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mylifeisactuallyamess · 7 months ago

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Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 19: Shadows

A/N: This chapter is a biggie, might be the biggest of the fic so far I can’t remember! Follows the events of Teth with my own twist, as always.

Warnings: 18+, clone deaths, angst, canon violence, blood, canon fighting, protective Crosshair, protective Tech, food mention.

Word Count: 10.3k+

Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

Masterlist

Tagging: @subbing-for-clones @fandom-fortress

You hated the quiet.

Hated the stillness that came with it.

Despised how it amplified every incessant thought, bringing them alive to torment you.

Everyone was asleep.

Batcher snored lightly beside Crosshair in the corner of the hold. Omega was sleeping on Wrecker’s back as he lay face down on the floor. Hunter was asleep, arms crossed over his chest as he rested upright against the hull.

Echo and Tech were in the cockpit.

The ship was hurtling through hyperspace, finally leaving Barton IV behind. You looked at the datapad in your hand and wiped a stray tear off your cheek. The image was frozen on you about to disappear into the Marauder.

It is just the excessive release of dopamine and norepinephrine, hormones that have a somewhat desirable effect on a person’s perception. It creates feelings of euphoria that can, quite frankly, be a hindrance.

Tech hadn’t been wrong. You were a hindrance for him. You felt how it confused his thoughts, clouding his logical decisions whenever he was around you. The screen went dark from lack of use but you kept the headphones on. Enclosing yourself in the silent bubble, inflicting a quiet torture you couldn’t escape. The beat of your heart was your only company, slowly driving you to distraction. So much so, your hands clenched into fists until pain filled your palms like a physical object.

Your body reacted violently when a long fingered hand tried to prise open your fists. Rocking back into a crate, the noise making you jump again.

“Sssh!” Crosshair hissed after he pushed one of the headphones aside. He waited, looking around but it seemed no one had woken up. A breath slowly eased out from between your trembling lips. He jerked his head back to where he’d been lying, tugging on your wrist.

Batcher let out a small whine, her tail thumping on the floor and she shifted to make room for you. Crosshair went back to his position, not letting go of your wrist so both your hands were draped over Batcher’s side. The hound sighed happily, her glow of warmth chasing away the melancholy that had been haunting you.

Cross let go of your hand but you weren’t ready for that yet, placing your hand over his. You heard his huff and felt the twitch of his fingers but he didn’t pull away. Maybe…in this moment, he needed the company as much as you did.

Burying your face into Batcher, breathing in her musky scent and bathing in her presence was just what you needed to finally sleep.

For the first time in a while, you felt refreshed. The dark of your dreams had been nightmare free. Batcher shifted under your hand and you absently rubbed her side, snuggling into her warmth to mumble, “That was a good sleep.”

“Stop rubbing my chest like I’m that stinking hound.” You recoiled quickly, snatching your hand away as your eyes flew open.

Batcher wasn’t laying between you and Crosshair anymore, she had moved and somehow your hand had been resting on his chest. The clone lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with an expression that told you he wished it would cave in and kill him immediately.

“I’m sorry!”

“You smell like a hound,” Wrecker snickered from across the hold. Dread seeped into your body and you lurched upright, looking for a certain someone.

“He’s in the cockpit,” Crosshair answered your unspoken question. “He insisted you shouldn’t be moved.” Everything inside you was collapsing, tugging down to the forbidden depths where you hid the emotions you weren’t ready to face. Tech had seen you sleeping next to Crosshair. With a groan you shoved the heel of your hands straight into your eyes.

This whole situation was an excruciating mess. Maybe Echo could take you when he went back to the underground. Leave the Batch in peace to live out their lives and forget you ever existed.

“Guys,” Hunter’s voice rumbled from the cockpit. “Rex is sending a transmission.”

“About time!” Wrecker smiled wildly. “Hopefully he’s got something good for us.” Echo had pulled the ship from hyperspace, hanging motionless in the darkness of space. Stars filled the canopy, studding it like diamonds, glittering and glinting with their own inner fire.

The holo was already on, an imagine of a clone with closely cropped light hair was looking around at all the faces surrounding him. Reminding you very much of Echo’s first greeting, Rex gave you a subtle nod before turning to Omega.

“It’s good to see you, kid.”

Omega beamed. “You too, Rex.”

“Is everything alright?” Echo asked.

“Ah. Yes and no.”

“What is it, Captain?” Hunter crossed his arms, looking wary as he eyed the blue flickering figure.

“You need to come back to base.”

“I’ll drop this lot off and I’ll be on my way,” Echo responded quickly.

“No. You still need to rendezvous with Gregor. But the rest of you, I need here.” Rex’s eyes sought you out, pouring with apologies you didn’t think you deserved.

“Hemlock is looking for me.” Rex rubbed his stubbled jawline, giving you a curt nod.

“Yeah and not just you either. Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this.”

The cockpit was mostly quiet considering everyone was sat in it. Echo was answering Hunter’s questions about the newest clone base, Tech was on his datapad, occasionally adding a comment he deemed relevant. Wrecker sat on the floor, making a fuss of Batcher. Omega and Cross were in the spare seats, the kid mimicking Crosshair’s brooding pose. You were sat behind them, in the corner being mesmerised by the rush of hyperspace.

You enjoyed the shine of it in everyone’s eyes. No matter what they were feeling, the reflection of space remained unchanged. Vast and unyielding against even the flow of time, space yawned all around. It scared you, sensing the emptiness beyond the ship, but it was better to be there than inside your own head.

Since the transmission with Rex…no.

Since Tech had seen you asleep beside his brother, you noticed his emotions were muted.

Maybe you were trying not to reach out to him, lessening the connection that tethered you together.

Quite possibly, he wasn’t reaching out either. Unwittingly putting up those barriers around himself.

You felt the light of this force in all living things, but none of them burned as brightly as you did. What would it be like? To come across another being that had the same awareness of the force you did? You doubted you would ever find out.

The reverie you found yourself in was broken by the jarring sensation of the ship coming out of light speed. Echo guided the ship through the atmosphere, landing it easily in a landing space cleared near a B’omarr Order Monastery that served as the new base. On closer inspection, the building was actually sat on top of some natural rock that had been hewn out to disguise how deep the structure really went.

