

The veranda wrapped around the building, with each room opening onto its own curved section. There, leaning casually against the railing of the adjacent balcony, were Tech and Hunter. Hunter rested his elbows on the railing, a cup of caf hanging between his hands, while Tech leaned his hip against the railing, also sipping his drink. Both were wearing a set of black casual clothes, a long sleeve shirt and pants. It was Tech who had called out to you.

Tech adjusted his goggles, scrutinizing the rope ladder with a critical eye. After a moment, he relaxed slightly and nodded to himself. “The multiple repairs, along with the current condition of the rope, significantly compromise its integrity. If you attempt to climb down, the likelihood of the rope failing is high. You would fall from approximately,” he paused, his gaze measuring the drop, “68 feet.”

“You don’t know that,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you climbed back onto the safety of the veranda.

“Care to test that theory?” Tech retorted, an amused challenge in his tone, though he already knew your answer.

Instead of responding, you walked over to the stone wall divider, where vines clung and crawled up its surface. Grabbing one, you used it for leverage to hoist yourself onto the railing and then climbed along the railing to their side of the veranda.

Hunter, witnessing the muscle memory in your movements, took a leisurely sip of his caf. "Does that come from having a sister too?" he commented dryly, watching as you landed beside them.

You snorted, “More from young rebellious years.” Glancing around, you noticed the absence of the other men

“Still asleep.” Hunter answered your search, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. Hunter stood to face you, half sitting on the railing and looking you over with a raised brow. “What exactly were you doing?”

You nodded towards the treeline and the forest beyond. “There’s a hot spring not too far up the mountain.” Tech set his cup on the stone handrail and pulled out his datapad, tapping a few buttons as you continued, “My sister and I used to sneak out from time to time for a dip.”

Tech, always the analyst, chimed in, “I am picking up a heat signature a kilometer out.” He pivoted, scanning in other directions. “This mountain must have volcanic properties to create such a natural phenomenon.”

Impressed, you hummed in agreement. “You’re not wrong—”

“I seldom am,” Tech interjected, still focused on his device.

“—the mountain was once a volcano,” you finished, matching his flat tone.

Tech, now fully absorbed in geological data, murmured, “Fascinating how such places become sanctuaries over time.”

Hunter half-sat on the railing as he watched the sky beginning to lighten. Following his line of sight, you asked, “Are you two always the first ones up?”

“We’re terrible sleepers,” Hunter replied, throwing a knowing glance at Tech. “Tech’s brain doesn’t have an off switch.”

Tech rolled his eyes as he switched from his datapad to the device on his forearm. "And his heightened senses make him easy to disturb," he explained, tapping a few buttons before squinting at the screen. "So, yes, to answer your question—Hunter and I are usually awake before the others."

You heard Crosshair before you saw him. “Not for long with your prattling.” Crosshair appeared, pushing through a fabric curtain. Despite the dim morning light, he squinted as he joined you outside, his gaze shifting between you as if searching for an unsaid clue. Finally his eyes looked you over and he sucked on a tooth, asking, “Here with our orders so soon?” You didn’t miss the lighter tone in his voice. He was joking with you.

Well that’s a good step.

The early hour dampened your mood for bickering, so you forced a smile instead of biting back. “You are as lovely in the mornings as I’ve dreamt.” you quipped, immediately regretting your choice of words by the look he shot you, avoiding his smirk by pretending to brush dirt off of your sleeve. “On the note though, we can expect a droid with our instructions sometime-”

“Mistress?!” A panicked,metallic female voice echoed from your quarters. 

“Now, apparently,” you huffed, impressed yet annoyed by the droid’s timing. “Just a second, 9-E!” you called back to the protocol droid now audibly clattering through your rooms. The three men barely had a moment to react before you turned back to the ivy-covered wall. “Another reason to be glad you stopped me,” you tossed over your shoulder as you climbed.

By the end of the next hour, your family’s silver protocol droid was leading you and the Batch to your mother’s salon. It was the room she formally received visitors in and her typical venue for confrontation. You were particularly worried about the latter category.

“9-E,” you said, holding the droid back by the shoulder just before reaching the salon's doors. The droid swiveled its head to face you, and you gave its shoulder a reassuring pat. “I need to speak with my mother alone. You can come by afterwards, okay?”

The droid seemed to fuss for a moment but ultimately nodded, its voice a mix of concern and programmed calm. “Try not to provoke her this time, Young Mistress. She is in good spirits this morning,” it advised before waddling away. 9-E had been a loyal fixture in your life, often acting as a stand-in nanny. You respected its reverence for your mother, which is why you spared it from witnessing the more challenging family moments.

“What exactly are we walking into?” Hunter mumbled to you.

“Nothing to worry about.” You reassured, but you had a feeling your face didn’t match your tone.

Pushing open the heavy salon doors, you stepped into a room bathed in morning light, offering a panoramic view of the capital. The salon was meticulously arranged with luxurious decor that spoke of your family’s political heritage. At the far end, your mother, the Governor, stood two steps up by a large window, her silhouette framed against the cityscape.

The tall woman stood in a deep purple dress with an overcoat of similar color, all with golden embroidery. Her eyes combed the lot of you as you approached, her expression undeniably cold. There were no witnesses present so there was no show to put on.

In fact, the lack of guards or attendants did not bode well for the conversation.

You paused at the base of the steps leading up to where she stood, the rest of Clone Force 99 arrayed slightly behind. They all stood firm with their helmets tucked under their arms.

“Good job on the prompt return,” she said, cold yet perfectly polite, as if she were addressing a droid rather than her daughter.

“I would never keep you waiting,” you responded, maintaining the formal veneer.

Her lips twitched in what might have been a smile on a more congenial face but came off as a grimace. “You’ve already done so,” she said crisply. “Come here.”

Not wanting to further prove her point, you immediately ascended the steps. She reached out abruptly, her fingers clamping around your chin with a firmness that bordered on painful. Slowly, she moved your face side to side examining the marks, some still pink, on your face. Her lip curled. “The only thing you had going for you,” she murmured disdainfully, releasing your face with a sharp flick of her wrist.

Turning her gaze on the men assembled a step below, she gestured towards you without looking back. “Surely, the Prime Minister instructed you not to coddle her.”

Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech exchanged uncertain glances. From where they stood, it did not look like they coddled you. Crosshair and Echo kept their eyes on your mother. One was coiled for her next move while the other knew better than to take his eyes off an unpredictable politician.

Hunter didn’t recall Lama Su giving that directive and he didn’t have the political finesse to know what answer your mother wanted to hear. His eyes slid to you once more, before answering with cautious formality. “We trained her as rigorously as any member of the Republic's forces, Governor.”

Your mother's attention drifted downward contemplatively before returning to you with a subtle nod. Waving a hand at you, she managed a disappointed smile as she addressed Clone Force 99. “And that is all an elite clone force is capable of?” She held up a finger, considering something for a moment. Without further comment, she moved gracefully around to your back.

Her hands felt cold and foreign, you barely resisted the urge to lean out of her probing touch. With pressure she slid her hands over your shoulders and down your back, probing for vulnerabilities. Occasionally her hand grazed a bruise, at which you tensed but didn’t react further. Then, her fingers found their mark—just behind your shoulder, a spot still tender from Crosshair drilling into you.

As the pain sharply cut through your muscle, you instinctively jerked forward. Your mother's firm grip on your shoulder kept you in place as she pressed harder into the tender spot. The discomfort escalated until a grunt of pain escaped you, at which point she finally eased up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement among the clones.

"There we are," she crooned, her voice chillingly soft as she pushed you toward the troopers. "My apologies for questioning your efficacy."

You hardly stumbled, but cleared your throat against the still present ache in your shoulder. Straightening out, you kept your eyes averted. You’d withstood your mother’s treatment your entire life. You let yourself believe it served a purpose. Whether it was to raise you to her standards or simply to prove her point. This felt different. Humiliating you served no purpose at this moment. After a lifetime of this, you thought, perhaps it’s just what you deserved. 

Finally, you looked at Clone Force 99 thinking you’d find them at attention, trained into stoicism. Instead, they no longer stood in line. 

Crosshair was further out than the others, mid-step, nearly mid-bite and restrained only by Wrecker's firm grip on his shoulder. Wrecker himself stood uncharacteristically still, his usual demeanor replaced by seriousness. Wrecker was holding Crosshair back, but you’d be forgiven to think he was urging his brother on. Beside him, Hunter and Echo mirrored each other’s posture, frowning with fists clenched at their sides, looking like they were about to snap. At the end of the line, Tech maintained the most composed state, though a slight frown tugged at his features as he held a finger to the light on his goggles.

Theirs was more of a reaction than most who had witnessed a glimpse of your mother. These men barely knew you and they didn’t think you deserved this.

They didn’t deserve to see this.

You offered a smile to the men who barely knew you. None of them moved as you tucked your hands behind your back and faced your mother. 

She didn’t bother meeting your gaze, rolling her eyes away as to not entertain whatever confidence struck you. “The Gala is tomorrow evening, you will be briefed later.” Later, her always had a vague way of leaving you waiting. “Make yourselves scarce until then.” She waved you off, turning to face the cityscape again as if you and the situation at hand were little more than a minor inconvenience in her day. 

You gave a respectful bow and swiftly made for the door. Without hesitating, you passed directly between the members of Clone Force 99, not waiting to see if they offered any form of courtesy to your mother before following you.

You all stayed silent until you made it back into the corridor.

“Now you see the reason for the rope ladder.” You said lightly as you led them away.

Echo quickened his step to match yours, a look of concern - if not anger - on his face. “What happened there? That woman is your mother?” He gestured incredulously back towards the salon, shaking his head “She’s... she’s cruel.”

“Always has been.” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to hide your truth anymore. “I’m just sorry you saw it.”

“Someone like that shouldn’t be leading people.” Echo asserted.

You didn’t stop walking, but managed to side eye Echo. “She’s not like that with others.” That answer didn’t calm the cyborg.

Tech chimed in from behind, his datapad beeping softly. “It’s surprising she hasn’t been exposed on the Holonet with that kind of behavior.”

“You’ll understand once you see her tomorrow. There’s no surprise in it.” you scoffed, leading them further away from the scene.

The group murmured amongst themselves, clearly troubled by the encounter. Wanting to shift their focus from your mother, you planned to seize the opportunity presented by the early morning chill in the air.

As you approached your rooms, you spun around, effectively blocking their access to their quarters with a playful stance. They all looked so somber.

“Enough of that.” You said sternly, but there was a lightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in ages. They remained in similar shades of uncertainty. 

The absurdity of it all hit you —the idea that your mother, with just a small show of herself, could unsettle a group of battle-hardened soldiers. These men faced deadly threats without flinching, yet here they were, shaken by the woman who raised you. The stark contrast between their usual bravado and their current discomfort was ridiculous, really.

Laughter burst from you, resonant and unrestrained, filling the stone corridor. Echo muttered something to Hunter that you didn’t catch, but it only fueled your amusement further. Your sides began to ache, pulling at a tender bruise, yet you continued to chuckle through the discomfort. For a moment, you thought you’d never be able to stop.

Wrecker’s brows were the first to lift as he surveyed his brothers’ reactions. You covered your mouth with your hand, another laugh threatening to bubble out. Crosshair and Tech shared a look of confusion and evident disturbance. The sight of Tech’s furrowed brow and slightly open mouth pushed you over the edge again.

As the last waves of humor receded, you clutched your sides, threw your head back, and expelled one final, drawn-out sigh. A lazy smile spread across your face as you met their gazes once more. Shaking your head, you teased, “You face droid armies and risk your lives every day.” You gestured dismissively towards the direction of your mother’s salon. “And one measly Governor ruffles your feathers?”

A short pause passed and Tech said in a flat tone, “I think I am glad to not have had a mother.” Echo groaned, covering his eyes with his hand, but you found the sentiment funny.

To shake the residual tension, you sighed, “Listen, I really don’t want to dwell on her right now. Instead…” You slid back a few steps, nodding over your shoulder with an adventurous glint. “Come with me to the hot springs?”

