#angsty crosshair

[221bshrlocked]

Broken and Grazed, Loved and Saved

Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 4724

Warnings: Mutual Pining. Mentions of violence and blood. Touching Confessions! Angst to fluff because you know it. Crosshair being a tiny bit soft...just a tiny bit.

Summary: You get shot while trying to save Crosshair. He's shocked and confused as to why you would do such a thing. You both slowly reveal your feelings for each other as he patches you up.

A/N: I crawled back from my writer's block hell hole to post this. This is during The Clone Wars series folks, hence the Jedi insert. Once again, thank you so much to @cloneficgiftexchange for holding this event and single-handedly getting me to write every once in a while. This is for the lovely @arctrooper69 who inadvertently gave me a challenge with Crosshair. I hope you enjoy it babes and I hope I got his character down correctly. This is the first time I write for him. As always, let me know how I am doing in the comments please and thank you.

When Obi-Wan informed you that you’d be accompanying Clone Force 99 on another mission, you tried your best to not let your excitement come through. But one look at your old friend and the smirk on his face made you realize you may not have been as subtle as you originally thought. 

“Shut it Kenobi,” you walk past him, shaking your head when you briefly glanced to the side and saw him raising an eyebrow at you. He chuckles at your embarrassment, and you’re torn between making fun of him and letting him be. It was rare to see him display such an elated emotion, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him when finally caught up with you and patted you on the back. 

“In all seriousness, do be careful out there.” A worried expression breaks through the smile and you nod at him, knowing that the sentiment wasn’t one of warning but deep concern for your safety. 

“As weird as it is to admit this, I feel like I might potentially be safest with them.” You come to a stop once you reach the door of the Temple, looking around the awfully quiet space before returning your attention to Obi-Wan once more. 

“I would have to disagree with you there. The rate at which they use explosives is severely higher than any other force I have fought alongside. Nevertheless, I trust your judgment. Do keep me updated, yes?” When you don’t respond right away, Obi-Wan follows your line of sight and notices where your attention suddenly lies. He groans to himself and wishes he wasn’t the keeper of so many secrets. 

“Young one!?” You snap out of your momentary haze when Obi-Wan quite literally yells at you, his voice carrying across the grounds and catching the curiosity of none other than the man you found yourself barely able to stop thinking of. 

“Sorry, yes?” You feign ignorance, giggling like a young padawan when Obi-Wan rubs his temples and swears beneath his breath.

“I’m only joking. Yes I will be careful, sure I’ll try my best not to get into trouble, and of course I won’t partake in Wrecker’s booming tactics. Satisfied?” You don’t wait for him to respond, already walking towards the Marauder and praying to the Force that the introvert of the group is less hostile towards you this time around. When you grow near to the clones standing at the foot of the ramp, you turn around one last time and wave goodbye to Obi-Wan, laughing when he rolls his eyes at you and heads back into the Temple. As soon as you turn around, you’re met with an incredibly energetic Wrecker, your shock turning into hysterical laughter as soon as he wraps his arms around you and picks you up. 

“Heyyy, it’s our favorite Jedi!” His grip on you remains gentle even though he’s lifted you off of the ground a good bit. 

“Hey Wrecker, I see you missed me as much as I missed you.” You gently tap him on his shoulder, hoping he’d put you down before any other Jedi sees how familiar you are with him. 

“Wreck, put the General down.” You glance to the side and see Hunter standing with his hands on his hips, his facial expression a bit unreadable. You laugh nervously at the leader of the Bad Batch, hoping Wrecker wouldn’t get in trouble because of your friendliness. 

To his chagrin, Wrecker puts you down and backs away, whispering a few apologies before returning to stand next to Tech.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t encourage it.” You tell Hunter as the two of you walk away from the rest of the Batch, your eyes unintentionally remaining on your favorite member of the group. If Hunter notices how you pay more attention to Crosshair, he says nothing of it and pretends you weren’t watching him like a hawk. 

“No need for any apologies, General. I don’t particularly care but I know how things are on Coruscant. Wouldn’t want him to be misunderstood.” Hunter points towards the Clones standing around the Temple with other Jedi Masters, smiling nervously at you when you sigh anxiously at the prospect of being the reason behind Wrecker potentially getting in trouble. 

“I promise to talk to him. And I’ll make sure to only be friendly when we’re not surrounded by…you know.” You try to laugh off the circumstances you find yourself in, only for Hunter’s body language to shift at the implications behind your words. 

“I’d be careful if I were you. Even if they aren’t around, others tend to misunderstand and- well, let’s just say that things get a little heated when we finish a mission and you aren’t on-board anymore.” You furrow your eyebrows at Hunter’s response, only to follow his line of sight and see who he’s staring at. When you’re met with Crosshair’s narrowed, irritated eyes shifting between you and Wrecker, you realize that Hunter may know more than he let on. 

“I- I don’t think you-” You trip over your words, unsure of how to respond now that Hunter knew of your inclinations as well. 

“Save it, I’m not judging…just giving you a heads up.” He excuses himself, saying something or other to Tech as the two of them ascend the Marauder. You look to the ground as you make your way to the ship, afraid of making eye contact with any of the others out of fear of making things more awkward. Even as you walk past Crosshair, you ignore him completely, pretending to fix the lightsaber hanging from your belt so you don’t have to deal with him now. As soon as you go to the cockpit, you throw a quick hello to Echo and walk back, pushing through the supplies scattered around so you can sit in the small space at the end of the ship. 

Even though you want to sit near Crosshair, you decide against it, knowing that you don’t have the capacity to deal with his passive aggressive comments now. You haven’t seen him in a long while, and there’s nothing you wish to do more than be near him, even if the two of you were to remain silent. But if the conversation with Hunter proved anything, it’s the fact that Crosshair was begging to pick a fight right now. You just didn’t want it to be with you. 

Taking a deep breath, you do your best to center yourself and ignore the whispers and murmurs traveling from the cockpit. You manage a fair job for most of the flight, but the closer you get to the Outer Rim planet, you vaguely hear your name thrown around between Hunter, Tech and Wrecker. You know better than to listen to what they’re saying, and before you can decide on whether or not you should ignore them, Wrecker stands up and grumbles something louder than the others would have preferred. 

“She doesn’t mind! You’re just telling me what to do because Crosshair won’t listen to you and talk to her.” Your eyes shoot wide open at his words, and as you turn around to face them, you see all of their expressions turn blank. Wrecker only recognizes just how loud he is when he faces you and sees a quizzical look on your features. He chuckles nervously and sits down as Echo makes his way towards you. 

“Sorry about that, we know how much you like to meditate.” He sits down beside you, glaring quickly at Wrecker so he doesn’t accidentally give anything else away. 