Your hands needed to fidget. The idea of being away from the relative safety of Pabu, longer than planned, made you feel off kilter. To be here — once Echo left — without a ship, made you anxious.

Plates of armour clacked together when you shifted the helmet in the crook of your arm, drawing the attentions of Crosshair and Tech who had taken a spot either side as you all waited for the ramp to open.

“What’s the matter?” Crosshair gave you a sidelong judgemental stare, his fingers tugged on the toothpick he never seemed to be without.

“Just feels wrong,” you muttered, trying to shift the plates into a comfortable position, effectively making yourself more uncomfortable.

Cross regarded you for a moment. “You look like a 5 year old natborn dressed you.” Wrecker snorted at the disdainful jibe, even Hunter looked amused when he glanced back to check on you. Seemed their episode on Barton had smoothed some feelings out between them.

“Haha,” was the only sarcastic response you could think of, scrunching up your face in annoyance.

“Would you allow me to alleviate your discomfort?”

Instantly you stilled. “Yes, yes please.”

Tech nodded to acknowledge your breathy response and began to adjust the armour plates. Your gaze seared through him but your heart betrayed you with every brush of his fingers. Your scalp tingled with awareness due to his proximity, lashes fluttering slightly when his breath ghosted across the side of your face.

Crosshair shook his head as a reddish, purple light filled the hold. No doubt he thought Tech was pandering to you again. He shouldn’t have said that to his brother, and you shouldn’t have reacted the way you did. But you felt there was no other way, you had to push Tech away in the same moment you pushed Cross. The sniper was still trying to find his footing in the squad, you didn’t want to make him feel like you had taken your support of him away.

When Tech stepped aside, you saw a pair of clones waiting at the bottom of the ramp.

“They don’t look happy to see us,” Wrecker whispered loudly before breaking out into a smile and laugh, jamming his hand into Crosshair’s shoulder. “Just like old times, huh?”

The clone from the transmission, Rex, walked forward to meet you, another behind him in a set of white and teal armour. He had a scar up his left cheek and a hard scowl on his face, which was directed at Crosshair. You didn’t need to focus your awareness, to feel the waves of anger and suspicion that radiated off this clone. Not even Rex’s eternal inner calm could counter the harshness you felt.

“Thanks for coming,” Rex met the gaze of everyone in the squad briefly, giving a small smile to Omega.

“Good to see you, Rex,” Hunter said.

“Wish I felt the same,” the other clone started, casting a vicious look up and down Crosshair. You tensed. “I have unfinished business with this one. Remember me?” He stepped forward, a move you mirrored to stand a step in front of Crosshair. It took the clone a few moments to see through his anger, recognition dawned, but it wasn’t enough to make him back down. “Surprised I’m alive?! Most of my squad from Ryloth is dead because of you.”

He raised a finger at Crosshair, to jab him over your shoulder, except you knocked it away. Mustering a competitive glare of your own.

“Easy, Howzer,” Rex put a hand on the clone’s shoulder.

Howzer. Formally a Captain…you were sure of that. Some essence of truth welled up from the forgotten recesses of your mind.

“I know you two have history. But we’re all on the same side now.” Howzer scoffed at Rex’s words, his scathing glance flickered to you before he took a small step back.

A collective breath was released from everyone at your back and it made you lower your eyes to fixate on the ground. They had been worried about your reaction, expecting you to fly off the handle no doubt and show your true colours.

Hunter moved the moment along like it had never happened. “Why’d you call us here, Captain?”

“We have something to show you. Follow me.”

“Omega!” Echo called from the ship and she turned to run back. Wrecker and Batcher stayed with her, so you continued on into the base with the others following Rex.

You paused at the door. There was a pressure in the air around you, a warning. It tugged at your gut, making you scan the sky for anything out of the ordinary.

“Are you sensing something?” Tech was waiting a few paces away, head tilted as he registered your behaviour. For a moment you wondered why he had noticed the quick change in you, but then with Hunter as brother, he would be astute at recognising these types of mannerisms.

“It’s just a feeling,” you told him as you began to follow the others once more.

“Positive or negative?” He inquired.

“I’m not sure.”

Rex lead you all into the main area of the base. In the centre was a round command post, surrounded by control panels, storage crates, an eating area and a handful of clones that all had matching glares when they saw Crosshair had walked in.

The animosity was cloying, stoking that forever burning rage within you, born from the injustice of the situation. If they were unhappy to see Crosshair, you felt they should be unhappy to see you as well.

“Your numbers are growing,” Hunter observed, noticing the scowl off a clone in camouflage coloured armour and another in white and yellow.

“Well, we need all the help we can get,” Rex informed him. “Once we find the exact coordinates of the Tantiss Base, we have to hit it hard if we’re gonna pull our brothers out of there.”

Everything inside you tightened at the mention of Tantiss. Crosshair simmered with the same level of hesitancy beside you.

“I have questions about the facility, but that’s not the only reason why I sent for you.” Rex grabbed a puck off the console. “We recovered a target list from an Imperial operative.” He pressed a button to reveal a holo of you. “That’s not all.” The image changed to one of Omega.

“Not a surprise,” Crosshair’s voice was verging on icy sharpness. “They escaped Imperial custody.”

“So did you,” Howzer instantly pointed out. “But you’re not on the list.”

“Guess I’m not as valuable to them,” Cross answered, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Or you’re feeding them information!”

“Back off!” You blurted out, stunning the entire room to silence. Howzer looked shocked but it didn’t last long, his ire now directed at you. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I do,” Howzer countered angrily. “You expect us to believe he was held on Tantiss for months, but he doesn’t know how to get back there?!”

Rage. It was so fierce, rising to meet Howzer’s own, it burned under your skin. “And what about me?” Your head cocked to the side, listening to the shuffle of feet behind you. “I was there for six months.” You stepped forward again, enjoying the little thrill when Howzer bumped into the console behind him. Your voice became quieter. “Locked in a room with no window. Isolated, with only my own nightmares for company. Do you really think I would be able to find my way back to that?”

“Easy,” Hunter placed a hand on your shoulder, taking the edge off the red haze and you forced your body to unclench.

“You weren’t loyal to the Empire before you were, relocated to Tantiss,” Howzer responded diplomatically. “He was.”

“Whether you believe me or not,” Crosshair said. “It’s the truth. But I’m not loyal to the Empire any longer.”