Wrecker perked up first. "The hot springs?" His interest was evident as he shared a smile with his brothers, but Hunter remained reserved, arms crossed, his expression tight.

"They're worth the hike," you coaxed, waving them to follow. "It's not far, and it's the perfect way to unwind."

Hunter's brow furrowed as he considered the risks. "We don’t know when the Governor might call us back. It's best not to stray too far," he advised pragmatically. With a heavy sigh, he added, "I'll stay back, keep watch for any messages."

"Same here," Echo interjected, raising his scomp-link arm slightly. "Besides, long soaks really aren't my thing anymore."

You looked hopefully at the remaining three. Wrecker pumped his fist in the air, clearly eager. Surprisingly, Crosshair, despite his sour look, gave a shrug. "I’m in," he said, placing a toothpick bobbing between his lips.

Tech pulled his datapad out, but gave a quick wave. “I will join as well. I'm curious about the natural phenomenon." He paused, pointing a finger at you. "However, we're definitely not using your ladder."

That comment drew a wary look from Wrecker. "Ladder?" he asked.

Which made sense once the lot of you stood at your veranda’s railing. Tech and Crosshair were down to their blacks, the closest You’d just finished pulling up your ladder when Wrecker stepped back. “On second thought, you guys go ahead. I’ll stay here.” He said uneasily.

You spun on him. “What?!” 

Hunter clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. "Come on, Wrecker, it's not that high."

Tech stepped up beside you to peek over the railing. “That’s about 20 feet too high for his comfort,” he clarified, diagnosing Wrecker’s hesitation. “He's not great with heights.

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck, his discomfort apparent. “Yeah, I’ll pass this time,” he admitted, resigning himself.

“Alright,” Echo interjected, heading back inside. "Let’s go find some food then," he suggested, inviting Wrecker to join him in a more comfortable pursuit.

Hunter pushed off from his spot leaning against the railing. “You three have fun, but don’t be too long.” He followed after Echo and Wrecker, pausing at the doorway to your quarters to sigh, “Just don’t kill each other.”

The annoyed sound Crosshair usually made at such comments didn’t come. Looking as bored as ever, Crosshair was busy scoping out the ground below. His lack of response felt underwhelming. He passed a cool look at you before silently grabbing for the bag he and Tech brought. From it he pulled a grappling hook and a descent device.

Tossing the device at Tech, Crosshair tossed the bag over his shoulder. “I’m going down first.” He pointed a finger at Tech. “You get to carry her down.”

The three of you ventured to the hot springs, Crosshair notably silent for the duration of the journey. Once there, Tech immediately scoped the surrounding area. The hot springs were a true miracle of the mountain. Nestled at the bottom of a hollow, a handful of pools steamed off into the branching hanging above. The pools were all interconnected, hot water bubbling between them and lapping against the smooth stones lining their boundaries.

This quiet nook, forgotten by all but you, was your sanctuary. The cloud forest and warm waters felt like a personal sacrament, and sharing them with someone, especially Tech with his eager fascination, filled you with a sense of happiness. A feeling that quickly vanished upon looking at Crosshair. The residual smile fell from your face. He wasn’t looking at you but his face was one of disinterest.

The spectrum of Crosshair you’d witnessed over the course of a few days made you realize how little you truly knew the men of Clone Force 99. You’d expected their reaction in various shades of Tech’s reaction. Annoyance and skepticism you’d prepared for, not this sudden coldness.

Only a few hours prior he’d seemed at least cordial for the first time since learning the truth. Now, he seemed unable to even look at you.

 When it came time to shed your outerwear, Crosshair’s reaction was sharp. A sweeping look of you sent distaste across his features, and he turned away, leaving abruptly. Tech dismissed it as just another example of Crosshair’s stubborn nature, but to you, it felt deeply personal.

You checked yourself before entering the waters. Outside of a few bruises he would’ve known about, there was nothing scandalous about your bathing suit.

Moving from his perch at the edge of the pool, Tech dipped into the waters next to you. He shook his head, gesturing to where Crosshair had stood. “Problem?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to let Crosshair's attitude dampen the moment. Leaning back against the warm rocks, you turned towards Tech, who was now unguarded and bare in the water. “Perhaps one,” you said with a light tone, your eyes inadvertently scanning his exposed skin.

Your eyes roved Tech’s bare upper body, thankful for your already present flush from the springs. As Tech lifted his goggles to defog them, you peek beneath the water's surface and your face heated at the realization that he was completely nude. Once his goggles were back in place, he caught your gaze. “And what would that be?”

“You are naked,” you pointed out, an amused undertone in your voice.

Without missing a beat, Tech replied, “And your clothes are transparent.” His response made you snap your attention to your own attire. To your horror, Tech was right - the wet fabric had gone see-through.

Tech glanced down at himself, seemingly puzzled, then shrugged. “As I have never partaken in such recreation before, I merely followed your example” The bubbling waters filled the brief silence that followed. Tech’s gaze flicked from your chest back to your eyes, his expression marked by genuine confusion. “What is the issue?” he asked.

Not even a shadow of understanding graced his face, he was devoid of any of your engrained reservations. It occurred to you that perhaps the social nuances of nudity were lost on clones. What use would trivial embarrassment serve for soldiers?

Tech’s gaze dropped to your chest again, but you saw nothing lewd in his attention. In place of the lechery you’d expect, his expression only held curiosity - as if your skin could tell him what you weren’t. Here was Tech, a battle seasoned soldier, sharing a moment of innocence with you free of the judgmental social expectations you were trained to abide by. The realization took away the anxiety you felt.

Chuckling, you managed to speak through your amusement, “They’re not supposed to be transparent, you know.” Your humor softened into a warm smile as you observed Tech’s puzzled expression. “It’s generally good practice to wear something a bit more... substantial when you’re swimming.” You waved a hand over your transparent clothing. Winking at him you added, “Or at least when you're in mixed company.”

Tech absorbed this information, his head tilting slightly as if filing away a new data point. “Ah, social norms?” he queried, more intrigued by the learning opportunity than embarrassed by his faux pas.

“Yes, exactly,” you agreed, your smile lingering. “But honestly, don’t worry about it. It’s just us here, and it’s actually quite refreshing to just relax about it.” You appreciated his unguarded state, a rare departure from his usual precision.

Nodding in understanding, Tech’s slight smile suggested he was becoming more comfortable with the situation. Adjusting his goggles he cleared his voice. “I will take note,” he responded, his voice carrying a hint of amusement now joining yours. A hue of pink came to his complexion - whether it was due to the warm waters or the new information you weren’t sure.

You watched him for a moment, the scientist in him always observing, always analyzing. It was endearing and made him all the more fascinating.

 “Speaking of relaxing,” you said cautiously, curious about his thoughts beyond his duties. “Have you ever thought about what you’d like to do when the war is over?”

Tech paused, his gaze drifting off across the steamy water. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted slowly. “There always seems to be another mission, another objective. But, I suppose...” his voice trailed off as he considered the question more seriously.

“An adventurer, maybe?” you suggested playfully, watching his reaction.

Tech looked at you, surprise registering on his face before it softened into contemplative curiosity. “An adventurer,” he repeated, rolling the idea around in his mind. His smile reappeared. “Exploring new planets, studying uncharted ecosystems without a firefight waiting around the corner—that does sound appealing.”

Your conversation drifted into a comfortable silence you both relaxed into. Eventually Tech announced it was time and you got to work heading back. You gave yourself plenty of credit for keeping your eyes above Tech’s waist as you gathered yourselves. Enough credit to indulge yourself in fully devouring the sight of him in his blacks as he led the way back to the grappling line.

Tech tugged his damp blacks into more comfortable angles before crouching in front of you, offering to carry you as he had on the way down. The first time you’d protested, this time you gladly climbed on board.

Securing your arms around his neck you chuckled, “And this really isn’t heavy for you?”

Tech scoffed, bouncing you into position as he stood. “You should not be surprised. After Wrecker, I am the strongest of my brothers.” Your brows raised at his use of ‘brothers’ as well as the fact of his strength. “Any concern is unwarranted, I am more than capable of carrying you.”

Your reply came in securing your still damp hold on him and that was enough for Tech to launch you both towards your veranda above. 

Showcasing his tactical skills, Tech expertly got you up and over the railing without so much breaking a sweat. 

"You were right," you exhaled, releasing a breath you hadn't realized you were holding as Tech helped you down from his back. Laughing lightly, you admitted, "You were right to carry me." Referring to your initial push to rappel on your own.

Tech straightened to roll out his shoulders. "I would get used to it if I were you," he remarked, a playful edge to his voice.

Dropping the bag from your shoulder, you squinted at Tech. “Get used to what?”

With a confident tilt of his head, Tech smiled. "The fact that I am typically correct." His tone, imbued with humor and self-assurance, sent another flutter through your stomach.

A familiar voice came from the open doors of your quarters. “I am glad to see you are taking your duties seriously.” Your sister’s voice spun you around. Her eyes were focused on the forest beyond, leaving it to guess whether she was addressing your or Tech.

Stepping out from among the drapes, she wore a floor-length light purple dress, cinched at the waist with a golden chain and her hair pulled back by an opal comb. The sight tightened something in your chest. Given that you were summoned to be her stand-in, her presence at home was unexpected. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” you admitted.

She glanced over Tech as she stepped towards you, with her attention lingering before she finally looked at you. “The hot springs?” She asked with a raised brow.

“We had the time,” you replied simply.

Humming thoughtfully, your sister pretended to smooth her dress, keeping her focus on you as she dismissed Tech. “You may leave us, trooper.” Her newfound, cool demeanor you’d first witnessed on Kamino was jarring to say the least.

Tech didn’t immediately leave, but looked at you first. His eyes darted between yours with something like concern and a silent question in his attention. Acutely aware of your sister’s scrutiny, you offered Tech a smile of assurance. He returned the gesture with a nod and promptly excused himself. 

He was most likely still in earshot when your sister asked in a cool tone edged with criticism, “What are you doing, sister?”

“Waiting on Mother’s instructions.” You hadn’t expected to sound as snippy as you did.

By the way her eyebrows settled, neither did your sister. Maintaining eye contact, she waved a hand at the doorway behind her. “I meant with the clones.” She shook her head, frustration furrowing her brow. “This stunt of yours is going too far.”

“This stunt of mine?” You recoiled slightly, genuinely confused. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Your sister began pacing the veranda, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head in frustration.. “I thought you were getting some-” Her hand whipped around flippantly, “-Latent rebellious phase out of your system,” she scoffed, looking skyward before fixing her gaze back on you. “But now I’m beginning to think you…” Her voice trailed off as she stopped, pinning you with a stern look. 

She approached with hands outstretched to capture your face. Her warm palms gently pressed on your face, a cherishing touch. “Negating your duties to this family is one thing. Fraternizing with lab experiments is another.”

Lab experiments.

The connection wasn’t instantaneous, after all, it was unthinkable that your sister, who had always been the epitome of compassion, could utter such a callous phrase. When her meaning sank in, you took a step, perhaps the first one ever, away from your sister. The morning sun caught on golden threads sewn through your sister's dress, giving her an off putting halo that chilled you.

Throughout your life, where your mother’s efforts were indifferent, your sister exemplified compassion for others. To hear her now, casually dehumanizing an entire race, was like seeing a stranger in her guise. Hearing your mother through your sister, wearing such a familiar face, gave you pause.

Something fractured inside you, and it sharpened your voice to a jagged edge. “How could you say something like that?” 

Suddenly, her face softened into the warm grin you adored. With a sound of concession her hands waved around her head in submission before falling to her sides. “I’m just saying you were born for more than this.” Pulling you close again, she planted a kiss on your forehead, like you were a wayward child.

A vein of anger pulsed through you as you shoved her off. “And what exactly was I born for?” You challenged, barely restraining the bite behind your tone.

Your aggression didn’t dim her smile; she brushed off your rising ire with one calm word, “More.”