“It’s okay, it’s not like I was getting much meditation done anyway. You guys whisper pretty loudly.” 

“You mean you- could you hear us this whole time?” Echo asks, the direct gaze you offer him letting him know that yes, you could certainly hear what they were going on about this whole time. 

“You know then.” It was more of a comment than a question, but you shrug your shoulders at him regardless, unsure of whether they were telling the truth or just reading into the interactions between you and Crosshair. Before you can respond however, you feel the ship drop out of hyperspace and into the atmosphere of the planet.

“Another time Echo,” you ignore the pleading look on Echo’s face, not wanting to continue this conversation now that the mission officially commenced. Making your way to the front of the ship, you look across the yellow planet below you and sigh in irritation when you notice the storms forming just above the surface. 

“Did you know that Eshil is one of three desert planets that receives frequent rain? Rain storms are often violent here, delivering up to seven millimeters per minute. It is more likely for one to drown down there than to die of thirst.” The ease with which Tech spoke made you giggle, and you couldn’t help but thank him politely for the unsolicited knowledge when you saw Wrecker and Echo glare at him worryingly. 

“Don’t worry big guy, nothing will happen to you on my watch.” You pat Wrecker on the back as you begin your descent onto Eshil, and before you can attempt to calm him down a little, the Marauder begins to shake violently due to the rain and thunderstorms. In a moment of distraction, you lose your balance and fly backward, suddenly feeling a pair of slim fingers grab onto your waist to prevent you from falling. Thinking it’s Hunter who just saved you, you turn around to thank him, only to find a pair of steel, hazel eyes staring dead at you. 

The faint gasp doesn’t go unnoticed by Crosshair, nor does the disappointed look you throw at him when he lets go so he can push you into one of the seats. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Jedi.” His tone is mocking in a way, but you don’t dwell too much on it and instead look around to see if anyone noticed the little interaction. Everyone is blissfully unaware of the tense moment you shared with Crosshair, and even though you can feel his eyes on you, you choose to avoid his gaze, afraid he would see how much of an effect he has on you. 

It takes too long to your liking to land, not because you didn’t like the turbulence, but because you couldn’t stand being in close proximity with Crosshair any longer. An hour ago, you were excited to join the team, wanting nothing more than to try and get closer to Crosshair, or at the very least, figure out why he’s always more passive aggressive with you than with anyone else. But after the not-so-subtle comment from Hunter, and the rather awkward conversation you overheard, you couldn’t finish this mission and be back on Coruscant fast enough. Somehow, knowing that the animosity was a product of mutual feelings made things worse.

No, not worse. That wasn’t the right word. 

Real. It made things real. It made things more accessible, which meant that the probability of anything happening was simultaneously high and low. 

“We’re here,” Hunter’s announcement is a welcomed distraction, and you wait until everyone stands aside to review the plan before jumping out of the Marauder. The rain comes down harsher than you’ve anticipated but you take a few seconds to appreciate it regardless, knowing that it wasn’t everyday you experienced rain caused by clean, natural clouds. It was so much different than Coruscant, strangely soothing as it seeped through your clothes and kissed your cheeks. 

The cool sensation suddenly shifts into a warmer breeze, causing your eye muscles to clench tightly in confusion. The feeling engulfs you almost like a hug, and you’re not sure how or why it becomes hotter with each passing second. It’s only when you open your eyes and glance to the side that you finally understand why you were being flooded with such intensity. You quickly avert your gaze as soon as you notice Crosshair’s embarrassment when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at you. 

“Alright fellas, listen up. Our mission is simple: infiltrate the base undetected, retrieve the classified intel from their innermost vaults, exfiltrate before they even know we’re there. Stay sharp and Wrecker…no explosives unless I say so.” Hunter points firmly at the bigger clone, and you almost giggle when you see the hint of a grin appearing on his face. 

“Awww man!” Wrecker throws his hands up in the air, walking away and crossing his arms when he sees you approaching him. 

“Don’t worry big guy, there’s always a next time.” You pat him on the back, laughing to yourself when he retorts at you like a child.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“But I really mean it this time,” you twist your head down until you can get a better look at him, and when you meet his eyes, you watch as he tries his best to not crack a smile in return. When he does, you walk past him and stay behind Hunter as he slowly moves through the barren land. The closer you get to the compound though, the more you become uneasy at your lack of cover, but before you can say anything, the rain begins to come down harder than you thought it possible, making you squint to try and see where everyone is. 

“I guess that should do the trick!” You hear Echo scream from behind you, but the sentiment makes you uncomfortable. The idea of losing the rest of them before you even make it to the enemy line is disconcerting, and you make your way towards Hunter quickly. When he sees you approaching him, he stops and waits for you to catch up. 

“Follow my lead and make sure everyone keeps their helmets on so they can see.” You throw the hood of your cloak over your head a little further, the action not helping one bit as the water continues to crash down on you like a waterfall. 

“When we get there-” 

“I’ll signal for Echo so he can unlock the doors.” Waiting until he nods in agreement, you continue your journey towards the compound, praying to the maker that the enemy’s visibility is as bad as yours. The trek to the compound takes longer than you like, but when you finally have it in sight, you turn around and wait for the others to reach you. Hunter and Tech are ahead of everyone, and you squint hard until you can see Echo and Wrecker behind them. When Crosshair doesn’t show right away, you begin to worry, afraid that the rain became less of an inconvenience and more of a trigger to him. You’re about to run past the guys when you finally see him walking through the heavy downfall, no longer holding his firearm in his hands and instead taking his time as he walks towards the rest of the team. Even though you can’t see his expression, you know for a fact that Hunter is smirking beneath his mask, and you choose to ignore him as you go back to the front of the Batch and walk closer to the compound.

“There aren’t any guards posted outside. The storm must have sent everyone back inside.” You make a note, signaling for Echo to move ahead of you while the others wait a little farther away in case things don’t go according to plan. Anxiety washes over you all of a sudden, and you glance at the only member of the Batch you know dislikes the rain more than anyone. If Crosshair notices the way you’re staring at him worryingly, he says nothing and keeps his attention on your surroundings, ready to fire at anyone who comes in the way. 

When Echo unlocks the door, Tech follows after and heads straight towards the secured vaults at the heart of the compound. It’s quieter than you expect, but you figure it’s only because the storm continues to rage outside and grow louder by the second. As you move towards the vault however, you find the silence nearly deafening, and you wonder briefly if this entire mission could be a set-up. Before you can voice your concerns to Hunter, Tech gains access to the room with ease, already getting to work for the intel with Echo. You stand guard outside while Hunter and Wrecker scout the hallways and ensure you don’t have any visitors. 

Using the distraction to your advantage, you slowly make your way to Crosshair and stand beside him, waiting until he acknowledges your presence with a glance before attempting to break the awkward air around the two of you. 