Howzer scoffed. “Your squad may trust you. But I don’t.”

“What’s going on?” Everyone shifted at Omega’s voice, trying to cover the lingering impression of averted confrontation.

“The Empire is targeting you and Stitch. Again.” Crosshair explained dryly.

“No surprise there,” Wrecker said with a dark chuckle.

“Why were they after you before?” Your brain whited out at Rex’s question, thankful when Omega answered first.

“To force Nala Se to cooperate and conduct certain experiments.”

“Which, were what?”

Your hands balled up into fists, the image of the lab tried to drift over your vision, wanting to drag you back there, to trap you once more. You fought the urge to close your eyes, because if you gave in, then the base would be erased from sight and all that would be left, would be the white walls.

Still the darkness came, forcing that pain between your eyes to bloom again. It sucked colour and sound from the room, leaving behind a void of nothing that made your breath quicken. There was something here. Something…unnatural.

A touch on your lower back, feather light and unnoticeable to anyone else, attempted to ease some tension from you. Tech was calm. Worried for you, but overall, his calm prevailed. There was nothing you could do to stop his presence melding with yours, it fascinated you how easily it happened with him and no one else. As though your souls wanted nothing more than to be entwined all the time. He was a balm, soothing colour back into your world.

“Nala Se was working on something involving M-Count? I don’t know what that means, but they were taking blood samples from everyone…even me,” Omega was saying.

“M-Count?” Rex repeated.

M-Count. The pitch of your heart elevated, because you had heard those words before…but you couldn’t recall the details.

“Stitch?” Everyone was looking at you, waiting for you to respond to Rex. “What about you?”

“I would advise caution when questioning Stitch about her time on Tantiss,” Tech spoke up.

“Why?” Howzer prompted when it didn’t look like Tech was going to elaborate for once.

Tech swung his helmet round to face the reg. “Given the highly traumatic nature of the event, do you require an additional rationale?" His expression didn’t change, but his tone of voice became waspish.

“Well we don’t know what happened. Do we?” Taunted Howzer.

“Don’t, push it,” snarled Crosshair.

“You might want to back off,” Hunter warned the reg, throwing an arm out to stop Crosshair launching himself across the few paces to Howzer.

“I can tell you everything I know,” Omega spoke up.

Tech’s hand wandered up your back while Omega talked more. You couldn’t feel his touches through the backplate, but you felt every tiny vibration of movement with your other senses. He easily brushed aside the dark thoughts, sending them back into the void they spawned from.

“Chow time!” Fireball called out from the doorway as Omega’s story wrapped up. “Gregor’s recipe, with a few of my own spicy modifications.”

“Oh! Now you’re talking,” Wrecker followed the smell of food, Batcher and Omega right by his side.

“Wait.” Everyone else hesitated and looked at the sniper. “There’s more you should know.” Crosshair sucked in a breath, unable to shift the dark weight in his chest he fought to speak over. “Not all of the clones on Tantiss are prisoners. Some are loyal to the Empire.” He stopped, taking a second to collect himself before he continued. “There is a division of clones trained as specialised operatives and initiated into a secret deep cover program run by Hemlock.” You felt his struggle, saw the pain that flickered in the depth of his clear gaze. “Their identities are erased. They undergo, conditioning. The few that make it through come out…different.”

There was an ache in your chest, the band wrapped around you like the bindings that had strapped you into the machine. This had been done to you but also…you looked up, shivering under the dread of realisation.

“If the program’s so secretive, how do you know about it?” Howzer accused, his arms crossed defensively.

“Because they tried to make me into one of them.” Hunter and Tech shared a passing glance at Crosshair’s candid admission.

“Tried?”

“It didn’t work. Being defective is in my nature.” The urge to reach for Crosshair was overwhelming. He had admitted this, here and now, in an effort to prove he was telling the truth. Laying himself out for all to see. But you didn’t want him to look weak when he was under such scrutiny.

“You’ve encountered one before. The assassin on Coruscant.” You squinted against the pressure in your mind at Hunter’s words. The memory unfurled like a barbed flower, clawing its way free to blossom completely.

It looked like a stasis chamber but all it did was remind you of your confinement. Rex opened the panel on the top and you came face to face with another clone.

There was a void in the box, a silence that nothing could break and it screamed at you.

“He’s an assassin,” Rex clarified to the group. “His identifying numbers been wiped.”

“We’ve known they existed,” you heard Rex say. “But never knew exactly what they were.”

The unnatural silence you felt oozed from behind a closed door, drawing the air out of your lungs in a rush. You stumbled back into Tech who instantly reacted to stop you falling.

“You have one, here!” Rex’s expression contorted, looking almost apologetic in the face of your fear.

“We, uh, captured one. I’ve tried questioning him but he hasn’t been very cooperative.”

“You have one here? Alive?!” Crosshair rushed out in one breath. You turned to zero in on him. Sensing the blooming agitation and fear that blotted the space around him. “Impossible. The Empire would be on top of us already. They have ways of tracking their operatives.”

Howzer smirked. “We scanned him. He’s clear.”

“It’s not the kind of tracker your scans would pick up. Hemlock’s smarter than that,” Crosshair stressed desperately.

“I concur,” Tech backed him up. “I would not underestimate Hemlock.”

Hunter huffed, his brow dragging down. He looked at you, his intent right there for you to sense. Your fingers flexed and you gave him a nod.

“Where’s the operative?” He asked. “Show us.”

Having Tech behind, kept you going forward. You would do this. Even when it felt like you might not be able to summon the strength, you knew there was no choice.

Rex opened the door and instantly the scrawling mass that surrounded the operative, assaulted your senses.

You heard Crosshair say, “We need to leave. Now.” But you were already sinking. The assassin’s eyes devoured you. His presence screamed of chaos and agony, crawling into your presence with sharp teeth, the monster inside raging.

You cried out, unable to tear yourself away from his invisible hold. You had to try, you had to do this.

“Stitch! Let go, you must let go!” Crosshair sounded so far away…

Concentrate. This clone didn’t have the strength you did. He played on your fear, his suffering drawing out your own, like blood from a wound. Your fingers stretched outwards, feeling for the press of his throat until he choked two meters away.

The chaos lessened. Bowing under the pressure you were inflicting and giving you enough room to delve deeply into his psyche.