“Now,” she announced, clapping her hands together as if to dispel the tension. “I’m here to ensure everything is in order for the Gala.” Without checking to see if you followed, she began walking back inside, detailing the timeline for the next day. She never looked back, so accustomed was she to your lifelong habit of trailing behind her.

Anchored in place, you watched her disappear into your quarters. ‘Lab experiments’ kept turning over in your thoughts.

Beyond the sisterly love that always bound you, it was her opinions, thoughts, and motivations that you so sought to protect. She aimed to improve people’s lives and be the voice of your planet’s needs. Without her selfless, kind drive—or even the calculating leadership of your mother—you knew you could still support your people and protect your sister by becoming her shield.

But this new facet of her, the glimpses of a harsher woman unknown to you, troubled you. Supporting your sister and raising her voice above your mother’s was one thing. Supporting a voice that echoed your mother’s was another entirely.

Compared to participating in whatever pageantry your mother and sister had planned, scaling the ivy-covered wall beside you looked was the more appealing option. 

Your sister called your name, finally prompting you forward. You could dwell on your family after the event.

The Gala was to be held in a hall open to the public, whereas the rehearsal took place in the privacy of a separate, more secure hall. Typically the venues were one in the same but with your standing in, necessary precautions were taken.

While you managed the rehearsal, Howzer briefed Clone Force 99 on the layout and security protocols of the structure.

Having finished surveying the building’s perimeter, Howzer led the squad up a switchback staircase carved into the mountain. “This is the last access point to the building and, coincidentally,” he noted as they reached the top stair, “a backdoor for tomorrow.”

The stairs led to a rocky outcrop that overlooked the hall where the event would be held. The hall was dimly lit, with staff attending to last-minute preparations.

“It’s an impressive structure,” Hunter remarked, walking to the edge of the outcrop. He knelt down, scanning the windows and balconies below through his binoculars.

Based on Tech’s research, neither the Governor nor the Senator had heat on them. The entire estate was designed to be impenetrable, and as far as Hunter was concerned, everything was in order and controlled. Hunter stood to face Howzer, rolling a shoulder towards the estate behind him. “This seems pretty straight forward, why the extra security?”

Howzer thought, nodding through a long inhale, “The Governor doesn’t do anything without necessity.” He paused, but could only shrug, “But I can’t say. She hasn’t indicated any specific threat.”

Having been on a similar line of thought as Hunter, Echo was the next to question with a question. “Why are clone troopers stationed here anyways?” Clone troopers went where there was unrest and instability; conditions that did not describe your planet. Yours had been stable, if not outright prosperous, in the war so far. 

“This planet exports more raw energy than most planets in the Mid Rim combined.” Howzer explained. “From what I’ve been told, when the war started and sides were being chosen, the Republic wouldn’t risk losing this planet’s energy supply so they’ve done everything possible to placate the politicians here.”

He continued, “Plus, having Clone troopers escort the major energy shipments? It’s a smart move for keeping away Separatists and pirates.”

For most of the afternoon, Crosshair had kept his attitude subdued. Whether it was due to a lack of commentary or abundance of restraint was anyone’s guess. Eventually, his patience waned, and he couldn’t help but interject, his voice dripping with disdain.  “And where does being a glorified bodyguard come into play?” There was no curiosity in his question, only pure condescension.

Howzer shifted his weight, a muscle feathering over his jawline. Looking Crosshair over he mused, “Seeing as how we’re in the same boat for the next two days,” Scoffing, Howzer turned his attention back to venue below and continued, “Why don’t you let me know when you figure it out?”

That earned a laugh from Wrecker. Almost knocking Crosshair off balance, Wrecker knocked him with an elbow and chuckled, “He gotcha there, Cross.”

A snarl rippled over Crosshair’s lips, twisting into a mean smile. “So you enjoy playing lapdog for a few prissy politicians?”

“Prissy is one way to put it.” Tech added under his breath as he lifted his scanner in the air.

A smile softened Howzer’s features as he noticed a familiar figure stepping out onto a balcony. "Like I said - it has its perks," he said, his gaze fixed on the scene below. The two of you were discussing something with your sister holding a datapad between you while 9-E trailed you.

Crosshair followed Howzer's gaze, his annoyance cooling slightly as he spotted you on the balcony. The sniper clicked his tongue and stepped back from the ledge.

Tech, still fiddling with his scanner, noticed the change in Crosshair and found you. He watched you for a beat, glancing between Howzer and you, before tucking his device away. “It looks like they are nearing the end of their preparations. This would be a good opportunity to head back.” It was all the prompting his squad needed to start moving towards the stairs.

Howzer didn’t immediately move, his eyes dropping away before locking back on you. “Tell me something,” He said, voice dropping low. “How’d she take it?”

The question sent a pulse of silence through the men as they exchanged looks. Howzer  faced the group, tapping the scar that marred his left cheek. “I saw her face.”

“Running to her defense?” Crosshair's voice was sharp, tinged with scorn.

Echo passed Crosshair a disapproving shake of his head. Sounding impressed, Echo was the one to answer, “She handled herself like a soldier.”

That was the answer Howzer expected, but still his shoulders fell. Howzer's expression softened slightly, though a hint of sadness lingered. "Prissy doesn't even begin to cover her on a good day," he muttered, more to himself than to the others.

In the limited time the Captain was stationed on your planet, he’d caught on quickly enough to your family dynamics. 

Initially, the Senator had seemed the most approachable. She was amiable, respectful, and appreciative of the clones' efforts, contrasting sharply with the Governor’s dismissive air. Whereas, you were distant, something Howzer took as alignment with the Governor’s sentiments. Rumors even made their way through the barracks that it was the Governor that kept you away, that she deemed clones unworthy of her daughter’s company. Howzer shut the insubordination down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought the same thing.

It wasn’t until the first conference Howzer attended with your family that his perspective changed. The conference kept the Governor distracted and gave you the first real chance to approach him. Your humor surprised him, your unabashed admiration for the clones even moreso. After an evening with you, he found himself in your company at every opportunity. While your leash was tight, more so than you probably even realized, you definitely knew your way around your restrictions.

Once Howzer heard how the Governor spoke of you and your ‘lack of ambition’ Howzer understood he only saw a small part of the whole. After a time she grabbed your arm so hard you winced, he worried about what she did when there weren’t witnesses. In the end, Howzer decided it wasn’t his place to comment. Even as a Captain in the Grand Army of the Republic, he was only a clone trooper.

So, he kept things professional, maintaining a safe boundary with you. Yet, he indulged your questions about training and duties, even encouraged you to get training if that’s what you felt your path was. When you didn’t return from Kamino, that safe boundary quickly felt like a noose on your neck.

Your safe return felt like a second chance. Howzer wouldn’t be a silent bystander again.

“You know,” Howzer addressed the group but looked directly at Crosshair. “We were made to take hits. Clones are trained all our lives to take this well.” He walked past the men, bumping into Crosshair on his way, adding, “Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What taught her to handle it so well?”

This was the first time a reg left Crosshair silent and the first time he resented his ability to see so far off. He didn’t want to look at you.

That evening, you returned well after dark. Exhausted, your feet ached, your back was sore, and your mind thoroughly numbed from your sister’s constant instructions. You didn’t even bother with the lights as you made your way through your quarters.

Slumping down on to the edge of the bed, you began pulling at the tight shoes your sister chose for you. As you bent, a twitch ran through you that flared pain in your shoulder. It reminded you of all the reasons your shoulder was sore and why you were staring at a pair of ugly, golden slippers.

A burst of rage sent the slipper soaring into the wall ahead of you. Unsatisfied, you ripped the other off and chucked it toward the open veranda doors, where it landed just short of the outside. 

Annoyed with yourself, you retrieved the shoe, and as you neared the door, you caught the drift of voices outside. With soft steps, you continued onto the veranda for a better listen.

Hunter’s stern voice made it through the wall first. “Crosshair, calm down.”

“No,” Crosshair snapped, his voice as furious as when you had headbutted him. “He knew who she was and didn’t say anything. He got us into this situation.”

Great, you inwardly groaned. They’re talking about me. Discomfort bloomed in your chest, sending prickling anxiety up your spine. They were fighting because of you.

Echo interjected, his tone just as firm. “The Prime Minister got us into this, not her. And you’re only making it worse with your attitude. Keep it to yourself. We have a mission to do and she certainly doesn’t need it,” he snapped, footsteps receding as he presumably walked back indoors.

As you strained to hear who was left, Tech’s reasoned voice floated over. “I hardly see how my knowledge of her identity caused any problems.”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent.” Crosshair fumed. “You knew, and because of your silence, I—We could’ve handled things differently.

Tech sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation in his voice. “I merely respected her decision to train without interference.”

“And look where that got her,” Crosshair retorted sharply, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm.

At that you sucked in a small breath. 

Tech started to push back when Hunter finally stepped in, “We’re done here. Tech, Wrecker, inside. Crosshair, stay out here and cool off.”

From the sounds of it, the others retreated inside and the solitary grumbling confirmed it for you. As softly as possible, you walked to the railing. You swallowed what you could of your anxiety and leaned over the balcony to peer around the ivy wall.

Sure enough, there Crosshair was, head in hands, leaning on the handrail. Catching him in this small moment of silence felt like seeing something you shouldn’t have. The moonlight illuminated him, bouncing off his hair enough to give him a glow. He was beautiful.

“What could you possibly want?” You jumped when Crosshair’s sharp tone cut through the silence. He dropped his hands and met you with an irritated look.

The first thing that came to mind spilled out, your nerves getting the better of you. “I want a lot of things.”

Crosshair shifted his weight onto one elbow, twisting in place to see you better. “What?” The tone in that one word sounded like a larger, more insulting question.

Swaying from the balls of your feet to your tiptoes and back, you considered tossing yourself from the balcony rather than saying another word. Staring out over the forest beyond you were slow to think of anything. Hesitantly, you started, “I want… this Gala to be over.” You turned a smile on Crosshair, hoping the humor would crack his scowl. 

It didn’t.

“And I want to apologize.”

That caught his attention. His sour expression pinched with confusion. He straightened, resting his hand on the railing. “For what?” he asked skeptically.

Taking a sidestep in his direction, you took another jab as lightening the mood, crooning, “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not for headbutting you.” His face didn’t change and the grip he had on the railing went white, spiking that prickling anxiety again. Crosshair said nothing, pushing away from the railing to leave. 

“Crosshair, wait!” You scooted to where the veranda met the dividing wall.

“Save it.” He growled without looking back.

His walking away, dismissing you, not giving you the time of day - all of it broiled a rage deep seated within you. A rage that had been festering inside you since childhood. The very same flood of rage that sent your shoes flying earlier. One of which you still held in hand.

Chucking the slipper as hard as you could, it found its mark on the back of Crosshair’s head. At an abrupt halt, he stood frozen, then slowly faced you. Where the moonlight once brought out a beauty in the man, now darkened an already angry glower.

“What was that for?” His voice was dangerously low.

Refusing intimidation, you curled your fingers into the air in front of you. Through gritted frustration, you said, “Because I’m tired of you being an ass! You’re angry with me so just-” Your hands fumbled in front of you, making angry shapes as you worked out the last words, “Just say it!”

Crosshair said nothing, going silent as he took two long strides, gripped the railing with one hand, and vaulted himself around the wall with fluidity. You managed to get out of his way as he danding on your side without a sound. He didn’t move any closer, but even feet away he stood over you. 

Not backing down, you were the one to close the distance, doubling down by saying, “Say it to my face.” He dodged the finger you thrust in his face.

The two of you stood like that, on the cusp of something angry, for almost a moment too long. As if neither of you had fully thought this through. Thought through what to say or how to say it. Especially seeing as your typical mode of conflict wasn’t on the table.

His jaw clenched a few times before he spoke and, much calmer than you expected, Crosshair said, “You should have told us who you were.”

Your frustration bled into desperation. “Crosshair, please, this isn’t a game to me. If I wanted to train, I had to-” On instinct you reached for his arm but he stepped out of reach before you made contact.