“I hope the rain isn’t too much of a bother.” You’re not sure what else to say, and as you realize he won’t be responding any time soon, you figure it’s best to not try and fix whatever it is between the two of you now. Knowing that it will be even more uncomfortable if you walk away from him, you remain standing where you are, turning your attention to Tech and Echo to see if they’re almost done. 

The abrupt sound of guns firing pushes you forward immediately, and you watch as several weapons descend from the ceiling and the walls, instantly firing at everyone in the room. You make your way to the nearest wall and burn through the small firearms with your lightsaber, watching as Crosshair hits several more on the opposite side of the wall while Tech and Echo extract the intel. 

“I knew it was too quiet.” You mutter to yourself, running as fast as you can across the space to get as many of the little suckers as possible. When there aren’t any left, you sheath your weapon again and move towards the door. 

“Time to head out,” Hunter screams across the hallway and as you file out, you sense movement at one of the corners of the room. It’s instinctive the way you run towards Crosshair and shield him with your body, and your curse at yourself for not ensuring that all of them were taken down. Anger seeps through your mind at what could have been a fatal mistake and you ignite your saber instantly, propelling it towards the small object and bringing it back into the palm of your hand as more smoke fills the room. 

“We need to leave, now.” Your voice is stern, and even though you can see Crosshair staring at where you’ve just been shot, you don’t pay him any mind as you run through the winding hallways and make your way out of the compound. It’s somehow raining even harder than earlier, and you feel your body grow more faint with each step you take. The faster you try to run, the more unbearable the pain becomes, and it occurs to you that you would be no good to any of them if you slowed them down. 

You come to a stop and haunch over, applying pressure against your stomach and wincing in pain when more blood oozes through your fingers. Thinking that they’re all ahead of you, you kneel down and allow the rain to become less of an inconvenience and more of a calming presence. 

“What are you doing?” Crosshair hisses as he comes up behind you, and when you lock contact with his eyes, you regret not pushing yourself harder. 

“I’m fine…go!” You hope your voice isn’t as wavering to his ears as it is to your own, and when he shakes his head, you attempt to stand to confront him, only to fall back to the ground again. 

“Tech, bring the ship to my position.” You cruse yet again as Crosshair pushes a button on the side of his helmet while speaking to Tech. 

“Why have you stopped?” You can hear Hunter ask through the comms, and you look at Crosshair again, silently begging him to leave so he doesn’t get hurt. 

“The General’s been compromised.” He leans down and pushes your hands aside to inspect the wound, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was angry at you for getting shot…for saving him. 

“You need to go to the Marauder. That’s an order.” You hiss in pain when you feel him bring your hand back to your stomach and push on it harder than before. 

“You’re currently bleeding all over the floor. You’re in no shape to give me orders…General.” He’s pushing your buttons, but unlike before, when he smirked at every snarky comment he threw your way and chuckled when you retorted in likeness, his voice is laced with unspoken feelings now, as if he was silently thanking you for what you did for him. 

Before you can dwell too much on the change in his behavior, the Marauder lands right beside you, allowing you a moment of respite before Wrecker comes down the ramp and takes you in his arms. The jolting movements make you cough as your stomach throbs in pain, and you take one last look at Crosshair, finding his expression as irritated as when you were on your way here. 

To his credit, Wrecker does try to be more slow and soft with his movements, but when he lays you down, you can’t help but scream in agony at the wound tearing through your skin. 

“S-sorry.” You shake your head at Wrecker and assure him with a smile, only to drop it when Tech comes with a medkit and asks his brother to give you some privacy. 

“I do apologize General but I must cut your robe to administer the bacta spray and patches properly.” Ever the gentleman, Tech waits for your consent before taking out a pair of scissors. He’s about to cut through your robes when Crosshair walks in and stands behind him.

“If you can wait out-”

“I’ll do it.” Crosshair doesn’t give Tech a chance to finish his request, and when he stands up to argue with him, you reach for Tech’s hand and nod at him, waiting until he places everything down before moving towards the front of the ship. 

You’re sure Crosshair didn’t think this far ahead because he remains standing and doesn’t once turn his sight away from your wound. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You break the silence and push your head back as the wound continues to burn. It must be all Crosshair needs to hear because he gets right to business, not once saying anything to you as he rips through your robes and begins to disinfect the flesh around the gash. You hiss and instantly slam your hand against his thigh, digging your nails into the plastoid covering him as he sterilizes the laceration to prevent any infection. 

“What were you thinking?” It’s the first time he’s ever spoken to you so softly, and you figure it’s because you’re hurt and can’t respond in likeness. But when you open your eyes and look at him, you’re shocked to find worry and fear swimming in his hazel brown orbs. It throws you off a little, and you shake the thoughts aside, knowing that you may just be reading too much into his behavior.

“At the time, I thought it was a great idea!” You chuckle only to curse out loud when he begins to apply the bacta spray on top of the wound. You think he’ll smile at catching you off guard, but when you look at him again, he’s as somber as a few seconds ago.

“And now?” Crosshair growls at you, actually growls, the sound coming as a shock to you. It occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, he was attempting to show you that he cares, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. When he stops what he’s doing and continues to keep his gaze on you, you lay your head back down and allow the subsiding pain to calm you a little. 

“Maybe…maybe not so much.” He narrows his eyes at you then, the expression becoming a little too intense for you and making you turn away to face the wall. Not another word is exchanged between you and him, and as he finally places the bacta patches on your stomach, you turn to face him again, no longer able to keep playing whatever game he started. 

“Thank you, for not leaving…for staying with me.” Crosshair continues to remain silent, his focus completely on the wound he was dressing. 

“And thank you for patching me up.” Again, he doesn’t acknowledge any of your words, waiting until he’s sure the wound is perfectly protected before throwing everything back into the medkit. You think he’s about to leave but when he finally looks up, you notice his eyebrows relax as he lets out a deep breath. 

“Why would you do that?”

The question catches you off guard, and you figure you may as well tell him how you feel because you’re not sure what will happen tomorrow. 

“You know why.” The simple whisper holds a thousand confessions, and Crosshair clenches his jaw tightly as he reaches for your hand. You gasp at the warmth of his skin, and swallow the lump in your throat when he grabs a wet towel and begins to clean the dried blood. You’re not sure how long you hold your breath, but when he’s done, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he does the opposite, bringing both of his rough palms around your own and keeping it as close to him as possible. 

“I- I’m not worth your-” The sentiment breaks your heart and you furrow your eyebrows at him as you attempt to sit up, not wanting him to finish whatever he was about to say. The stinging returns a thousandfold but you ignore the shooting pain and pull Crosshair towards you.