The strain of it brought you to your knees. Tech had his arms under yours, sinking with you. “He…he has orders to assassinate a senator.” It was difficult, so difficult trying to sort through the erratic thoughts. Many didn’t make sense, fragments of them drifted, splintered images cracked like mirrors making it impossible to make them out.

“Where is Tantiss?” Rex whispered, crouching beside you. “Can you find it?”

“I —.” Your expression contorted from the pain that speared into your mind, a soft gasp of shock spilled until you pushed through it.

“Hunter, if she continues…”

“I know, Tech. I know.”

You blocked them out. The operative struggled, looking as though he was in pain from you rummaging around in his mind. Until he strangled out a laugh.

And you knew why.

The assassin didn’t have the one answer they wanted.

It was a drain, extracting yourself from the sucking blackness. You had never felt anything so blank and so turbulent at the same time. The operative gasped, his eyes widening when you finally pulled yourself free, falling back into Tech’s chest, reaching to touch the blood dripping from your nose.

“If you want answers so badly,” the assassin sneered. His gaze now fixed on Crosshair. “Why aren’t you asking him? Right, brother?” Rage surged through your system, your vision blurred with the force of it and you pitched forward, both hands out stretched.

Good. Good.

The clone choked silently this time, his eyes bulging as your fingers closed into a fist. Pressure pushed on your mind until it felt like your head was going to crack in half.

You are more powerful than I imagined.

The desire to kill this creature was heightened by the darkening of your mind. Even as your arm shook, even as each knock of your pulse could be felt round your entire body, even as it went against who you were.

The darkness was clouding everything, exuding a sense of satisfaction as this clone’s life began to thread through your severing hold.

“Vod’ika.” Crosshair’s use of Mando’a stirred something long dormant as he kneeled beside you. “He is not worth it. He’s a liar.” He didn’t touch you, just watched as you made the operative choke for a few seconds longer until Hunter stepped in.

“Let him go, Stitch. Now.” The command in his voice could not go ignored. So you let him go. Heaving a breath in, watching the clone fall forward in his chair, gasping and coughing.

“He doesn’t know the coordinates,” you rasped, exhausted now the darkness was retreating with an air of disappointment.

“They are coming,” the assassin wheezed. Bloodshot eyes rose to fix on you and Crosshair. “They are coming for all of you.”

Your eyes grew wide. Turning to Rex with your mouth open to tell him something was about to happen when an explosion rocked the ground floor.

“What was that?” Rex shouted.

“They’re here.”

“Get up, vod’ika,” Crosshair urged you. As two more blasts thundered through the base.

“Comms are down. We move out. Now!” Rex bellowed.

“Don’t open it!” You shoved Crosshair away with one hand, reaching in the opposite direction with the other. But you were too slow. The blaster bolt ripped through your hold in the force, killing the assassin immediately. The mental chaos ceased. Leaving behind an emptiness that was almost worse.

“We got a shooter out here!” Wrecker bellowed.

Strong arms grabbed you. Pulling you from the room to hunker down behind some crates. The flash of Wrecker’s blaster tattooed the back of your eyes.

“Tech, we need to get comms online,” Rex shouted.

“Put this on.” Crosshair was forcing your helmet over your head. “Pull a weapon if you can’t use the other.” He’d seen the blood on your face that had now congealed under your nose and over your lips.

“Help Nemec. We’ll cover you!” Tech nodded at Rex, a blaster and his datapad already in his hands. Nemec moved swiftly to the command post, pulling the panel off the access the wires. A high pitched whine screeched in your ears and your stomach dropped into the floor.

You grabbed onto Tech just as he was about to break cover, when the command post exploded on one side, throwing Nemec across the room. The clone was alive and Tech was unharmed.

“Backup plan! Into the bunker. I’ll cover you! Go!” The squad leapt into action. Rex took point, while the rest of you moved. Howzer retrieved Nemec. Your armour knocked against Tech’s and banged into Crosshair’s as you all tried to make your way across.

Red, blistering heat had you throwing up a hand before your visor could adjust to the brightness. You watched another clone charge towards the shooter with the flame thrower, taking a blaster shot in the shoulder at close range. “Fireball!” Your scream filled the second of silence before the detonator exploded, heaving you all backwards with the force of the blast.

Your ears were ringing. There was a disorientating pressure in your face from where your helmet had crushed into you with the blast. Every movement made your entire body scream as you tried to get up.

Rock and dust fell from the building foundations with a hiss. The world rocked alarmingly, circuits sparked and screens shattered but it was the silent void where Fireball had been that made you crawl forward.

Tears slipped free at the agonising loss of life you sensed. “Fireball!” You screamed again, ignoring the chunks of stone that came loose from the ceiling, slamming into the ground to create a webbing of cracks under your feet.

“Move!” Hunter barrelled out of nowhere, almost tackling you back into the room with the dead assassin. The pair of you fell to the floor, covering your heads as more of the ceiling came down, breaking the floor apart and sealing you all in the bunker.

The room filled with dust and smoke. Fire crackled alarming, the stench of burnt circuits made you gag. Age old panic wove around your throat.

This was familiar, too familiar.

You couldn’t see anyone, unable to focus enough to search your feelings for them either. So you cried out instead. “Tech! Tech!”

“I am here.” His helmet materialised through the fog of your tears, your hands reached out to him. You needed to touch him, to feel he was alive and breathing. "I am uninjured,” he told you when he realised what you were doing. “However, if you persist with such a thorough examination, I may become vulnerable to injury,” Tech’s voice was strained and you eased the grip on his arm, a sob shuddering through your body.

“Crosshair!”

“My ears are still ringing,” he moaned from somewhere to the right. “Don’t start screaming my name.”

Everyone else began to appear. Batcher sniffed out the others, Hunter and Nemec helped Crosshair, Omega helped Rex up and Howzer stumbled into the ring of torchlight shaking his head. Wrecker pressed a hand on the rock, testing how well sealed it was. Hunter shone his torch around the room, inspecting the damage and looking for a way out.

“We need to get moving before their reinforcements get here,” Rex said.

“Is there another way off this spire?” Rex gave a brief chuckle at Hunter’s question.

“There’s always another way.” With a swift kick, he moved some crates to reveal a hole in the floor that showed the entrance to a tunnel. “This leads to the lower levels.”