You both froze with your hand still hanging between you. Simultaneously, the two of you broke eye contact to look at your hand and when he didn’t swat your hand, you reached for him again. And again, he evaded you.

“Crosshair.” You said slowly. “What is going on?” His avoidance seemed like anger, but his sidestepping made you think again. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I...” Crosshair’s voice trailed off as he fell back a step, something flickering in his eyes. He tried to look elsewhere, but you stepped into his line of sight. A little jolt ran up his neck, almost taken aback by your persistence. What little control he had over himself seemed to be slipping.

Careful of the boundary you toed, you held his gaze while extending a hand to him again. His eyes didn’t falter, but the breath he held told you he knew what you were doing. With the caution of handling a wild animal, you gently touched his forearm. The muscles in his jaw went tight at your touch.

In a voice reserved for your sister, gentle and patient, you pushed softly, “It’s more than not telling you, isn’t it?”

The moonlight softened Crosshair’s brown eyes to a pale hazel and revealed a flicker of whatever fight he had with himself. “If I had known who you were-”

“You wouldn’t have trained me?” You cut him off, too eager to know his inner workings.

His mouth opened just enough for him to say, “That’s not it.” For only a second, had you blinked you’d have missed it, his eyes scanned your face.

You didn’t need to ask to know it was marks on your face he sought.

“No.” A dawning realization tilted your head. You weren’t sure if you were flattered or offended. “You wouldn’t have used me like a punching bag.”

Like a child caught in trouble, those pale hazel eyes widened. This was, perhaps, a shared realization.

“Are you avoiding me because you’re ashamed?” Crosshair didn’t respond, his silence a confirmation as he looked away, unable to meet your gaze. 

“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not more than I already have.”

His confession pushed your hand from his forearm to his hand, balled into a tight fist.

“Look at me,” You urged gently, wedging your fingers into his. “Crosshair.” For a long moment, he remained still, then slowly, he found your eyes again.

You shook your head with a weak smile, the weight of his guilt adding to your own. Squeezing his hand you made your own confession. “I am sorry-”

“Don’t-”

“No.” You said firmly, squeezing again. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you all into this. I just…” A crack in your voice made you pause. Coughing through it, you continued, “I just wanted to be more than I am.”

Red hot shame burned tears into the corners of your eyes. The hold you had on his fingers, sat loose in yours, suddenly felt like an imposition. For weeks he was forced to be in your company. Now you forced him away from his duties to be another unwilling participant.

You slipped your hand from his at the thought of doing anymore damage. Your retreat made it no farther as an armored arm slung around you.

Crosshair pulled you close, trapping you under his chin. The sound of crickets was dampened by his breathing and drowned out entirely when Crosshair spoke.

“Don’t apologize to me or anyone else for that matter.”

The moment was fleeting. Before you could fully register or react to his words, Crosshair let you go, stepping back to give you space, his expression perfect neutrality. The feel of his arm lingered around you and kept you speechless as he lightly swiped a thumb over your eye. 

When all you managed were a few blinks, his lips pulled slightly to one side. “That’s not a good look for you.”

Warmth spread through your chest when he made a swipe over your other eye. You chuffed at the soft gesture, but gently pushed his hand away. While your touch still lingered, you playfully tugged his hand to the side, as if inviting him to dance.

Angling a smile up at him, you asked, “And… who can’t keep their hands off of who?”

Crosshair’s smile vanished as he rolled his eyes and groaned, pulling his hand back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You palmed away any remaining tears, chuckling as you stepped back. “Oh, get over yourself.”

There was a beat of silence before you both laughed. It was the first time you heard him laugh softly. The lingering warmth from your brief, shared laughter made the cool night air more bearable.

“As fun as this is,” Crosshair drawled, taking another step away. He flashed you one last disarming smile before turning on a heel to leave. “I think someone needs her beauty sleep.”

Your stomach fluttered as you watched him walk away. Seeing him so relaxed and even playful made his tease feel unexpectedly charming.

With a light laugh and a wave, you called out, “Go away, Crosshair.”

Alone on the veranda, you wrapped your arms around yourself, absorbing the night’s calm. The day had been the longest you’d had in a long time. And at the end of it all - you somehow felt good. Making amends with Crosshair made you feel hopeful that whatever tomorrow brought, you were ready for it.

Whether the men of Clone Force 99 knew it or not, they were changing your life forever.

taglist: @bruh-myguy-what @havocsix2havoc5 @thebadbatchfan @rhyscosmos @euphrosyn3 @a-rose-of-amber @reader3 @gingermeowmeow @noraantilles @tbbtechlover @fruityfucker @sparks0918 @patat-gurl @locamoka-blog @gvnthesia @astralqueenoc @the-adventures-of-alex-aurelius @faborriku @galaxyquirks @bimboshaggy @starlightaurorab @commanderblood @froggygal @bbuckysbeardd @baddest-batchers

[jedi-hawkins]

Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder. 

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?" 

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14." 

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood." 

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?" 

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?" 

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon." 

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?" 

"Six weeks." 

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then." 

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running. 

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else. 

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?" 

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission." 

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand." 

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades. 

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard. 

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice. 

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him." 

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?" 

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command." 

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard. 

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be." 

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow." 

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile." 

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-" 

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?" 

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds. 

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?" 

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such." 

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously. 

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?" 

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else." 

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard. 

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby. 

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?" 

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up. 

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?” 

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” 

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind. 

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born. 

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad. 

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him. 

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.” 

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth. 

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.” 

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly. 

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.” 

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies. 

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds. 

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers. 

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.” 

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes. 

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.” 

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say. 

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.” 

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance. 

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks. 

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.” 

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.” 

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.” 

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it. 

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”  

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside. 

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team. 

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes. 

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike. 

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you. 

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck. 

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head. 

“Are you karking crazy?!” 

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.” 

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.” 

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?” 

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink. 

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?” 

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle.. 

He scoffs. 

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.” 

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?” 

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.” 

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly. 

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye. 

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.” 

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed. 

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply. 

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.” 

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face. 

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing. 

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up. 

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.” 

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.” 

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.” 

“Oh yeah, what about?” 

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly. 

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.” 

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range. 

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you. 

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions. 

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters. 

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. 

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.” 

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay. 

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out. 

You take it back from him and move to stand up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground. 

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.” 

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.” 

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position. 

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range. 

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?” 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.” 

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.” 

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit. 

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply. 

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more. 

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body. 

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets. 

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time. 

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.” 

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense. 

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile. 

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps. 

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin. 

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water. 

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter. 

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.” 

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.” 

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind. 

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.” 

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks. 

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item. 

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile. 

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’ 

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up. 

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it. 

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition. 

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it. 

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest. 

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable. 

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. 

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.” 

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk. 

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.” 

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution. 

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.” 

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree. 

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target. 

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target. 

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said. 

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present. 

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you. 

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic. 

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you. 

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.” 

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.” 

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.” 

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees. 

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing. 

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.” 

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.” 

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in. 

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go. 

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment. 

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp. 

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead. 

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.” 

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard. 

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers. 

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend. 

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps. 

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane. 

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in. 

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much. 

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world. 

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him. 

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself. 

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

 A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

[replaytech]

just let me help you | tech x reader

warnings: small injury

(shoutout to my sister for this fic idea☝🏻)

-

“Kriff”, was not the first irritated word to leave techs mouth.

He had been working on fixing a part of the marauders control panel for the last 20 minutes.

All of his efforts, however, are to no avail.

A pair of footsteps walks up behind him and sighs, “Tech, I’m calling in someone from the hangar”, hunter says.

Tech just adjusts his goggles and continues tinkering with the controls, “That is unnecessary, I can fix it.”

Hunter knows full well that tech is capable of fixing just about anything, but they were on a serious time crunch to get off of this planet.

-

You’re making some minor adjustments to one of your astromecs when a tall, dark haired man with a face tattoo walks up to you.

“Are you a mechanic?”

The hand that’s holding a wrench stills as you look down at your dusty coveralls and back at him with a “What does it look like?” look.

He laughs lightly, “Were kind of in a hurry and could use some help, we can’t pay much, but it would be really appreciated.”

You stand up, dust off your legs and push your glasses farther up your nose, “Payment isn’t needed, lead the way.”

-

You walk into the cockpit of their ship and see a man looking very frustratedly at some loose wires, “I am getting there, hunter.”

“I’ve never seen an omicron class attack shuttle with these modifications before.”

He stops what he’s doing immediately and turns around, “Pardon me, I thought you were my brother.”

The way he’s looking at you makes your face turn slightly pink, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in or anything.”

He adjusts his goggles, “Who are you, exactly?”

You fiddle with your eyewear as well and tell him your name, “I’m a mechanic here at the hangar, your brother sent me.”

He looks at you silently for a second before swallowing and facing away from you, “I am Tech. However, I can manage this, you may go back to your duties around the hangar.”

You cross your arms and tilt your head, “Your brother said that you’ve been working on it for a while, can I just take a look?”

He glances at you sideways and moves over slightly, “I suppose a second opinion wouldn’t be a negative thing.”

You smile softly and make your way over to the control panel, looking at every single detail and focusing on each piece.

Tech, of course, notices how entranced you seem to be by the technology of the ship and can’t help but stare at you.

The way your glasses fall down your nose slightly, the way your eyebrows slightly furrow, the way you bite your bottom lip, he takes note of it all. Your focus might be on the controls, but techs focus is all on you.

Tech blindly reaches for some random wires, seeing how his gaze can’t be torn away from your face, and you notice, “Wait, don’t put those toget-“, your voice cuts off.

You warn him a little too late, and he brings a wire down onto another and shocks his fingers.

He lets out a startled sound and backs away, “Are you alright?”

He looks at you and the way that you’re worriedly checking his hand, “I, I think I will manage.”

You look up at him with a quirked brow, “It would kill you to ask for help, wouldn’t it?”

You swear he’s slightly blushing, “I suppose it wouldn’t cause extensive damage to my health.”

A grin breaks out onto your face as you both sit in chairs opposite from each other. You pull out a small med kit from your satchel.

You hold his hand and slowly peel off his glove. You start to feel almost nervous. All you’re doing is taking off his glove but it feels so… close.

You gently inspect his fingers, “It’s not too bad, you just got a first degree burn on your pointer finger and thumb.”

You look up to see him looking at you silently with his lips parted, but after a second or two, he clears his throat, “That’s the conclusion I came to as well.”

As you wrap his fingers in bacta patches and dry wraps, you speak up, “So, are you and your brothers soldiers?”, you gesture to his armor.

“My brothers and I are enhanced clones from kamino. I suppose we are technically still soldiers, just for a different cause.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Enhanced? I’ve heard of clones because of the war, but I never knew there were enhanced ones.”

Tech adjusts his goggles, “Yes, each of my brothers has an enhanced trait. Hunter can track and sense any electromagnetic frequency on the planet, crosshairs marksmanship is unlike any you will ever see, wrecker has the strength of approximately 100 regular clones and I have what would be referred to as a brilliant mind.”

You finish bandaging his fingers but his hand stays loosely on top of yours, “I find that men with the highest intelligence quotients tend to be the most engaging and endearing.”

He looks a little flushed and maybe even taken aback, but recovers quickly, “That is one way to characterize those with a mind similar to mine.”

You look at him for a few seconds before awkwardly clearing your throat, “Well, we should probably get back to fixing up your ship. Try not to connect two opposing wires this time around.”

You once again feel nervous around the brilliant clone. The way he looks at you, it is almost as if he is seeing the beautiful blue lakes of Naboo for the first time.

He stands next to you as you resume inspecting the controls, “Technically, it was not my fault.”

You snort, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I am not used to being in the company of someone who has a mind like mine, it is very distracting. The amount of beauty you have in your face alone does not help my situation. Neither does the fact that every other part of you is equally radiant and stunning.”

You nearly choke. Tech thought you were beautiful?

Somehow, your face becomes more blushed, “I don’t know about my beauty being as much as you say”, you awkwardly laugh.