“Don’t ever say that.” You want to say more. You want to tell him that you’d gladly do it again to ensure his safety, that you wouldn’t give it a second thought because you care for him more than you’re allowed, more than he’ll ever know. But the way he looks at you makes it difficult to say anything else, and you lay back down again when your muscles beg you for some respite. Crosshair doesn’t let go of your hand. If anything, his hold on you tightens as he moves to sit closer to you. 

“It was annoying.” Whatever you thought he was going to say is certainly not those three words, and the confusion etched on your face makes him crack a smile before finally looking from your hand to you. 

“The rain.” You look at him for what feels like hours before you finally register what he was trying to tell you. 

“Wow, it took me getting shot at for you to finally answer my question…an hour later?” The joke doesn’t sit too well with him and you apologize quickly, afraid he’d get up and leave you all alone. 

“I- I didn’t think you’d…” The words die in his throat, and you look down at where your hands are intertwined, wanting to give him some privacy as he comes to terms with what he was feeling, what he was oversharing with you. 

“Remember?” You finish for him, smiling when he nods quietly and begins to trace the lines across the back of your hand.

“I remember everything you tell me, Crosshair.” Once again, the simple response is laced with too many revelations to your liking, but you know you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t use this moment to show him how much you care. 

How much you love him.

He looks at you then, about to say something when he sees your face twist at the returning stinging sensations. 

“You need to rest.” His voice is firm, making you wish you weren’t hurt and could actually make whatever this is last longer. 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Before, you would have been annoyed with yourself for being so vulnerable in front of him, but the question must be the one thing he needed to hear because he smiles softly at you before nodding in silence, bringing his chair a little closer to you can rest your arm better as you keep holding his hands.

“Sleep, cyare. I’ll protect you.”

[fanfoolishness]

the waves flowing, the dawn blooming

Hunter and Crosshair have a heart-to-heart, after their girl takes wing. Set directly after the epilogue, stuffed full of soft Dad Batch feels, lots of healing, and Hunter and Crosshair being close again <3. I cried all through the back half, sorry not sorry. ~1900 words.

-

Beach-crickets shivered the last of their evening songs as Hunter and Batcher wended their way back to Lower Pabu.  The house wasn’t far from the cove, and a brisk walk would have done it in ten minutes, but they took their time.  Batcher was eager to follow her favorite smells along the beach, and Hunter waited patiently for her.  His back and knees had warmed up with the walk, but there was plenty to think about.

Their kid was gone.

He didn’t know what to call this feeling in his chest: a deep and full-bodied sorrow, mingled with the fierce pride he always felt every time he looked at Omega, tangled with joy and worry and the longing for more time.  He grappled with it as they followed the familiar path back to their little home, as the stars shimmered among the slowly lightening sky.  

Batcher whuffed softly as they approached the gate.  Light from the kitchen glowed gently through the side window, and Hunter smiled, catching a faint scent of caf.  Batcher scampered up to the door, morning stiffness long forgotten, and trotted inside as it opened.  Hunter followed, slipping off his boots and heading to the kitchen.

“I wondered when you’d be back,” said Crosshair, raising his eyebrows at Hunter.  He sat at the kitchen table with a pitcher of caf and two mugs.  One steamed merrily before him, and he cradled it in his left hand to take a sip.  He never wore his prosthetic first thing in the morning.

“Well… she’s off.”  Hunter drew up a chair and sat down at the table.

A small smile creased Crosshair’s face.  “You caught her?”

“You knew?” he asked.  “Ahhh, of course you did.”  He waved an annoyed hand at his little brother.

“Said her goodbyes to Wrecker and me last night.  Swore us to secrecy.”  Crosshair shrugged, taking a sip of his caf.  “I can’t say no to her.  Never could.”

Hunter chuckled.  He remembered a time, long ago, that that hadn’t been the case; it felt like another lifetime.  “She let me catch her.  She acted like I’d found her out, but she could have hidden her tracks if she’d wanted.”  He sighed.  “I know I was hard on her.”

”You’ve always protected her.  She knows that’s all it was.  Though she did complain about it.”  Crosshair smirked, wearing the same punchable little half-grin he’d perfected in their brief cadet years.  “‘Doesn’t he know I’m not a kid anymore?’”

Hunter groaned, rubbing his face.  He reached for the pot of caf and poured himself a cup.  “I deserve that.”

”Mm-hm.”

He took a sip of caf.  It was bracing, strong, just how Crosshair always brewed it.  He savored it, letting it swirl over his tongue, so much richer and fuller than the stim drinks they used to have in their rations.  He closed his eyes, lost in thought.

The war had never ended.  It just took on a new name.

This is my fight, Hunter.

Why did she have to have one, when she’d already fought so hard?  Didn’t she deserve the peace they’d won so dearly?

”Are you all right?” Crosshair said in a quiet voice, breaking his reverie.

Hunter blinked, glancing over at his brother.  Crosshair regarded him with that cool, observant gaze, the weight of it familiar and steady.  

It was the same look he used to give him in the Marauder on missions during the Clone Wars; but the face giving it was older, softer.  Crosshair’s narrow cheeks had filled in somewhat with the years, rounding the sharp angles he’d once carried.  His gray hair had grown out and gone fully white, curling gently at his forehead and the nape of his neck, except at the old scar at his temple where it had never regrown.  His short white beard held a hint of the same curl.

You can wear it how you like, you know.  We’re defective.  Nobody cares as long as we complete the mission.

Grow it long like yours?  I don’t think so. These blasted curls are a nightmare.  Give me that trimmer, I don’t know how you stand it.

It’s the headband, obviously.

Sure it isn’t cutting off circulation to your brain?

Hunter stifled a laugh.  They’d been so young.  Things had changed so much since those days, and Crosshair was different now… yet still the same as ever.  

They all were, he supposed.

“Just feeling thoughtful,” Hunter said.  He sighed.  “I don't know where the time went.”

“We’re clones.  We never had very much of it to begin with.”  Crosshair’s eyes softened.  “Tech should have had more.”

Hunter nodded slowly.  “He should have.”

He thought of Tech’s goggles, safely stowed on Omega’s little ship, where she could see them with every pitched turn or hyperspace leap.  It was the right place for them, a testament to all he’d taught her.  His breath caught in his throat.

“She told me this was her fight,” Hunter said.  “But she shouldn’t have to have one.  Not again.”  Tantiss was a victory -- and a cruelty -- that should have been enough for one lifetime.  It tore at him, thinking of her taking on another brutal fight, one with no guarantee of victory.  They hadn’t been blind, these years on Pabu; he knew what she was up against.  He rubbed at his chest, taking a deep breath.

Crosshair poured himself another cup of caf.  “It’s not the galaxy we live in, Hunter.  It never has been.”

”When did you get so wise?”