“Are you injured?” You glanced at Tech while Rex and Hunter helped Omega into the tunnel.

“I don’t think so.” You were numb. Unsure if you could cope with anything else in this very moment.

“Would you say if you were?” Crosshair asked.

“Probably not,” You muttered.

“Hmm.” He clearly didn’t like your response but chose not to push it. Wrecker was next to disappear as Tech crouched beside the entrance.

Your breath caught loudly through the vocoder.“Crosshair…”

“Don’t ask me.”

“If I get taken…” you whispered.

“I—we won’t let that happen.” He nudged you forward, putting an end to the conversation.

The tunnels were rough, slightly smaller in some places and you winced at the sound of Wrecker’s armour scraping along the stone. The space eventually opened out to a wide stair case that clearly spiralled around the core of the monastery.

Rex looked down into the hollow centre to work out how far up you all were. “Our leech vessel is docked about ten levels down.”

“Doesn’t have a hyperdrive though,” Howzer announced. “We won’t get far.”

“No, but we can use it to contact Echo.”

“Stay alert,” Hunter needlessly reminded everyone. Your fingers felt rubbery as you gripped the blaster and pulled your vibroblade free, following the others down the many steps. There was a rumble through the thick walls and Tech inspected the ceiling as though he could see through it.

“The reinforcements are here,” he stated.

Another explosion rocked the base, dust scattered down the steps with a raining hiss.

“No going back now,” Rex told you all heavily. “The ship’s docked just down this corridor.”

Your feet stopped moving. Something was coming with pounding footsteps that thundered rhythmically in your mind.

“Stitch? We have to keep moving,” Tech encouraged you quietly.

“Stop,” Crosshair loudly ordered and the group ground to a halt.

“What is it?” Nemec asked. You gestured to Crosshair and he nodded, looking out into the darkness through an opening beside you.

“They’re coming.” He looked up, his visor reflected the bright red blaster bolt that missed him by inches. You wrenched him away from the opening, pushing him against the wall.

“I’ll handle it,” Crosshair announced, giving you a shove with his elbow. “Go.”

You didn’t want to leave him. You nearly resisted Tech and his urgent grasp as he pulled you away from Crosshair. The only reason you went, was because of the determination you felt in Crosshair. This was his battle to face.

Rex led everyone into the tunnels, torch light bobbing with each step, throwing shadows along the walls. The group was breathing heavily, their resolve hardening the closer you all moved to the ship. The ramp opened and Rex dove in to power it up. You hovered by the hatch with Wrecker and Tech, blaster cocked and ready incase Crosshair wasn’t the one coming down the tunnel.

But he was, relief cascading over you as he ran into the ship. “We need to go.”

“We’re waiting on you,” Wrecker told him.

“You didn’t kill him,” you whispered to Crosshair.

“I missed,” he seethed angrily. Disappointed with himself but resigned at the same time.

The vessel was tiny, the space made smaller by the amount of bodies crushed into it. Batcher was hassling Nemec with Omega talking to him. Tech was standing next to Rex at the controls, Howzer and Hunter moved aside to make room for Wrecker. You were crushed in, forced to stand before Crosshair.

“Let me see.”

“No…”

“Crosshair.” Your voice was sharp, ending all protests. Still he sighed, offering his hand to you and looking away. He was trembling, the shivers consumed his hand and you worked on smoothing them out. Using repetitive motions with your thumbs, drawing them heavily along his palm and between his fingers, working your way to his wrist.

“Prepare to launch.” Your feet spread to account for the movement of the ship, lost in calming Crosshair which ultimately calmed you as well.

But then you felt the disturbance too late. The blaster shots exploded the engines, jolting you all in midair. Alarms beeped loudly, power flickered through the ship and you saw the ground growing increasingly closer through the canopy.

“Remora-one, we’ve been compromised. Heading to marker 025 for an extraction,” Rex relayed in his transmission to Echo. “Repeat. Marker 025.”

The hull quaked as metal creaked and groaned under the pressure. Air rushed past in a scream, the cockpit began to fill with smoke.

“Impact is imminent,” Tech commented from somewhere behind you.

“We’re going down! Strap in!” Rex yelled.

“Hold on, vod’ika.” Crosshair tugged you forward, switching your places so you were in the corner and he was standing in front of you. Hunter was strapping Omega into a chair, Wrecker was holding Batcher, Howzer and Nemec braced themselves. Rex fought the ships controls, levelling it out as best he could before him and Tech abandoned them to take refuge further back in the ship. Your hand grabbed Tech’s arm, grateful when Crosshair moved over so they could both stand before you.

There was nothing you could do as the ship hit the ground. Omega cried out when the ship flipped so hard you thought your stomach was in your feet and head at the same time. The guys grunted with the effort of holding their positions, armour rattled in the twisting space as the ship lost momentum and slid across the ground instead. The lurch made everyone lose their footing, ending up in a heap on the ceiling of the cockpit.

“Well, that was awful,” Wrecker groaned loudly in the sudden stillness. Hands helped you stand. Wrecker managed to open the hatch, Batcher burst out giving herself a shake. Nemec crawled free, removing his helmet to empty the contents of his stomach in some tree roots.

Your head was swimming. Still reeling from exhausting yourself earlier, then the explosion and now this. It was a wonder any of you could stand at all.

“Is everyone all right?” Hunter checked on Omega who gave him a quick nod.

“I’ve experienced better landings,” Howzer commented over the sound of Nemec still retching.

“Grab what supplies you can,” Rex ordered, passing out a couple of bags. Omega shouldered one and Crosshair drifted over to her.

“You good?” He asked.

“Uh-huh.” You could tell she was shaken, but it didn’t overpower her.

“Got your crossbow?”

“Yep.”

Crosshair continued to interrogate her, ignoring the others as they watched curiously. “Sure you can carry those supplies?”

“Yes.” She turned to face him.

“Stay close. It’s easy to get lost in this terrain.”

There was a moment that lifted the heaviness of the situation when Omega subtly rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Hunter.”

“Oh.” Crosshair loomed over her. “I’m much worse.”

Tech’s datapad screen was reflected in his goggles when you turned to look for him. He registered your movement, glancing up at your approach. “I remain uninjured,” he informed you.