Tech glances over at you, “Those who do not acknowledge your beauty simply do not have the brain capacity to realize how exquisite you really are.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile, “You’re one to talk. I blush everytime you look me in the eye.”

He’s about to say something else but he catches the look of confusion on your face, “Is everything alright?”

You point to a switch below the controls, “Your power switch is turned off. Tech, there’s nothing wrong with your controls”, you can’t help but laugh.

You turn the switch on and the panel comes to life, “I did not realize that somebody turned off the switch.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you turn around to see a tall man with a tattoo over his eye and a toothpick in his mouth, one of his brothers, probably.

He points his toothpick at tech, “I had to get her here somehow. You’re welcome”, he walks away.

You grin and cross your arms, “So your ship was fine this whole time?”

“That is correct, but I was not aware of that.”

“And why would your brothers bring me here?”

“Perhaps they noticed my gaze linger on you for longer than usual when we first arrived.”

[thesmollestnerd]

All of this not to mention we're seeing that trust slowly being rebuilt. It takes time. The more Cross opens up to the Batch about what happened, the more trust is there.

For the people who keep hating on Hunter: yall need to realize this poor man has been traumatized too. Hunter has probably been trained/conditioned out of expressing his emotions deeply, because he had to prioritize the safety of his squad, he had to be the level head. I cannot begin to tell you how much that fucks with your psyche to put everyone's needs before your own.

For fucks sake, you think he didn't internalize Crosshair's 'betrayal' as a reflection on himself? You think he wasn't shattered by the loss of Tech? Worried sick and terrified for Omega?

He might be cautious around Cross bit it's clear he loves his brother so damn much, even if he was hurt, even if he doesn't initially trust him.

I really really do not think Hunter is jealous of the attention Crosshair is getting from Omega. That’s not how that scene registered with me at all. He’s not insecure like that and, despite widespread fanon beliefs, he doesn’t have this unjustified vendetta against Crosshair. He has legitimate grievances and valid reasons to not trust him.

I think he really values Omega’s opinion. He knows she’s just a kid but he also knows how smart she is. What she thinks matters to him, so if he can see that she genuinely trusts Crosshair enough to copy his mannerisms, it might make him reconsider how much of his own trust he can give back to Crosshair too.

At the same time, he’ll also just be worried about her. He wants her to be right about Crosshair, but he’s not willing to risk losing her again on the off chance she isn’t.

So it’s a bit of both. He wants to be able to trust Crosshair again, but he’s still being cautious and that is completely understandable.

People want Hunter to be a terrible person so bad and it baffles me. He’s never done anything other than act like a human and that means he’ll make mistakes, sure, but at his core he’s a genuinely good person. He’s just tired of losing people and isn’t willing to take as many chances anymore.

[moonstrider9904]

That Old Song

Pairing: Crosshair x Female Reader

Summary: After pining after him for months, you get the chance to see Crosshair one more time before he ships out with his squad to Kaller.

Tags: SFW. Kissy-kiss, pre-relationship, general softness, implied tragic romance

Word count: 1693 words

Read on AO3 | My one-shot masterlist

This one was inspired by That Old Song from the Slime Rancher soundtrack because it gives me tragic romance vibes and even though I always wanna give Crosshair a happy ending, I really felt inspired to explore the more tragic side of canon because we all know what happens to him by this point (and season 3's not even over lol Lord help us)

The sky turned purple as the sun on Anaxes began to set. The warm toned twilight would always bring a sense of foreboding with it, but you were used to it. The hangar on Anaxes was not a front line, but it was still a warzone, and war didn't discriminate. It took away, it destroyed, it forced goodbyes, but like the stars that were rising in the ever-darkening sky, there were always gleams of hope that traced finer, beautiful shapes if you knew how to look for them.

He was such a glimmer, at least to you.

You hadn't stepped a foot inside the base since the Havoc Marauder landed. Though repairs and refueling were insistently handled by the team's own engineer, you had the honor of being the only mechanic around whom Tech would even allow to set a finger on the hull of the modified Omicron-class attack shuttle. While he was off running diagnostics and the rest of the squad loaded up on rations, you were finishing up putting away the supplies you'd needed for a standard oil change. You caught the scent of the oil coming from your gloves, which you carefully removed to reveal your hands, the skin on them soft and surprisingly well taken care of despite your profession. At that moment, you could hear the subtle pacing behind you, and a gentle smile formed on your lips. You'd had so many encounters with them that, while short, had already allowed you to recognize how each of the defective clones walked - you'd gotten the chance to know such a detail from many clone battalions, but you didn't enjoy knowing any of them as much as you did for Clone Force 99.

The steps approaching you were light as a feather resulting in lifelong training for stealth, and long resulting in a tall silhouette. Carefully paced one after the other, you knew he was already smirking at the sight of you. It was simply who he was.

You turned around and your eyes landed on the silver hair and the deep brown eyes that would reflect sunlight so beautifully whenever a golden ray hit them just right - that was the only thing that made you yearn for sunshine in the middle of that twilight. Regardless, you couldn't help but grin at the man approaching you. Being in his presence was everything that occupied your thoughts when he was gone.

"Thought you'd be here," he said while chewing on a toothpick.

The giggle that left you was just a bit too obvious for your taste, but you muscled through it. "Aren't you smart."

"I hope you haven't been here all week," he teased. "I don't tell you when I'll be here in my letters for you to tie yourself to the hangar."

"It might surprise you to know I'm always exactly where I need to be," you smirked, your hands traveling to your hips. "I just happen to be needed here right now."

Crosshair, who was always so stern and so serious, let out a chuckle in front of you. The way others talked about him, even his brothers, you were already sure by then that you were one of the only people he ever did that around, and the low sound of his laughter and the way his chest fluttered when he did made you feel your knees giving out on you. Finally, Crosshair took a couple of calculated steps toward you, decreasing some of the distance between the two of you. He looked down at you, silent for a moment, so peaceful you could hear the wind blowing at your sides. Despite the cool breeze, all you could feel on your skin was heat.

"Have you heard the rumors?" You asked him.

Crosshair nodded, the seriousness returning to his face. "Yeah. War's ending soon."

Sarcasm flooded his previous remark, and you gave him a bittersweet smile. "You don't seem all that happy about it."

"It's not that," Crosshair replied. "I'm not in a position to assert or expect anything."

"Right," your mind went back to your initial pondering on the cruelties of war, but you decided to focus on the man in front of you. "Will you be headed to Coruscant?"

Crosshair shook his head. "We're needed on Kaller."

"Oh," you said. "I see. Kaller... snowy, full of clankers."

"My specialty," Crosshair purred.

You giggled. "So... maybe it's safer to say that I'll see you again soon?"

As you were talking to him, you inched closer to Crosshair. Your hands were down at your sides, but you couldn't help but notice how close his hands were to yours, and how easy it would be to reach out and touch his gloved fingers with your bare ones. What you hadn't realized up until that moment, even with all the letters and the hours you'd spent thinking about Crosshair, was how desperately you needed to hold him, and to be held by him.

But Crosshair sighed, hesitant. "Darling..."

"We haven't been sending each other letters for months now just because," you whispered. "Have we?"

A faint smile appeared on his thin lips. "No."

Your own smile, though soft, grew at him, and your eyes seemed to sparkle.

"Crosshair..." You sighed, the dreaminess finding its way into your voice.

He couldn't help but laugh again. "Well, damn. You really are smitten."

Flustered, you looked away, but Crosshair reached out to gently hold your chin and have you look up at him again. He took in the way you were looking at him, with sparkling eyes and an adorable smile, your cheeks warm and your silhouette glowing with hope, like a girl first entranced by puppy love. Your hand went up to perch itself over his wrist, but as you did, your romantic heart stilled itself when the thought of him leaving soon bled into your mind, forcing the smile to slowly disappear from you.

"What is it?" He asked.

You chuckled bashfully. "I just..."

You feared the effect of your words, you feared that it would put a pressure on him that he didn't need, one that no soldier deserved to be burdened with. But inside you, a flame burned, one that prompted you to simply speak now, to not hold back, to not reduce yourself and your feelings to letters and comms. Crosshair, the man of your dreams, finally stood before you, his hand on your skin. You would never forgive yourself if you wasted this opportunity now that you had it.

Because how in the world could you have known what happened next?

"I just don't want you to leave," you whispered. "I never do."

Crosshair gave a soft exhale as he rolled the toothpick to the opposite corner of his lips and spat it out to the side only to look at you again, his gaze turning gentle on you. His other hand traveled up to your face, and now he cupped your cheeks with a steady, soft grip.

"Would it help if I told you I don't want to leave you here either?" He asked.

You smiled softly. "It's nice to know that."

Your eyes met, and you were overtaken by the desire to collapse in his arms and become one with him. You valued each second you'd been gifted to look at his face; your gaze traced the tattoo over his right eye, memorizing the little textures where the ink seemed to falter - you'd never noticed it wasn't a solid line, it looked like it'd been drawn over the artisanal canvas of his skin. You basked in his warmth as your hands reached out to his waist, and you pulled yourself closer to him, and while you did, part of you wanted to curse and lash out at the fact that you hadn't done this sooner.

But you were there now, and that was enough to calm you. And if the war was ending, you wanted to cling to the hope that you'd be in the arms of your beloved again soon.

"Crosshair?" You asked.

With his gaze, he prompted you to continue.

"I..." you said. "I want to kiss you."

Crosshair didn't wait longer, and he slowly lowered himself to gently press his lips to yours. You felt as if every star in the sky above you would explode at that moment, and your arms slid up around Crosshair's shoulders while his slid around your waist. A kiss that started out softly didn't hesitate to become what you could only describe as romance itself, fully engulfing you both in one wavelength as your lips danced together, timeless in your own right. Softly, you moaned at his taste, and you vowed never to forget the sensation of his lips on yours, warm and intoxicating, like it would give you everything you'd ever need for the rest of your days.

You never wanted it to end, but the time came for Crosshair to set you down again. You hadn't even noticed when you'd started to stand on your toes, but when the soles of your feet were back on the ground, you looked up at him with hope, with love, and with the unspoken desire to scream "don't go" building up and eating you up inside.

With all those feelings in your gaze, looking at you nearly broke Crosshair's heart.

Your hands gently traveled to Crosshair's cheeks and you felt his stubble growing in beneath your fingertips. You gave a light chuckle and added that detail to the many you'd remember from that night, and finally, you smiled brightly at Crosshair.

"Let me know where you end up after Kaller," you said.

Crosshair smiled softly. "You know I will."

You knew it would be time for him to leave soon, so you resolved to be with him in the time you had left. You threw your arms around Crosshair and held him tighter than you'd ever held anyone. You didn't mind the armor under your soft body, all that mattered was you were holding him.

And fervently, during those last few moments, you prayed neither Kaller nor whatever came after it would take him away from you.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[neon-junkie]

Omega: Tech, I can't sleep :(

Tech: How about a bedtime story?

Omega: Yes, please!

Tech: This was one of my favourites when I was a cadet. The beginners manual to the Omicron-class attack shuttle, Volume 1.

Omega: uhmm... suddenly, I'm tired... maybe I don't need a bedtime story?

Tech: Oh, but I insist! Let me read it for you!

[yoitsjay]

Bestie when I tell you your fast and for what Tech got me feelin some kind of way 😳🫣🤤 like girl please the Tech community is T H I R S T Y!!!! Anyway love your work 💕💗💘 if your not doing anything could I request a Crosshair x y/n who is a former Jedi experiencing love for the first time? Hope you have a good day or night 👋🏼

Omg thank you! So nice to hear good feedback on the fics I write 🤭 I absolutely love your idea, so here we go! Hopefully I did ok, this one kind of stumped me

Yeah?... Good

Pairings: Crosshair x gn jedi! Reader

Summary: you had left the order when you realized how corrupt it became. But your past keeps chasing you and now you find yourself feeling things you've never felt before for a certain clone who doesn't even know you were a jedi... or does he?