Crosshair ducked his head in one of his rare guffaws, the laugh echoing sharply in the kitchen.  “That’s not wisdom.  That’s just living.”

”I’m not sure the two aren’t the same.”  Hunter took another drink of his caf, but it had cooled significantly.  How long had he been musing? 

“You’re worried about her.”

”And you aren’t?” Hunter asked skeptically.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow.  “Of course I am.”  He gazed down into his mug, tracing his thumb over the top of the cup.  He rubbed thoughtfully at the side of his face with his stump.  “Of course I am,” he said again.  “But — I trust her, Hunter.  If she has to do this, I have to let her.”  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were bright.  He blinked rapidly.

Hunter reached out, taking him by the shoulder and nodding.  For a moment, it was hard for either of them to speak.

Crosshair cleared his throat, and Hunter let his hand fall.  Crosshair tilted his head towards the back door.  “Maybe you should join us.”

”You and Batcher?” Hunter asked.  He did, sometimes.  When memories of Eriadu, Kamino, Tantiss crept in; when his senses jangled, when it was hard to sleep or think.  It wasn’t often that he needed it, but it did help, he’d had to admit.  And he’d seen the changes meditation had wrought in Crosshair through the years, a calm held deep within, so different from the twisted guilt and painful memories that had once defined him.  

“An open invitation,” said Crosshair.  He swallowed, and Hunter could tell he was thinking of Omega, sunny and centered, always happy to join him when she wasn’t sleeping in or off with friends.  

”All right, then,” Hunter agreed.  “If there’s room on that patio for another old man.”

”Who are you calling old?” Crosshair snarked, getting to his feet with an audible creak.  Now it was Hunter’s turn for a sharp, short laugh.

”Both of us, brother,” Hunter said fondly.

They shuffled out to the back patio, Batcher at Crosshair’s heels.  She curled up in her comfy bed on the patio, knowing the routine.  Crosshair pulled out the stack of pillows piled against the side of the house, tossing two down.  The ground had somehow gotten a lot harder in recent years than it used to be, and the pillows helped.

They settled down beside each other, their folded knees brushing.  The dawn was rising, blushes of faint pink and orange and gold nipping at the edges of the deep inky blue.  The beach-crickets had quieted their songs, only to be replaced by the sweet tittering music of the saltbush sparrows and the sandcatchers and the buzzing starthroats.  

Hunter gazed out at the lightening sky, eyes straining as if to catch the glimmer of a ship’s lights.  But there was nothing out there besides the glow of pre-dawn, no lights making their way home.  Omega was gone, and he knew she’d had to go, knew she had to follow what was right just as she always had, and he hung his head, his breath stuttering.  

What were they going to do without her?  Her laughter echoing through the house with Wrecker’s booming joy, her tinkering with Gonky or parts from her little ship at the kitchen table so like what Tech used to do, her wicked banter and her kind understanding with Crosshair --

The soft, trusting way she’d look up at him, when she was small?

Cut had tried to warn him, once.  Tried to tell him what it meant to love a child, to give everything for them, to do what was best for them even when it was so, so hard.  Hunter had thought he’d be able to figure it out.  Turned out he’d had no idea.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to master his breath, and looked out at the sea.  The dawn was in full bloom now, gold lining the flowers along their patio and glittering in the suncatcher standing at the east boundary.  Hunter relaxed as the light danced around him, reflecting off the mirrors twirling slowly in the morning breeze.  He remembered when Crosshair had shyly shown him what he’d made, his old mirror pucks strung together with shells and colorful stones, shimmering beacons of art instead of cold devices of war.

He glanced at Crosshair out of the corners of his eyes.  His brother sat with his eyes closed, head slightly bowed, his hand and his stump resting atop his knees.  The lines in his face had softened, his expression calm, grounded.  Peaceful.  His breath flowed in Hunter’s ears like waves on the shore, in and out, in… and out.  

Tears pricked his eyes again, and Hunter smiled, nodded, bowed his head, and let his eyes fall closed.

His brother was right.  If she has to do this, I have to let her.  

He knew it, as much as he knew anything.

She knows what to do.  Of course she did; they’d taught her, hadn’t they, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, all of them.  She’d come through floods and fire, destruction and capture and all-out war, and she’d never stopped hoping, never given up, never stopped loving all of them through everything. Part of them would always be with her in the emblems on her jacket, in her treasured Lula-doll, in Tech’s goggles, in Hunter’s old headband.  And after that, she’d have the memories, long after they’d breathed their last and gone to join their brother.  

Tears dampened his face, but he didn’t mind: a small price to pay for a love this fierce and good.  He breathed in, and breathed out, his breath matching Crosshair’s, melding with the sounds of the waves below.

She’d be brave, just like they’d taught her, just like she’d always been.

He hoped the galaxy was ready for her.

[lornaka]

Danger noodle 🐍🧡

[skellymom]

After watching The Bad Batch Season 3 premiere I can only say this:

Cannot help myself!!!🔥❤️💋🔥

[star-farer]

the fall

Summary: Worlds burn and hearts break. AU: Imperial Taglist: @kybercrystals94 @fionas-frenzy @padawancat97 @margindoodles2407 @comfy-vember @dreamsight73

Comfy-vember 2024, Day 6: Weak crying

Tipoca City is a burning island. They watch the smoke rise in heaps and tendrils, curling up to the young blue sky. For once, in a very long time, the rains have given up their ravaging.

“It’s…all gone.”

She’s right. It is gone, every last piece of it. Not even the stilts stick their fraying heads out, lost in fragments somewhere beneath the waves.

Good riddance, spits his mind, bitter and writhing. Kamino deserves its desolation, for all the horrors it has housed. All those years of morbid experimentation and acerbic testing and ruthless training, shadowed by the clinging fear of being terminated for inadequacy.

Crosshair shakes his head once to the side, glowering at the waters' surface.

Let it burn. Let it all burn. Let it sink forgotten to the ocean floor.

But let it burn.

The clone girl who stands closest to dying Kamino, meters away from the platform’s edge, however, sniffles and swipes her sleeve under her nose. Her hair is still lank, curls dripping and unfurled for the most part. He thinks he even sees a tremor run through her, but he isn’t certain if it’s because of the cold or her sorrow.

What was a living hell for him and his brothers described the only home she has ever known. Their dearest instances spent in her company were mostly set against grey rooms and white walls, in that nigh-empty room she bore for a nursery.

A pang thrums against the chambers of his heart as he watches her shoulders slump, her arms winding tight around herself. Hunter takes a step towards her, a hand resting gently on her shoulder.

She turns, and Crosshair catches a glimpse of her heartbreak in the tears that run down her face. Her lips twist in an attempt of a smile, perhaps because Hunter is smiling down at her himself, but it falls short of any semblance of joy.