“Do you mind if I don’t take your word for it?” The datapad lowered slightly, his fingers still.

“I assure you, I would never purposely deceive you.” Tech sounded almost pained at the idea, what you could see of his expression was lined with concern.

“I’m just worried,” you admitted softly.

“Understandable. This entire situation has been less than ideal.”

“Echo should meet us at the extraction point. We have to continue on foot,” Rex informed the group once Nemec had his helmet back on.

“How far?” Hunter was frowning, his eyes tracking over the terrain as well as his exhausted and battered squad. Once he was happy with everyone he put his helmet back on.

“Five klicks north,” Nemec stated. You all looked up at the sound of the Imperial ships approaching your current position.

“We’ve got attack shuttles inbound,” Hunter observed.

“This way. Let’s move.”

It was Tantiss all over again. The jungle was thick, tree roots covered the ground making it uneven. The pace was as fast as you could all make it, stumbling through the dark, not wanting to use the torches and give away your position.

Oya’karir. The hunt had started, you can sense it with each pound of your pulse. Someone had their sights set on you and Omega, and they were right behind you.

The path evened out so Rex slowed the group to a walk as cover became more scarce. A roar created a disturbance deeper in the jungle, shocking some animals to take flight in the distance.

“What the heck was that?” Wrecker demanded gruffly.

“That would be a jungle rancor.” Tech answered without hesitation.

“A what?” You noticed Crosshair take a step closer to Omega, his rifle poised and ready to shoot.

“The creature is approximately six klicks to the west,” Tech gestured vaguely in that direction. “It should not intersect with our route.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter turned round to address his brother.

Tech glanced at him with an exasperated sigh. “I said ‘should’, not ‘would’. Despite my extensive knowledge of Teth’s fauna, even I cannot predict with absolute certainty the movements of a rancor.”

“Comforting,” Howzer muttered.

“What do they look like?”

Crosshair made a noise through his vocoder, picking up his pace to escape the inevitable information splurge that was about to occur from your question.

Tech almost missed a step at your request, stumbling slightly and then clearing his throat. “I can explain later if…?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. I think we could all do with a minor distraction,” you swept your arm out to encompass the group.

“I fought a baby rancor once,” Wrecker told Howzer, clapping the clone on the back.

“It was an adolescent,” Tech corrected him with a pointed finger

“I would have paid good credits to witness that fight,” Crosshair retorted.

“I recorded it,” Tech hastily told him.

Crosshair looked back, shaking his head a little. “Of course you did.”

“I miss Muchi,” Omega sighed from beside the sniper.

“Come on,” Hunter encouraged Tech. “What do they look like?”

"If you insist. Jungle rancors are actually quite fascinating and exhibit a very different appearance compared to their Dathomirian counterparts. There are several distinctions between the species. Most notably, their skin color is much more vibrant than that of the common rancor. Additionally, they possess sharp spines that run along much of their body, including their tongue. Jungle rancors have webbing between their fingers and toes, which common rancors lack, and their jaws differ significantly in shape and size, with the jungle rancor having the larger of the two.”

You noticed Howzer and Nemec exchange a look through their helmets while Rex shook his with a half chuckle. “Nothing ever changes,” he murmured. “The first time I met Tech, he gave me a lecture on male yalbecs.”

“Aw yeah. Now that was a good time,” Wrecker said dreamily.

“Not something I personally, would like to repeat,” Crosshair pointed out.

“Why not?” Omega inquired and Hunter groaned.

“Ah, let’s focus on that when we get back home,” he suggested.

“I have the video available on the Marauder if you would like to view it,” Tech told the kid and she grinned up at Crosshair with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Oh, definitely,” she told Tech over her shoulder.

The group fell into a comfortable silence, taking constant stock of their surroundings and now, looking out for jungle rancors.

Omega and Batcher drifted to the front with Hunter and Rex, Wrecker brought up the rear. Tech stayed beside you, his visor occasionally coming down to observe the flora in passing. Howzer and Nemec were ahead, gaining on Crosshair, you noticed with interest.

The sniper sighed when they drew level, casting quick glances in his direction. “What?”

“I’ve seen how you are with the kid and Stitch,” Howzer said quietly. Hearing your name, you zeroed in on the conversation.

“Hmm. Your point?”

“Well…” Howzer shrugged under his armour. “You’re different than you were on Ryloth. So…what changed?” You pulled Tech to a halt when Crosshair stopped to face the two regs.

“Loyalty meant something to me. But with the Empire, it didn’t go both ways.” Tech kept his gaze trained on Cross, listening closely. “I realised how disposable I was.”

“You’re not the only one,” Howzer replied kindly. You let out a breath when they all carried on walking, you and Tech following.

“I realise, we have not taken the time to talk to Crosshair about what transpired on Tantiss,” Tech murmured to you. “We do not know the full extent of what happened to him.”

“He wasn’t ready to open up then,” you reassured him. “Cross is talking now because he feels he has to prove himself. If we return to Pabu, he needs a break from it all.”

“When.”

“Huh?”

Tech gave you an earnest glance. “You said ‘if we return.’ I corrected it to ‘when we return.’”

“Were you always this much of an optimist?”

Tech took a while to respond and you wondered if you had upset him somehow. You weren’t prepared for his answer.

"I am convinced the worst ordeal is behind me. Even if the remainder of my life unfolds as a worst-case scenario, I find solace in knowing you are safe." His words made your heart ache. It was excruciating, knowing that you being taken, was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. "Therefore, I surmise I now tend to perceive the positive aspects in every situation."

“Do you have the memory of when I was taken?” Tech’s shoulders dropped a little at the request.

“I do not have the recording of what transpired within the medbay,” he hesitated long enough for you to notice. “I do, however, have the message you recorded onto Beetoo before she was destroyed.”

The medbay, the droid…you’d seen them in the videos of your memories. Unease unfurled all around you, stealing what you were going to say as the air shimmered and vibrated.

“Can you feel that?”

“No. But I am reading an Imperial ship less than a klick south.” The pair of you jogged to catch up with the others as the ship sailed overhead, drowning out Batcher’s bark. Bright lights flooded the jungle, forcing you all to find cover behind a rock and some trees. Soldiers descended from the open base of the ship, just as they had on Tantiss.