Warnings: crosshair kinda loves u right away cuz your so awesome. Yoda is your previous master, white lightsaber, crystal cleansing, italics is a flashback

Word count: 2099

“The Jedi had become so corrupt! We used to be peacekeepers! Now all we do is fight in wars and lead good men to their deaths! I will not be a part of an order that partakes in such violence!”

Those were the last words you had said to the jedi council, before leaving. You left your whole life behind, and had to pick up a new life and build it from scraps.

You tried many things, regular jobs in the city, mechanical work, ship maintenance. Eventually you had saved up enough credits to leave Coruscant and you did, and you had hoped you would never return but you had picked up bounty work, as much as you hated it, and it was bringing you back to Coruscant.

The bounty was actually put up by the republic, a call for extra aid. You were to meet a small batch of elite clones, complete a retrieval mission in separatist space, and return to Coruscant. Returning to this dreaded planet, but as long as nobody recognized you, you would be fine.

You were wearing a decent amount of armor, and a helmet that covered your entire head. It had a voice modulator so if you needed to speak your voice would be distorted. But your end goal was to say as little words as possible.

When you arrived in front of the GAR, you noticed several different ships but one really stood out. It was an omicron class attack shuttle but it looked modified. It was interesting since you had never seen a ship like that before when you were a jedi.

You continued analyzing the exterior of the ship, keeping a decent distance as you were still waiting on a pickup or for someone to come greet you.

“Ain’t she pretty?” A voice called out, and you turned your head slightly. You noticed this man was a clone, but with several different cybernetics, and a scomp on his left arm. You nodded, turning away from the ship to face the man, realizing that more people, helmeted and in clone armor, were standing behind him.

This must have been the elite clone squad.

“You must be the bounty-”

“mercenary.” You cut off, your modulator transforming your voice as it spoke, making it deeper, and more crackly. The cyber man nodded, turning to look at his brothers. “This is the rest of clone force 99, our leader is Sergeant Hunter, and beside him are Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker.” He introduced, pointing to each individual as he said their names.

You nodded again. stepping forward to extend your hand. The men had removed their helmets, and you could see their brief surprise before Hunter shook your hand. And then you extended your hand to Crosshair, who stared at you before scoffing.

You rolled your eyes but lowered your hand. “Y- Spectre.” You spoke up, almost using your name instead of your codename, which you had quickly corrected.

You had picked the name specter since as a mercenary or bounty hunter, you tended to disappear in plain sight, and stir chaos without being seen.

It was probably because of the modifications in your armor, you had a device built into your suit that allowed you to camoflauge no matter where you went,so you basically became invisible when you needed too

“Alright Spectre… We’ll brief you on the mission on the Marauder.” Hunter spoke up and you nodded, staying behind for only a few seconds as they walked forward. Crosshair roughly shoulder checked you as he walked past, but you only glared, giving him no satisfaction of seeing a reaction.

The ship was smaller than any ship you’ve been on, but it seemed to hold five people nicely enough. Once the ship lifted off, Echo had informed the council that they picked up the aid. Yoda was on the transmission, and he stared at you, despite not seeing you… like he could sense your presence.

“Sense something familiar I do… trust the operative, i suggest.” Ypda stated, looking back at Echo. “May the force be with you. Echo.” Yoda finished before the transmission ended. A sigh escaped your lips, but was not heard by the others.

Soon everyone was called into the cockpit, and Hunter pulled up a hologram of… your planet?

You were born on an outer rim separatist planet, your family knew how strong with the force you were, so they had smuggled you off world and basically shipped you to Coruscant and to the Jedi temple. You were only a child, but you always remembered where you came from… But at the time you didn’t understand why they just gave you up. Until you saw the war first hand with your master.

Yoda.

Of course he could sense you, even through a damn hologram. And now you were returning home, to a planet under heavy siege.

You clenched your fists, but zoned into the briefing, not knowing that Crosshair was examining you, seeing you tense up, and breathe a little heavier before clenching your hands and calming down.

There was something about you, something that he couldn’t place.

“So our mission is to destroy the droid factories to limit their creation so Yoda’s battalion can swoop in and take Rystone for the republic. Specter, we’ve been told you can camouflage, and you're highly trained in stealth. So you and Crosshair will be a team and will sneak inside the factory to plant charges along the main support columns.” Hunter explained, and you nodded briefly.

He then went on to task the others, and soon you were readying your weapons. You carried a blaster, and a longer vibroblade that wasn't quite a sword, but wasn’t a standard knife either. You also placed several throwing knives on different points of your armor, having mini knife holsters strapped pretty much between every armor plate.

Crosshair watched you while cleaning his rifle. He couldn’t tell if you were male, or female. Not like it mattered he liked both. But the way your aura had been drawing him in, he almost felt bad shoulder checking you earlier.

Almost.

Once you were done you turned to look at him, tilting your head. “Will you take that helmet off?” He asked, and you shook your head. “No.” You replied swiftly, and Crosshair hummed. “You like knives?” He then asked, and you nodded. “Easier to use than a blaster.” You huffed.

In truth you would much rather use lightsabers. But that was a luxury you couldn’t have any longer.

Soon the Marauder landed on Rystone, and you all made your way to the city, splitting up into groups once you breached the wall. Crosshair led the way to the droid factory, and you did your best to ignore the surroundings of your home planet. But it felt like the force was trying to pull you in a specific direction.

You pushed it away, focusing on the mission as a grunt left your lips. Now comes your part in the mission. You grabbed several charges, leaving the rest with crosshair as your armor and weapons camouflaged and blended in with your surroundings.

You ran, slightly crouched, placing a charge and setting it at every column like you were instructed to Crosshair did what he needed too, and eventually you ran into him again. You disabled the camo and followed him up to a safe vantage point.

Crosshair commed Hunter and told him the charges were set before he turned to look at you, crouched and studying the area. “Why’d you become a mercenary?” He drawled out, and you glanced at him before mulling over your answers.

“Money.” You settled, it was a typical answer, not entirely a lie but not a full truth either. And even with the modulator-

“Hey! intruders!” A droid suddenly shouted, breaking you and Crosshair from what you could assume was a conversation. You grabbed a throwing knife, jumping to avoid blaster fire as you twisted in the air, throwing your knife towards the droid, subtly using the force to direct the blade which landed right into the droid's head. But the alarms were already pulled.

You ran towards the other droids,picking up the knife from the dead droid as you started slicing the other ones. Crosshair laid cover fire if you needed it, but the way you were cutting the droids like butter?

He was kind of in awe of your skill.

Until a droid had grabbed you by your neck, its punch knocking your helmet off your head and onto the ground. Crosshair was too occupied shooting at the droids advancing towards him, but you managed to get out of the droid's grip, slicing its wiring with a secret blade on your wrist.

You fell to the ground, gasping for air as you gripped your throat. The explosions then went off and you winced, But Crosshair was by your side and he was gently helping you to your feet. “I’m okay.” You choked out, ignoring the look he gave you. “yeah?... good.” He muttered, keeping his hand on the small of your back just for a moment before he pulled away.

Hunter then came over the coms and told Crosshair and you to meet at the rondevu point. So from there Crosshair led you out of the droid factory, taking out whatever droids remained from the explosions.

You had tried looking for your helmet but it was knocked over the edge when you were fighting that bigger droid. Crosshair had been… admiring? no, but he was definitely staring at you, analyzing your features that had now been revealed to him.

He thought you were gorgeous. You had a few scars littered across your face but he liked that, he prefered people who weren't afraid to take hits and then wore their scars without being ashamed.

Soon you reached the rondevu point, and the other clones’ eyes widened when they saw you without your helmet, but what was most surprising was that Yoda was standing beside them, a smile on his face almost.

“Ah, I had a feeling it was you, I did… Young one.” Yoda spoke up. You glanced around nervously before allowing yourself to one knee. “Master…” You trailed off, but his tiny hand reached out, and rested on yours. He comforted you, with such a simple gesture. “Strong with the force, you still are. Practicing, have you?” He asked, and you chuckled, nodding with a smile.

Hearing this, Crosshair and the rest of the bad batch were flabbergasted. You were once a jedi, let alone Yoda’s padawan?

regardless they didn’t interrupt, just staring, waiting.

Just then, Yoda pulled out your lightsaber, a dual saber which was your preferred stance. But something was wrong…

“So much anger, you had for the council. Your saber, connected to you it was. For years, it fed on your hate.” Today explained, opening the saber to reveal a red Kyber crystal.

“No longer a jedi, perhaps. But a peacekeeper, you are.” He stated, and you used the force to hold the lightsaber. You closed your eyes, and sighed.

The red of your once vibrant blue crystal started fading, as you let go… of all that sadness and frustration that you held. You cleansed the crystal, until it was white. You then closed up the saber, and it landed in your hands.

“Right you were, always… young padawan.”Yoda spoke up, looking around. “Sense something evil, i do. Trust in the force, and in your new friends, yes?” Yoda asked, and you nodded, standing up to your feet before looking at Crosshair, who had a light smirk playing on his face.

“hell yeah! Do we get a jedi?!” Wrecker exclaimed, pumping his fists in the air with a grin. You looked down at Yoda, who chuckled. You spoke up. “Not quite, but if you’ll have me… i would love to stay.” You stated, and Hunter nodded slowly. “With the way Crosshair looks at you like a piece of candy that should be no problem.” He teased his brother, and you smiled, nodding to Yoda.

“Take back your home, we will.” he stated, and walked away. You sighed, staring down at the lightsaber before you ignited it. one blade at a time.

The white blades hummed with emotion, emotion you channeled and let go as needed.

Not a jedi, not anymore… But a protector of the light. A lover, a fighter, a person.

With a family…

and boy did Crosshair ever make your life exciting.

Even as he tried to kill you on Kaller, now that was fun.

➺

Tag list:

Crosshair:

@nyctophobiart

Tbb:

@moomoog017 @only-my-unexistent-fiances

[baddest-batchers]

Learning All the Time

here is a Tech x fem!reader idea that’s been living in my head for the past few days. enjoy, loves~💕

SFW, brief description of kissing, fast feelings, mutual pining, lots of fluff

thank you @techwrecker for beta reading for me again and for the so needed encouragement to finish this and not scrap it!

As a mechanic, it made sense for you to already know your way around a modified Omicron class attack shuttle. And you did, for the most part, but this particular ship that belonged to the most interesting batch of clones you had ever met was just as unique as they were. Tech offered a datapad to you containing the Marauder’s schematics with all of the modifications he had implemented thus far in between his squad’s various missions upon your arrival to the hangar on Kamino. Upon a brief skim of them, you realized there was a lot to memorize before you would even attempt to repair so much as a door panel. In the weeks that followed your joining of Clone Force 99, you dedicated most of your time to committing the ship schematics to memory, however, you noticed this was beginning to become more precarious with every moment you spent with the Marauder’s resident genius and pilot.

Since joining the squad of unique clones, you quickly realized just how much you enjoyed each of the Batch’s company, but in Tech’s presence was by far your favorite place to be. He was exceptionally brilliant, quick witted, and oh so endearing with the way he was constantly pushing his goggles back up his nose every so often. You were smitten with him, quirks and all.

Swiveling in the copilot’s seat you dropped the datapad to your lap and brought your fingers to massage your temples, hoping to knead away the growing haze in your brain. Your thoughts continued to flit to Tech as you futilely tried to study. You realized that you had spent more time day dreaming about him than committing the ship’s schematics to memory.

If he was showing you something he happened to be working on you listened intently to him and silently hoped he knew you were genuinely interested in his work. Assisting him on repairs was by far one of your favorite pastimes, though. More often than not, Tech would ask for your thoughts on a particular modification and then you would end up working on it together. It was butterfly inducing to be wedged under the panels of the Marauder with him. On more than one occasion you’d end up brushing up against his arm or your fingers would briefly make contact with his gloved palms while handing him tools. All of this was more than enough to distract you from your studies of the ship’s schematics.

You didn’t hear Tech when he asked you about the ship’s continuing issue with its inertia dampeners. Still kneading your temples and lost in thought, Tech said your name again and this time his voice pulled you out of your daydreaming.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You flinched, sitting more upright from your relaxed posture in the copilot chair.