The arm on her shoulder curls her close into his side, and she falls back willingly against his legs. They watch the fiery remains of the city, red-orange-black flickering as it consumes the grey and glass.

Tech clears his throat softly, making them all — except for Omega — turn to him as one. “We should leave before Imperial scouts show up.”

It’s not so much he sees than feels Wrecker’s eyes on him. He knows the question before it’s spoken.

“Are you coming with us?”

He stiffens, feels the tick of his muscles near his nose with the harsh scowl that slips over his face. How dare he ask such a question? How dare he look at Crosshair with such hope gleaming behind his guarded gaze?

They all turn to him, this time — yet again, Omega does not relinquish her watch on the black plumes billowing portside.

“None of this changes anything,” he snarls.

“You offered us a chance, Crosshair.” Hunter, the bastard, steps up towards him, expression impassive. “This is yours.” And while he keeps to the side, he’s still the closest to Crosshair, still only a nudge away from standing between the sniper and the squad.

As if Crosshair could ever be a threat to them when he is unarmed.

He doesn’t trust you, even without your weapon.

It hurts more than Crosshair wants to care. He wishes he didn’t care, wishes he were as cold-blooded and ice-veined as the Kaminoans intended him.

“I made my decision.”

Perhaps the Kaminoans haven’t failed after all.

There’s a flicker of some emotion in Hunter’s eyes before the walls come slamming down, and Crosshair is too tired to parse out the hidden language of gazes and glares. Hunter presses his lips into a tight line as he considers Crosshair, gaze lingering a parsec too long on the puckered scar along the side of his head.

Hunter sighs at last, and Crosshair wonders how he fits so much into one huff of breath.

“We want different things, Crosshair. That doesn’t mean we have to be enemies.”

And that’s the moment everything clicks into place.

He’s trying for a compromise, trying to reach their middle-ground. Trying to please both sides of the party, to keep the peace.

Any other time and Crosshair would have laughed at how predictably, inherently Hunter it is of him. Yes, the leader, the eldest, the support bending under the weight of his responsibilities.

But at heart, Hunter is a peace-maker and peace-keeper. A man who despises conflicts, unnecessary or not. A man who would rather talk things out than fight, even if the odds were in his favor.

Gold eyes flick momentarily to the despondent and soaking form of their little girl, then return to hold Crosshair’s dark gaze once more. A message sent.

And a message received.

Do it for her sake. If not as brothers, and if not as allies, then a truce where neither is affected. Do it for her sake.

Anger flares within his chest.

As if he has been doing any of this for his own sake. As if any of his decisions haven’t been for her.

Does he see Crosshair as that egotistical? As such a selfish man to disregard his own daughter’s welfare?

Stupid doesn’t begin to cover this living embodiment of insanity that is called Hunter.

With a sharp frown, with narrowed eyes, with folded arms, he turns his head away to where the sun slowly climbs the sky. White-gold and brilliant, like the curls of his little heart.

Tech is the first to turn for the ship. His youngest brother turns his back on Crosshair first.

Echo follows soon after, and it’s hardly a surprise. They are close, dear friends. Of course he follows after Tech.

Wrecker turns away next, the dead med-droid hugged against his side with one arm.

Hunter, he walks over to Omega, places a hand on her head. She peers up at him, brown eyes glassy, and Crosshair sees his shoulders fall with his exhale. He murmurs something, too faint for Crosshair’s un-enhanced hearing, stroking her hair down. Presses a lingering kiss to her forehead and squeezes her arm.

He turns towards the Marauder, not once sparing a glance at Crosshair. Not once peering sidelong. His gaze is stuck on the ship as he walks past the sniper.

And Crosshair is left with only his daughter standing with her back towards him, her face towards Tipoca City, the ash-grey clouds, and the slim horizon beyond. Arms still clutched around herself, shoulders drawn and head bowed, she looks so little and lonely, a lone star in a crumbling galaxy.

He can’t bear this. To see her suffer so terribly at heart and do nothing. But he has all but denounced them and, by extension, her. He would pull her right here and now into his embrace and hold her warm and safe and sure.

But it’s no longer his place to do so.

His fingers dig into the plates around his biceps, a restraint upon himself, even as he grits his teeth in defiance.

If they would just stay. If they would just follow orders—

It’s a futile train of thought, and he doesn’t want to add it to his pile of growing grievances. With a snarl, he shoves it out of his mind to burn with Kamino.

She turns at that very moment, bent and weary, and runs towards—

She runs past him, even as his arms instinctively fall open to receive her. He berates the hope that thrills through his vibrating pulse, fists his shaking hands at his sides. Watches from his periphery as she heads for the Marauder and his traitor-brothers.

Remembers a time he watched her take her first steps.

His eyes close the moment she passes him, his head bows with the weight of failure.

The tattoo of feet against the platform stops.

Stops, then shifts as if, as if it turns towards—

Him. They turn towards him, those feet.

And when he chances a glimpse over his pauldron, truly enough, there stands his daughter with wide eyes and quivering mouth. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t say the first word. Simply watches him and waits.

There is only so much anticipation a sniper can take. And in the matters of his heart, he is shamefully impatient.

“What?”

True to his nature, the word is growled and icy, and he hates himself for the way it makes her eyelids flicker.

“Thank you,” she says in a halting yet sincere voice, “For saving AZI.”

AZI. AZI.

She thanks him for saving a hunk of metal when he had been saving her.

Oh, but it’s just like her, isn’t it? He ought to have expected it from a child raised in their care. A clone child, nonetheless.

Ever thinking of another, and never of oneself.

He nearly laughs. He nearly cries.

Nearly. Only nearly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know what to say. He wants so dearly to scold her for being so reckless in those debris-filled waters. He wants so dearly to hold her in his arms and never let go.

“Consider us even,” he says instead, like the fool he is, thinking only of the time she had rescued him from drowning and not from himself. He doesn’t even deign to face her, so great is his sorrow.

Her mouth twists as she considers the dry platform, something crazed in the way her gaze flits about an unseen shape. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides nervously. There’s a desperation in her face that borders on an unfathomable fear.

She blurts at last, “You’re still their brother, Crosshair.”

Time stands still. Tears run down her face.

“You’re my brother too.”

She turns, she leaves, she runs for the Marauder and the traitors. The engines rumble, the ship lifts into the air, the ramp closes. It turns, they turn, and leaves, they leave.

All of this registers as a distant echo, his mind vacuous of sound and space. Save for a single ricocheting thought, screaming hoarse and bloody.

Brother. She called him brother.

Not Crosshair. Not Buir.

But brother.

It's the equivalent of having his heart ripped out of its cage.

He wishes his hearing had been taken first.

They had taught her, when she was so young and so small, to call them by their names or call them brother in the unlikely event they were discovered with her. It was a precaution, a safety measure, for her sake and hers alone.