“We have to knock through their line to reach the extraction point,” Rex shouted over the sound of the engines.

“We’ve got these.” Omega produced some smoke grenades from her pack and handed them to Wrecker. He armed them and tossed them high into the air. To your surprise, the troopers fired upon your squad with stun blasts. A tremor of fear snaked down your spine. Of course they used stuns, they wanted to drag you back to Tantiss. To Hemlock. Alive.

Crosshair fired some shots and then dropped into the smoke bank next to Omega. “Stick by my side, and stay down,” he ordered.

Tech was beside you, his footsteps matched yours in the retreat, backing away from the advancing troopers. Wrecker and Batcher circled round the back of them, jumping into the fray bashing heads together and pouncing on confused soldiers.

Nemec and Howzer were like ghosts in the smoke. Dragging unsuspecting troopers back into the thick of the smoke. Tech and you were back to back, trying to make sense of the noises and shadows.

You focused, feeling a presence approaching through the dark. The blue glow of a commando visor materialised, lifting his blaster to shoot you.

You wouldn’t go back.

You refused to let Hemlock lay his hands on you ever again.

With a strangled cry you leapt forward, dodging the blast with ease and launching yourself at the commando. He went down under the weight of your body slam, his blaster knocking loose from his grip.

“Stitch!” There were bolts lighting up the smoke in flashes, live fire and stuns alike. Bodies dropped, armour crashed, Batcher’s snarls rolled through the fog like thunder.

Angling your knuckle plate, you slammed a fist into the commando’s helmet, hearing the satisfying grunt of pain. You straddled his chest, pinning one of his arms down with a knee. Your other foot planted on the ground. Holding the top of his chestplate, you raised him up to hit him in the temple again. Not caring on the jarring impact it caused your arm, to slam into his katarn with such force.

The commando’s arm was searching for his blaster, fingers touching the edge of it as he reeled from your blows. Digging your fingers under the lip of the helmet, you wrenched it off. The clone was dazed, but he instantly focused on you with pure anger and disgust. Blood oozed from his nose, smearing across his cheeks and chin.

“You’re my message to Hemlock,” you told him.

He grinned to reveal blood straining his teeth. The clone’s gaze looked at something over your shoulder. “Tell him yourself.”

A shot rang out.

Loud and close.

You could feel the heat of it, smell the scorch of flesh that permeated your helmet.

Then the clone’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he sagged heavily in your grip. You wanted to scream at the intense numbness of death rolling over you, but you were frozen, barely able to breathe.

“Just kill them. It’s much easier.” Crosshair’s voice snaked towards you, his tall form becoming more defined. The noise of fighting reached you, breaking the spell of quiet that had unknowingly descended. He walked past you, lifting his rifle to shoot at the ship.

Standing up, you watched his shots find their mark, killing the pilot and then shooting out the engines at the back. He lowered the rifle to watch the ship almost float to ground, ending in an orange fireball that swept through the jungle on a silent wind, only to be followed by the deep boom of destruction.

“Aw, yeah!” You heard Wrecker shout from somewhere.

“Let’s move!” Rex ordered.

You jumped when a hand grabbed your elbow, tight and firm you thought it was Hunter or Crosshair.

It was neither.

Tech’s eyes were wide, tension rolled off him as he marched you along.

“I can walk,” you protested weakly.

“I cannot afford to lose you again,” Tech snapped. He sighed, easing his hold on your arm when he realised he was over reacting slightly, but he didn’t let go completely. “Or, at least warn me next time you decide to engage in hand to hand combat.” You felt ashamed. He had only just admitted, losing you was the worst event in his life and you decided to be reckless in the very next battle.

A battle to possess you or Omega. Or both.

You wanted to apologise, except you weren’t really sorry. The need for Hemlock to know he’d never own you again was all consuming. If only Crosshair hadn’t killed the trooper, you would have carved out your message onto his blood spattered armour.

“How much further to the landing zone?” Hunter asked Rex.

“Just ahead. Almost there.”

You went to look behind you when Tech’s grip tightened on reflex. “No, there’s something there!” Crosshair heard your cry and stopped to look.

“What is it?” Howzer demanded, reacting to Cross aiming his rifle behind them.

The blue bolt left his rifle the same time as a red bolt shot out of the dark and straight into Nemec.

“No!” You screamed, wrenching free of Tech.

“Nemec!” Howzer moved towards his fallen brother but Crosshair shouldered him out of the way to cover.

“Get down!” The sniper demanded roughly.

Tech wrapped his arms around your waist, hauling you out of sight before the shooter could target you. “No! Nemec!” You sobbed softly, leaning back into Tech, not able to take your eyes off the body sprawled on the floor. Hairs rose all over your body at the silence of death stalking among you. Rex, Hunter and Wrecker added their fire to Crosshair’s as he made his way down the slope a little.

“Omega, smoke grenade.”

“We’re out,” she told Hunter.

“I’ll draw his fire. Get to the rendezvous.” Your face contorted at Crosshair’s voice over the internal com.

“I don’t like that idea,” Omega’s voice wavered lightly.

“Too bad.”

“No! Crosshair!” Your voice cracked over his name. You couldn’t lose anyone else today.

“Tech. Get her out of here.”

“I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving him!”

“Don’t make me stun you,” threatened Hunter as he helped Tech get you up.

“Go! Now!” Rex shouted. They forced you in the opposite direction to Crosshair. Even as you cried and begged, reaching blindly with your hands and senses until your vision was a shattered image you couldn’t make sense of.

Echoes of the rifles, ricocheting off the surrounding rocks made you flinch. You couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, or which rifle was shooting.

Fear had reared its ugly head. Burying into your chest, lacerating your insides. Each rip and tear grew wider, bleeding the blackness you had so desperately tried to hold back.

When the flash of blaster bolts hit a rock above your head, you acted. With a twist of your body, you blasted Tech and Hunter away, slamming them backwards to the ground.

“Stitch! No!” Wrecker came with the intent of grabbing you, but he was too slow when you ducked under his outstretched arms. There was a river below, the rush it over the waterfall drowned out the beat of running footsteps coming from behind.

You didn’t care. Your focus was on the two figures as they teetered over the edge. With a shout, you watched them fall. The world pulled inwards as you demanded so much of the force around you, it flexed and bent but still you couldn’t get it to reach and save Crosshair.