“I asked if you had any thoughts as to what could be causing the issue with the inertia dampeners.” Tech replied as he turned to look at you in his seat.

“Are you quite well?” He asked, his entire body swiveling now in the pilot seat to face you while taking in your frustrated expression.

“I’m sorry, Tech, I swear I’ve been studying the ship’s schematics. I’m just—“ You let out a short breath, “I’m..a little distracted, I guess.” You say while swiping through the Marauder’s schematics once again and hoping that he couldn’t perceive the way he flustered you with so much as a glance in your direction these days.

“There is no need to apologize. Perhaps you should rest before we drop out of hyperspace and arrive at Kamino.” Tech said kindly.

Noticing his full attention now turned to you, your eyes found his face again. His eyes had that kind look to them that softened his faint smile lines. Before Tech could catch the growing blush that was starting to spread across your face, you hastily dropped your attention to the datapad in your lap.

“No, I’d rather stay here and continue to study, if that’s alright.” You offer back to him.

“And I promise I’ll figure out what’s wrong with the dampeners once we land, I just need to—“

“There is no need to do so right away, sarad.” Just as quickly as the Mando’a term slipped from Tech’s lips, he quickly turned his attention back to the ship’s controls. Before he could formulate an explanation for using the word, both you and Tech heard a familiar low chuckle from the cockpit entrance.

Crosshair’s lithe form leaned on one side of the entrance, arms crossed and a toothpick slotted between his lips.

“When are you going to tell her, Tech?” The sniper’s mirth was palpable. How long had he been standing there?

“Tell me what?” You looked from Crosshair to Tech.

“What did you call me, Tech?” You asked innocently, truly not knowing the meaning of the word he had used.

“He called you ‘sarad.’” Crosshair smirked while shifting his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. He was definitely enjoying this way too much for Tech’s comfort.

Your expression didn’t change, you were not very familiar with Mando’a, knowing only a few words much to your own surprise being that you’d spent a considerable amount of time around clones.

“Ah, well, it means—“ Tech began.

“It means ‘flower’.” Crosshair cut to it before Tech could uncharacteristically stammer out his reply.

Your jaw went a little slack in surprise and the only word you could manage to form was a quiet “oh.”

Tech shifted uncomfortably in his seat before shooting his brother a look of annoyance that Crosshair waved off as he walked toward the back of the Marauder.

Something in your stomach fluttered at the realization of Tech’s use of the Mando’a word and it’s possible implication. Before he could begin to speak again, you smiled and tipped your head to one side, trying to catch his avoidant gaze.

“Tech?” You called his name in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard his name said. A sudden burst of courage moved your hand to gently rest on Tech’s knee, stopping him from facing away from you. Butterflies soared in your stomach at the feel of him under your hand.

“You know how I said I was distracted earlier?” You said slowly, your newfound courage pushing you further. Hesitantly, you removed your hand from his knee while inching yourself to the edge of your seat.

“Yes, I do recall you saying that.” Tech affirmed, eyes dropping from your face to his knees that were mere inches from yours.

“Well..it’s you..you are what’s been distracting me the past few weeks. The way you talk about the things you are interested in, with so much excitement and enthusiasm. How you are always willing to teach me something new while we’re working together. How kind you always are with your brothers…and with me.” Your words hit Tech like a gust of warm summer wind on Kashyyyk.

“If that isn’t a clear enough confession then here it is, plain and simple: I like you so very much, Tech.” You finally say, after all these weeks of mulling over how fast and hard you had fallen for him. It was out in the open, the ball was in his court now, and your heart laid bare for him to see. You knew he could see the blush that had spread over your face and this made you drop your eyes to your hands that were now planted firmly just above your knees.

Tech’s eyes slowly drifted over your features, as if to be sure you meant what you had just said. He pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose.

“I rarely find myself at a loss for words, this time being one of few that I am able to remember.” Tech said slowly. While he had his suspicions, Tech was now fully faced with the pleasant realization that his own pining after you was mutual. It shocked him a bit at how quickly he had fallen for you and the circumstances surrounding your confession of affection was almost overwhelming him.

Looking up at him now in slight surprise, his admission pulled a soft giggle, a sound like music to his ears, from you which gave Tech the push he needed to finally close the gap between you.

Knees now touching, his thumb and forefinger placed just so on and under your chin, Tech tipped your face up ever so slightly so that your lips pressed gently to his. Warmth blossomed in your chest at his touch and kiss. You could hardly believe this moment was real. His mouth moved slowly, almost reverently, against your own. You brought your hands to rest on his chest plate, the feel of the smooth plastoid grounding you in this moment. You committed every sensation to memory. This was a moment you knew you’d never forget.

Tech finally, after what felt like a blissful eternity, pulled away slowly but not fully breaking contact with you, leaving his knees still touching yours.

“I believe my feelings for you to be mutual.” He said in a hushed tone, knowing Hunter could most likely feel the bubbling energy radiating from the two of you from the furthest corner of the Marauder.

You smiled at Tech while bringing your hand to your chest, feeling your heart pound inside your ribs. The silence was comfortable for a moment, just you and him looking at each other with love and admiration and mutual understanding.

After another moment, you finally broke the sweet silence, “Hey, Tech?”

“Yes, mesh’la?” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

This Mando’a word you did know. It meant ‘beautiful’ and his use of it made the butterflies in your stomach soar yet again and a smile form on your lips.

“What kind of sarad do I remind you of?” You asked softly while leaning just a little bit closer into his space.

With your question, Tech lit up into a detailed explanation of a flower he once encountered on a brief shore leave several rotations ago. His voice was so soothing and the kindness in his eyes shown even brighter as he spoke. You knew you would never tire of listening to him or of seeing his eyes shine for the rest of forever.

•••

[indigofyrebird]

Fresh Ink

word count: 1,035

rated G

for the @summer-of-bad-batch prompt "just when were you planning on telling us that?"

The tightly knit batch of brothers sat together over dinner. Wrecker and Hunter and Crosshair and Tech. Wrecker sat on the outside acting as protection from any bullies that might prod at them. Tech was the smallest, large eyes behind even larger goggles. He sat on the inside. Tech was the smallest and Wrecker was the biggest. Biggest in stature with a loud booming voice. Yesterday, one of the reg cadets had tried to steal a bran muffin straight off Crosshair's tray, and Wrecker had stood up, flexing his large biceps, looming over the thief until he backed down. Next to Tech, Crosshair was the smallest. A skinny boy, his legs had begun to grow longer recently, and he was taller than his littlest brother now. Hunter was somewhere in the middle. Hunter, who had started growing his hair out and had somehow gotten away with it, so far. 

They had graduated from Advanced last week and had been given their own ship. Tech had, of course received top marks in flight and had immediately claimed the ship as his own. He would be their pilot, it was his ship. None of his brothers argued with him, happy to let him take charge in that area. 

He had flown it twice now, and the total exhilaration he had felt behind the controls had been unmatched. After flying it for the first time, Hunter had had to order him to bed. He was so excited after that he had paced their small barracks, string of words going a mile a minute. Even after lying in bed, he stared wide eyed at the bunk above him. His heart felt like it was going to come out of his chest with the excitement of it. 

"Tech." Hunter said from the top bunk. "I can hear you thinking. Go. To. Sleep." 

"I am sorry, Hunter, but I cannot shut off my brain that easily. I want to fly it again. It was amazing, wasn't it? Did you see how it responded to the slightest pull? She is a beautiful ship. Don't you think? I have chosen a name for her. The Marauder. The Havoc Marauder. She will take us to so many new places. She will broaden our world." 

Hunter sighed. "It is a nice ship."

"Hunter, nice does not even begin to describe it. She is a modified Omicron class attack shuttle. The finest I have ever flown. Well, the only one I have ever flown...but most definitely the finest."

"Goodnight, Tech."

"Goodnight, Hunter." When Tech finally fell asleep, he dreamed of flying. 

****

Their very first mission had been a success. Tech had expertly piloted their escape, his skills already becoming fine-tuned. After a scheduled medical examination, he had taken a detour before dinner. His brothers didn't question him, but they had all noticed his delay. 

Crosshair watched him closely the rest of the night, attempting to figure out what he had been up to. 

Dinner had been the same. Same food, same bullies. Tonight, one of their main antagonists had grabbed for Tech's goggles. The regs all knew about their recent acquisition and were obviously jealous. "Heard you got your own ship, Four Eyes." He pulled the strap holding his goggles in place, snapping it against Tech's head while they stood in line for food. Crosshair stepped in front of Tech with a snarl, his lips open, showing teeth. Hunter attempted to lower his voice to a raspy gravel. "Kriff off." Wrecker was the deciding vote, his size and intense stare causing the smaller cadet to back down. 

"Whatever. No one cares about your stupid ship anyway." 

Tech rubbed the back of his head where the strap had stung. 

After dinner, he lounged quietly in his bunk. He caught Crosshair's eyes on him several times, and he pretended to ignore him, scrolling through his datapad. When it was time for bed, he changed in the 'fresher instead of in their barracks as they usually did. Crosshair noticed right away and cornered him. "What is going on? I know you're hiding something." Hunter and Wrecker turned to watch. 

"It's nothing, leave me alone, Cross." Tech folded his arms over his chest. 

"No." Their sniper said. "Come on, give it up, Tech. You can tell us."

"Yeah, you can tell us!" Wrecker joined in. 

Hunter stood. He was torn between curiosity and defending his littlest brother. Curiosity won. "Ok, Tech, what's up? That's an order." He used his Sergeant voice. 

Tech looked up at his brothers, his expression behind his large goggles distressed. He set down his datapad and lifted his top slowly. "I just love her so much..." he trailed off. 

His brothers stared at his bare chest. On his left pectoral muscle, above his heart was inked the words H A V I C  M A R A D E R. His skin around the fresh tattoo was red. 

"Just when were you planning on telling us? Hmm?" Crosshair asked.

"That..that's not how you spell..." Hunter's mouth fell open. 

"I KNOW!" Tech shouted, pulling his top back down quickly. He threw himself onto his bunk, face burrowing into his pillow. 

Wrecker wanted to sit by him but Hunter tapped his shoulder, nodding his head in the opposite direction. "Let's give him a minute," he said. 

****

Weeks had passed, and one day, Crosshair brought back a small kit from another successful mission. Opening it on the work bench, he began taking the tools out, laying them beside the case. His brothers crowded around to see what it was. Crosshair picked up what looked like a miniature blaster. "It's a tattoo gun," he said. It came with one color ink: black. 

"So I can fix that" he indicated Tech's chest. 

When he was finished, the tattoo looked good. He had been able to fix the spelling and had added a little outline of a heart at the end of the words. 

Tech admired it in the mirror. "Thank you, Crosshair. It looks very good." 

Hunter cleared his throat. "How much ink is in that thing?" He ran his fingers over the left side of his face. "I was thinking maybe you could do one on me..."

For the @summer-of-bad-batch prompt "just when were you planning on telling us that?"

I'm sorry for the weird font. I copy/pasted from ao3 and this is how it comes out. I am not skilled enough to fix it without screwing it up!

[dixieconley]

What if Palpatine's habit of using the chip to make Fox his personal assassin had consequences?

Triage: Fox, you need more sleep or it's going to have serious consequences to your health. Fox: I'll sleep when I'm dead. Triage: … Triage: You mean that literally, don't you? Thorn: ::chiming in helpfully:: He does sleep-- Fox: Thank you, Thorn. Thorn: --he sleeps standing up during Senate shifts all the time.  And at his desk.  He's been making folding art out of his flimsiwork again.  Look!  An Omicron class attack shuttle!  And a rotary cannon! Fox: Give me those.  I still need to file them. Thorn: ::clutches the rotary cannon to his chest:: No! My precious!! Triage: … Triage: That's it.  I'm sedating you for the next eight hours and you *will* sleep. Fox: … Triage: If you ever want another cup of caf again, you'll cooperate. Fox: …fine.