The Kaminoans took any and every reason to eliminate them. It was a miracle — or more likely their enhancements and success rate — that kept Nala Se from decommissioning or reconditioning them when Omega had been discovered in their keeping.

Even if it had never come to use, still they had insisted upon the habit.

But now, now, when Tipoca City and all its damned facilities have fallen, no trace of the demagolkase who lived there remaining; now is when Omega used it, drenched from head to toe in rain, sea, and tears.

When she had no need of it. When she bade him farewell.

All this time, hunting them down, serving under the Empire, doing the bidding of those who considered him worth dirt underfoot, he had believed there was still a chance to bring back what was his. To reclaim those he had lost to insanity and guide them home to him.

He turns to watch the Marauder leave the atmosphere, to watch it disappear like a star blinking out of view.

And all his hopes are dashed with a single word from a weeping daughter, a word once meant for safety now cleaving his soul like a sharpened dagger. He understands that, no matter what, she will not stay. He understands that, no matter what, she is no longer his to keep.

His head dips to glare daggers at the empty platform.

They will not return. He doesn't expect it of them. He doesn't need it of them.

He has made the right decision, there is no doubt.

Why, then, does he get the feeling that he has lost everything?

[cuddles-with-dragons]

The Everything's Fine AU

It's what we hope will happen in S3.

Tech's alive and fine. Crosshair rejoins the Batch. Everyone's alive.

Oh, and they join the Rebellion.

And cause the Empire so much chaos.

Also they team up with the Ghost crew.

It's fun.

~~~

Chopper: When do I get my own gun? Echo: I wouldn’t trust you with a Nerf gun.

Chopper: Dinosaurs aren't extinct. I mean, Echo is walking in this room. Crosshair: *wheeze*

Echo: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Hera: Fucking Ezra and Omega were trying to summon a Sith force ghost again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

Hunter: Don't worry, I've got a few knives up my sleeve. Zeb: I think you mean cards. Omega: He did not. Hunter, pulling out knives: I did not.

Hera: I’m telling you, my team is competent. Crosshair, rushing in: Hera! Your boyfriend tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

Stormtrooper: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single speeder bike. Omega, with Sabine and Zeb behind her: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Stormtrooper: Yes…three. Omega: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Stormtrooper: Wha- Omega: Ezra FUCKING FELL OFF!

Crosshair: What are you doing here? Chopper: I could ask you the same question. Crosshair: I live here. This is my squad's ship. Chopper: I should probably ask you a different question.

Ezra: Crosshair has only punched me three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

Tech: *Shoves the door open, looking panicked* Kanan: What did you do?! Tech: NOBODY DIED! Kanan: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

[only-one-cannoli]

I’m pretty sure Crosshair knows about Tech, and that we probably won’t get to see when Omega first told him so instead i want a scene with Crosshair sat as far away as he can be from the others on the ship, holding Tech’s broken goggles and just looking so weary and forlorn,I want to see him mourn his brother (and i want it to break us a little cus you know he would blame himself, internally at least, externally he would 100% blame Hunter)

[crashlanding-skywalker]

[on Kamino]

cadet! Crosshair: Tech?

cadet! Tech, not looking up from his datapad: hmm?

Crosshair: can i ask you a favor?

Tech: yes

Crosshair: dont give up on me

Tech, now looking at crosshair: Cross...

Crosshair, hugging his legs: just.. promise me that

Tech, goes to hug him: of course, i'll never

Tech: never gave up on you, Cross i promise

[on Pabu, after saving omega on tantiss again]

Crosshair, looking up to the sky: you didnt keep your promise

Crosshair, kicks a rock with tears in his eyes: you gave up on me, Tech

[daisymintt]

Angsty Crosshair edit for ya!

[friendlyneighborhoodsynthezoid]

Pirate Batch! Echo- Part 3

Coruscant didn’t sound so bad to Echo. He’d been there several times, and he had fond memories of shore leave with his squad before…

Before.

But clearly things had changed. Echo guessed that Coruscant was not a popular place to go if you wanted to stay under the radar. At least, that was the impression he was left with as he watched the reactions of the Havoc Marauder’s crew.

In the wake of Hunter’s announcement, the entire group fell into an uncomfortable silence. Eyes darted around to one another’s faces; many throats were cleared. After several long, strained seconds, the tense atmosphere was broken, surprisingly by Crosshair. He snorted and stood up from the table abruptly. The hissing sound he made could have been considered a laugh, but not one with any sort of mirth. “We’re all going to die,” Crosshair said, before stalking out of the room. The others simply watched him go.

Then the spell broke. Wrecker stood and slapped Echo on the back- nearly sending his nose through the wooden tabletop- and began clearing dishes. In no time, he stacked everything up and disappeared towards the galley.

Next to go was Hunter, who had a perturbed look on his face as he muttered, “I’d better go make sure Cross doesn’t kill anything,” he gave them all a nod and an apologetic smile and left to follow the wayward crewman.

Last to leave were Tech and Phee. They had spent the last few dragging moments talking quietly about something Echo didn’t bother to overhear. Before he left, Tech paused his conversation and turned back to Echo.

“I imagine this reaction is not what you would anticipate, Echo,” Tech said. He did look mildly regretful, which Echo was starting to realize was about as much as could be expected from Tech. “I assure you we have good reason. I promise I will explain everything to you shortly. For now, I must simply implore you to trust us. You may claim a hammock, if you like, or return to my office if you prefer. I will be along to check on you shortly, once a few matters have been settled.” With that, he and Phee left.

 Echo didn’t appreciate being sent to his room like a misbehaving child, much less being ‘checked on,’ but he supposed that there was something he was missing. Tech certainly seemed to think so. Out of uncertainty- or perhaps spite- Echo didn’t move from the table. Everyone had jobs to do or important conversations or something of some importance at least. Meanwhile he was simply here. Because there was no where else he could be.

He didn’t know how long he sat there at the deserted table, enjoying his impromptu pity party- he seemed to have a lot of those these days- when a motion caught his attention from the corner or his eye. He turned to see the scraggly tooka, Gonky, wobbling up to him. Echo stared at the tooka. The tooka stared back. It meowed. At least, Echo thought it was a meow. It could have been hacking up a hairball or wailing like a sea spirit for all Echo could tell. Clearly there was something very wrong with this tooka. The tooka butted its head against Echo’s metal shin and then took couple steps back and leapt up to land on his lap. Gonky settled himself on the astonished Echo’s legs and purred. Echo was torn between pulling the thing off him or letting himself enjoy the sensation of a living thing being near him. Even if it was a horrible orange tooka that seemed to be missing an ear, some fur, and most of its braincells.

Well, Echo mused, bitterly running his hand across his own hairless scalp, we might have some of that in common. Echo hooked his metal arm underneath the creature and heaved it up to lay across his shoulders the way he’d seen Wrecker do earlier that day. Finally finding the motivation to overcome his odd inertia, he stood up and clomped his way back towards Tech’s ‘office.’ The man had offered, after all and Echo did not fancy encountering a wild Crosshair in the crew quarters at some ungodly hour of the night.

Echo settled himself in the office hammock. It was a nice one. He wondered how frequently Tech left this room when there wasn’t a weird stray Echo inhabiting it. From the general state of the place, he guessed not often.

Echo tried not to feel to discouraged that his mind started to blur with fatigue the moment he lay down, transferring Gonky to lie on his stomach. After all, what did it matter if he was useless now? He could only hope that the crew of the Havoc Marauder would manage to get to Rex, and that maybe – just maybe- that would somehow make everything better. Rex had to know something, didn’t he? If he were honest with himself, it was a faint hope. So, he simply lay and petted Gonky’s scraggly head while he waited for things to make sense again.

__

He must have dozed off. When he woke up, he was staring directly into a pair of sharp and angry eyes. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out in alarm. Crosshair was perched on the edge of Tech’s desk, face alarmingly close to Echo’s and glaring as if he planned to set Echo’s skull ablaze by sheer will. Gonky awoke and hissed at the man. Crosshair tore his eyes from Echo’s just long enough to switch targets and hiss back at the cat. Gonky mewled and cowered beneath Echo’s metal knees.

Suddenly, the door opened with a bang and Wrecker tromped in. The giant man wasted no time in coming right up to them and hauling Crosshair off the desk by the back of his coat.

“Hunter said he wasn’t a security risk Cross. You can lay off the stalking now,” Wrecker set Crosshair down in the doorway, carefully positioning himself between Crosshair and Echo. Crosshair held Wreckers gaze defiantly, before taking a reluctant step away. Before he was out of sight, he cast one more glare straight into Echo’s soul. I’m watching you, was the clear message in his eyes, I do not trust you. Then he was gone.

“Be a person!” Wrecker shouted after him.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Wrecker said, turning back to where Echo was extricating himself from the hammock, “he’s just jumpy around new people. Eventually he’ll get over it. Or not. We’ll see.” Wrecker snorted.

Echo tried to match the man’s humor, but he was pretty sure his smile was more a pained grimace than anything else. He forced a weak chuckle. “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much in the way of respectable company if even the captain has a skull tattoo over half his karking face.” Maker, please let him have judged Wrecker right…

He had. Wrecker burst out laughing, startling Gonky out of the hammock and sending the tooka bolting from the room.

“HA!” Wrecker boomed. “I told him it was a dumb tattoo!” he calmed somewhat and grinned widely at Echo, “Yer not wrong, mate. But word to the wise,” he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially- though Echo noticed that his whisper was still not much quieter than his regular voice.

“I learned its best just to encourage him. He’ll get real defensive about it if you mention it. Goes on and on about his ‘image’. Fun to watch Cross bug him ‘bout it, not that he has much of a leg to stand on,” Wrecker held his hand up on top of his head like tooka ears and gave a small hiss, “not exactly approachable either, is he?”

Echo laughed truly this time, and it felt… good. He breathed a bit easier for it, as if something heavy had been lifted from his chest. “Then it’s a good thing they’ve got you, isn’t it?” he tried.

Wrecker nodded happily. “That’s right! I’m here for-” he screwed up his brow in deep concentration- “Die-plo-ma-cy, I am! At least, when I’m not busy cracking skulls.”

Wrecker led Echo out of the office as they chatted, his presence alleviating some of Echo’s anxiety about wandering around on the ship. Echo decided he liked Wrecker, even if he was loud. He reminded him vaguely of someone he may have known once, before…

Before.

That reminded him. “Tech said he’d talk to me about Coruscant.”

Wrecker stopped walking, and Echo halted as well. The giant had led them among more hammocks to a corner of the compartment that must have been his bunk. Echo’s cursory inspection deduced that the place was a health hazard, an armory, and a child’s bedroom all rolled up into one. He thought he spotted something made of red and black fabric nestled among blankets and cannonballs. Something with a face?

Wrecker sat down on the floor and Echo copied him, electing to ignore their strange surroundings for the moment.

“Tech said I could fill ya in,” Wrecker started, “he’s either arguing with Hunter or snogging Phee, and either way I’d rather not bug him.”

“Tech and Phee?” Echo interrupted before he could stop himself.

Wrecker only laughed. “That’s what we said too!” he half-shouted. “And to be honest its more likely he’s off telling her about some fascinating new frog species or something. I dunno. Whatever works for them. We don’t pry. But he did send me to tell ya the game plan.”

“Coruscant’s not so friendly to folks like us these days. The Empire likes it there, and it likes us dead. We find it best to stick to the outer islands when we can. But we think your buddy Rex is there with his little Underground,” Echo’s ears perked up, and Wrecker continued, “apparently the best way to fight the Empire is from under its nose. I generally prefer a good explosion, but we help out where we can.”

“Phee said she’d take care of the Marauder for us while we slip in to check on things. If all goes to plan, we’ll either find Rex or we’ll find someone to get message to him. On that note,” Wrecker gave him a curious look, “what is it you want us to tell him ‘bout you?”

Echo hadn’t thought this far ahead. He had no idea what he wanted to say to Rex, especially if Rex thought he was dead for who knows how long. Wrecker seemed to sense his uncertainty.

“Don’t worry about it yet,” Wrecker said kindly, “we can’t be giving him too many details till we’re face to face anyway. How about a code or something’? Something he’ll recognize as from you?”

A tough question. Did he even remember enough to make a good code? As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. The words came spilling from him before his conscious mind could interfere.

“Tell him… not all Dominoes fall.”

[abigfanofstarwars]

i sWEAR TO FUCK IM LOSING IT

**deep calming breath**

let us all pray to Father Filoni that episode 12 is when we shall be blessed with the grumpy sniper again.. please

[a-lil-perspective]

Crosshair secretly worships Rihanna and absolutely has a secret playlist. Disturbia is his favorite.

[ladyanidala]

A Crosshair/Jedi!Reader for the lovely @mandosaur. Thank you for letting me write for you!!

You watch Order 66 happen, and there's nothing you can do when the love of your life is intent on killing you where you stand

[rexscanonwife]

Ok well it seems that I have completely given up :')

[freesia-writes]

A short (OR SO I THOUGHT, lol) little story of a female medic who joins the Bad Batch for a little while, finding herself in the middle of a conflict between two brothers who both seem to have developed an interest. Content Warnings: PG-13 - fluff, kissing, making out, mild descriptions of medical treatments.

[daisymintt]