And so Fox gets sedated so he can get some real rest.  But what none of them know is that Fox is *used* to carrying out blackout missions while his conscious mind is suppressed.  Overuse of the chip has left him highly suggestible in this state.  And sedation?  Is an awful lot like being put under by the chip.

Triage: ::surveying a sleeping Fox:: Finally. Thorn: Hey, this is a good thing, right? Triage:  ::darkly::  Kill the chancellor for me please. Thorn: Is he a traitor?  Please tell me he's a traitor.  We get to kill traitors. Triage: …yes.  He's somehow managed to violate even the low standards for health and safety that we had on Kamino.  So do kill him, please. Thorn: ::laughing:: I wish.

And they think they're joking, but Fox is Right.  There.  And he's heard everything even if only subconsciously.

So… four hours later.

Triage: Where's Fox?  I'm going to kill him.  He's escaped from Medbay.  Again. Thorn: Where do you think? Triage: …at his desk? Thorn: ::nods:: Making a lightsaber out of flimsi. Triage: ::sighs:: Keep him there.  I'll be right up. Thorn: Will do.  Thorn out.  ::to Fox::  Can you make one of the Chancellor next?  I want to blow it up. Fox: ::nods, keeps folding:: Thire: ::bursts into office:: Fox!  Thorn!  The chancellor's dead!  He was killed in his sleep!  And the guard on duty said the last person to leave was the commander! Thorn: Couldn't have been Fox.  He was under sedation in Medbay and he's still asleep right now. Thire: But he's at his desk? Thorn: He does that.  Fox sleepwalks-- ::both stare at Fox in dawning comprehension:: Thorn: … Thire: You don't suppose he got footage, do you?

Much later, after a long nap:

Fox: I couldn't have killed him.  I'm a professional.  If I'd killed him, I wouldn't have left a body behind. Thorn: Maybe don't use that argument at your trial? Fox: Meh.  The Chancellor's dead.  Nothing can top this. Fox: Other than kriffing *remembering* it.

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 📍 (you are here!) | part +1

click here to read on AO3

》 part 4.5.2 word count: ~1.9k

》 part 4.5.2 warnings: none

》 part 4.5.2 spoilers: bad batch citadel episode

》 a/n: so sorry i disappeared! college took over my life like a storm but the semester is over now which means back to posting! i hope you all enjoyed the last season of our favs... it was such a bittersweet ending and i'm going to miss watching the show. :(( but in other news, here is the original a/n i had of this part of the fic sitting in my drafts: i lied, 4.5.2 is a longer part than i thought it would originally be LOL but enjoy!!! also, instead of fives dying, i had him disappear off the face of the galaxy. he tells anakin and rex about the chips, but he’s able to get out of that warehouse place alive because i truly despise the fact that echo is the only one left of domino squad… it makes me sad ksdfhgksdf

४.५.१ (4.5.2)

Your personal commlink crackles to life. A staticky voice comes through as you struggle to hear the message. You swiftly link it to your monitor, boosting the long-range signal the best you can.

“–stro? It’s Rex. Can you hear me? We… –und him. Come to dock...–bay six at 1600.”

The channel closes, and the static disappears into silence. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you glance at your chronometer. 0900, it reads.

After Fives disappeared, you became especially close with Rex, often accompanying him on missions where your skills as an engineer were needed. Times were getting rough and the GAR needed all the help they could get out in the field. You were first to volunteer.

For the rest of the day, you’re distracted. Even Arjun, one of the newest engineers on your team as a replacement for Prauf and Sonia, notices it. Dropping tools, tripping over supplies, forgetting your train of thought. You’re just so baffled. Rex has never done this before. And what in the galaxy could he possibly need you for right after a mission?

You’re at the hanger ten minutes early, the anxiety of just wanting to know eating away at your sanity. You tap your foot incessantly when you stand still and pace frequently from one side of the bay to another when you’re in motion, still attempting to decipher Rex’s cryptic message.

And finally (right on time, you vaguely register), two ships dock and disembark. One of them you don’t recognize as being a standard GAR ship–rather, it’s an Omicron-class attack shuttle. Is that what Rex wanted you here for? Some starship? A flash of irritation crosses through your mind as you strain to see the people getting off.

You recognize the Generals facing away from you: Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Windu. But they’re blocking your view of anyone else. You drop your gaze and see Rex’s legs in their classic blue armor as well as someone standing next to him, but you can’t tell who.

The Jedi turn to walk away and finally you can see who they were talking to. You make your way to them quickly. You don’t recognize any of the men but Rex, making you even more confused as to why he called you here.

“Rex?” you call tentatively and he turns around from his conversation to acknowledge you.

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight. The cybernetic legs instead of skin and bone, the scomp link as a replacement for a right hand, the red skull on his armor, the implants dotting his head, his face tired and haggard. His face is exactly like the clones you see everyday, but something about the recognition that lights up in his sunken eyes tells you that it’s still him.

“It’s you,” you whisper in shock, staring blatantly at the man you fell in love with during the midst of a galactic war. The man who found you, the man you lost.

The man you couldn’t save.

Echo gapes at you in surprise, clearly not expecting you to have turned up. He glances behind you at Rex in question before meeting your eyes, seemingly finding his answer.

“Hi, Astro,” he murmurs, voice deep and unused as if he just awoke from a restful night of sleep. For a moment, everything is at a standstill. No one dares to even say a word as you stand in front of each other, unsaid conversations hanging in the air. The wind breezes across your face, a gentle caress as if to say it’s okay. He’s real.

“Echo,” you breathe and throw your arms around him tightly, the shellshocked tears finally streaming down your face. You don’t give a damn about who’s watching, too wrapped in the fact that he’s home, Echo’s home, with me, in my arms.

I will never let you go again.

Echo curls his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, burying his face into your neck as he mumbles your name in what sounds like relief. You hear a choking sob, but whether it’s ripped out of you or out of Echo, you don't care.

“I’m back, I’m here. I’m here,” Echo chants it religiously, pressing his quiet promises into your searing skin and engraving it within. Whether he’s reassuring you or himself, you can’t tell. The plastoid armor cuts uncomfortably into your arms as you hug him, but the pain grounds you from cloud nine.

When Echo died, you and Fives became inseparable, always accompanying each other in quiet support. Both of you were your closest connection to Echo. And then when Fives disappeared, you felt like you lost your fragile tether completely, just floating along like broken space debris. No purpose, no happiness. Just existing within a vacuum void with no life, no resolve, no motivation.

You gently push him away then, taking his gaunt face into your hands to examine him. Your fingers hesitantly touch the implants in his head, and you let out a pained sigh at the slight frown his mouth curves into. Echo’s eyes are sullen, exhausted, but you see his determination as clear as day.

“What have they done to you, Echo?”

He doesn’t respond, instead observing you himself, noticing the darkness under your eyes and your slightly unkempt look, very unlike the prim and proper person he left behind. The brightness in your eyes has dulled, and he sees his own fatigue mirrored in your soul. Echo’s heart aches at the thought.

You take a step back from him, and he loosens his hold on you. You look behind him to see four men–clones, you realize in surprise as you peer closer.

“This is Clone Force 99,” Rex introduces you to them as Echo steps to your right to let you see them fully. “They helped rescue Echo.”

You study each one of them in curiosity as they introduce themselves to you. Clearly, there’s something different about them–you can see it in the way they carry themselves. You shake each one of their hands, reiterating your gratitude again and again.

“Thank you, all of you. I wish I could repay you in some way for rescuing him. You really don’t know how much this means to me,” you say, genuine appreciation coloring your voice. Hunter gives you a knowing smile.

“Anytime! Busting those clankers up is our speciality,” he grins and you can’t help but laugh at his happy demeanor. It kind of reminded you of Fives. A shadow of sadness passes over you, but you push it away quickly.

“Actually, there is something you may be able to do for us,” Tech pipes up. Your eyebrows raise and you gesture for him to continue, noticing Crosshair’s smirk that he makes no effort in suppressing. You weren’t exactly expecting a request at this very moment, but you don’t mind fulfilling it. It’s the least I can do. You hear Rex and Echo quietly laugh behind you.

“You’re an engineer, yes?” Tech inquires, adjusting his goggles to study you. You nod in affirmation.

“Good. I am in need of your services. We seem to be having a slight problem with the suspension support system…” he moves towards the Omicron-class attack shuttle and you follow in his footsteps, leaving the rest of Clone Force 99 and Echo and Rex slightly behind to talk amongst themselves.

You examine the blueprints on the datapad he hands you as he talks at what feels like breakneck speed. “When I pilot the Marauder–” ah, so that’s what it’s called. “–the steering feels quite sluggish and is difficult to handle when we’re in the midst of battle. I deduced it’s due to the suspension, but I can’t seem to pinpoint the exact location nor the nature of the problem even after looking over these schematics for a few hours.”

You hum in response as you scan the diagnostics before finding the issue easily in a matter of a few moments.

“Ah! Don’t worry Tech, this is a very simple fix. You need to realign the thrusters and make sure they’re properly connected to the steering shaft. I suggest taking a look at the control arms too–the thruster hinges that connect to the frame look like they’ve been through a lot, so maybe consider replacing them? I think I’ve got a couple of spare ones in my shop if you want,” you advise, handing the datapad back to him. Tech stares at you, mouth agape as he absentmindedly accepts the datapad.

You simply smile and turn around to see everyone else losing it after watching the exchange. Even Crosshair has cracked a smile, something clearly rare based on his aloof attitude. Puzzled, you ask, “What’s so funny?”

Hunter, bless him, takes mercy on you and explains dutifully. “Tech has been trying to fix that for at least two hours and you figured out the problem in thirty seconds. No one has ever been able to beat Tech at something he knows practically everything about.”

You huff out a light laugh of surprise. “Well, it is my job to fix and repair starships. It would be pretty bad if I wasn’t able to diagnose issues as soon as I got them,” you point out. Hunter nods in agreement as the laughter slowly begins to die down.

“So, I’m assuming you all are getting medals, right? I mean you’ve clearly pulled off an amazing and incredibly difficult mission,” you ask, glancing from one clone to the next, your gaze landing on Echo.

“Not… really our thing,” Tech shrugs.

“Accolades,” Crosshair concurs, mouth moving around the toothpick that seems to be permanently present.

"Yeah, we're just in it for the thrill. Yo!" Wrecker grins, pumping his fist into the air.

Hunter turns to Echo. "You sure it's… your thing?"

You steal a glance at Echo as the confusion dances across his face. "What do you mean?"

"Your path is different," Hunter elaborates before letting out a chuckle. "Like ours."

You can practically see the gears turning in Echo's head as he processes Hunter's underlying message. You stay silent.

"If you ever feel like you don't fit in with them, well… find us.” Hunter inclines his head to the team, and Tech, Crosshair, and Wrecker give you all a nod of goodbye. And with that, you watch Clone Force 99 retire back to their ship, leaving you, Echo, and Rex behind to watch.

“Those are some of the finest troopers I’ve ever fought alongside,” Rex states. He pauses for a moment before placing his hand on Echo’s shoulder, shaking him out of his train of thought.

“Echo.”

He turns to look at him.

“You and I go way back. If that’s where you feel your place is… then that’s where you belong,” Rex asserts, eyes roaming Echo’s conflicted face. You can’t fight the sad smile that appears on your lips. Even through all the pain he’s gone through, Rex always puts his friends–his brothers–first.

Rex rotates slightly to face you. “And if you would like to accompany him, Astro… I can make it happen.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, not believing your ears. Is he serious? You and Echo glance at each other then, an instantaneous unspoken agreement settling into the space between you. Rex pats both of your shoulders and departs.

You and Echo follow Clone Force 99’s path, each step of yours carrying you closer and closer to the unknown. You’re about to leave behind everything.

Your right hand brushes against Echo’s left one.

Well, not quite everything.

And when you all turn around to see Rex one last time and salute to him, you know that no matter what, it will be okay because Echo’s beside you. Right where he should be.

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 📍 (you are here!) | part +1

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