He disappeared beneath the dark churning water.

“He’s down there!” Howzer shouted. You were already in pursuit, not daring to take your eyes off Crosshair as he fought to keep his head above water. There was another waterfall, steeper than the last. The drop was sheer, but you didn’t care.

“Don’t do it!” Wrecker snatched you successfully this time, just before you stepped off the edge.

“It’s too steep,” Hunter told you, peering over the edge.

“Let me go! I can make it, I have to make it.”

“Not with a broken leg you won’t.” Sagging in Wrecker’s arms you glared at Hunter through the visor. “We’ll find another way down,” he said, softer this time. “I won’t leave without him either.”

“Ok. Ok!” Hunter stepped away and nodded at Wrecker who instantly released you.

“There’s a path here,” Howzer noticed, gesturing with his blaster. They let you charge ahead, Batcher beside you as she too, looked for Crosshair. Your hands were shaking, a chill began to seep from the top of your head, easing down your spine like a slow steady drip. No words could explain it, you just knew time was running out.

The path levelled, bringing you to the river bank. A shadow stood in the water, leaning over with their hands holding something under the water.

Time stopped.

Blistering rage flooded down your arms in a wave of cascading fire. Not even the cold river water could break you from the laser like focus you had. Instinct drove you. Crosshair was in the water, the rage had given you clarity enough to untangle everything your senses picked up.

Crosshair’s life was flickering, desperate to hold on. It had felt just the same as Tech’s life tried to pour through your fingers. You didn’t let it happen then, you certainly weren’t going to let it happen now.

Your awareness struck, wrapping around the operative, dragging him up a fee feet into the air where he struggled, digging at his throat with desperate fingers. You felt the same empty chaos as the other assassin, his presence literally vibrated with it.

Do it. A voice whispered in your mind, the intent nudging your thoughts along. Kill him.

No…

You didn’t want that emptiness on your hands. Each void that came after death was like an inky stain you couldn’t scrub off.

Do it. Give yourself to the dark.

You couldn’t deny, it felt good. Incredibly good to have someone at the whim of your mercy.

I can’t.

The whip of rage wasn’t your own and you tossed the operative over the edge of the waterfall to try and free yourself. The darkness that had taken up residence in your mind melted away as the enemy disappeared from sight.

Running forward, you climbed the wet rock Crosshair was barely holding onto, his fingers slipping with the strong current. “Hold on Cross!” Throwing yourself down, you grabbed his wrist with both hands, barely aware of Howzer kneeling next to you, helping to drag Crosshair free of the water.

The sniper coughed. His lungs trying to expel every drop of water that had been breathed in. You rubbed the back of his neck, supporting him through the body wracking tremors as the others made their way across the river. Tech carried his helmet.

“Can you walk?” Rex asked gently.

“I’ll be fine.” Crosshair’s voice was rough as he moved to stand, taking his helmet from Tech. “Thanks,” he directed at you, giving Howzer a nod.

“Extraction marker is just over here,” Rex pointed to an outcropping the other side of the path.

Omega waited on the bank with Batcher, rushing to Crosshair’s side. “Are you ok?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said again.

He wasn’t. The confrontation with the operative had shaken Crosshair far harder than he’d anticipated. But this wasn’t the time for you to try and figure out why.

A ship was approaching.

“That’s not Echo,” Wrecker announced.

Sure enough an Imperial ship came down to land, kicking up dirt, the air whipping it to pebble against your armour. The group closed around Omega, pulling blasters and blades, ready to fight until Echo arrived.

Clones stepped free of the ship, weapons pointed at the squad as they fanned out over the rocky outcropping. “Drop your blasters! Now!” The clone at the front had decorated armour, an image of days long gone.

Rex stepped forward, lowering his blasters slightly. “Wolffe?”

“Rex?”

There was nothing you could do as Rex holstered his weapons, the rest of the squad relaxing. Even Tech rested a hand over your blaster so it pointed to the ground.

The Captain removed his helmet, revealing himself to the Commander opposite.

“I—I thought you were dead,” Wolffe admitted. He followed Rex’s lead, holstering his own blasters and removing his helmet. “Reports said you were killed in action. That you went down aboard an attack cruiser.”

“Oh, I did,” Rex told him. “I lost a lot of good men that day. And today,” he added heavily.

“What are you doing here, Rex? Don’t tell me you’re fighting against us.” The Batch tensed at Wolffe’s angry tone.

“No. Not against you. Against the Empire. They’re imprisoning and experimenting on our brothers, killed others.”

“The Empire wouldn’t do that to us,” Wolffe countered.

“They have seen it.” Rex shifted, giving Wolffe an unhindered view of you and Omega. You pulled the helmet off, aware of how awful you looked with a face no doubt bruised and still covered in dried blood.

“It’s true,” Omega faultlessly backed up Rex. “That’s what’s happening on Tantiss.”

“We have to stop them. You can help us.” Rex approached Wolffe slowly. “You can stand with us.”

“I am a soldier of the Empire. I have my orders,” Wolffe said in a hard tone, dismissing everything he’d heard. “Hand the girl and the woman over and I’ll make sure you’re given a fair trial.” Tech side stepped in front of you with his blasters raised as Wrecker and Hunter moved to stand before Omega. Batcher gave a vicious snarl that left everyone in no doubt of her position.

Rex raised a hand, staying the Batch. “Think about what you are doing, Wolffe. I know you have been trained not to question orders. But open your eyes. You’re hunting a child. And, I bet they didn’t even tell you the reason for hunting down a medic.” He sighed at the hardening look on his brother’s face. “I know that’s not who you are. As your brother, I’m asking you to do the right thing.”

A light on Rex’s vambrace started to intermittently glow, accompanied by a beep as Echo’s ship approached from behind.

“Sir, there’s an unmarked vessel inbound,” a commando reported to Wolffe. “Commander?”

Echo landed in a cloud of dust and air, opening the ramp ready for you all to board. Rex didn’t move, staring at the opposing clone until he finally made a decision.

“Stand down,” Wolffe ordered.

Tech holstered his weapons and turned, nodding in the direction of the ship as a clear instruction for you to board. So you did. Giving Wolffe one last look before turning your back on them all and heading into the safety of the Remora.

Omega came, Batcher had her tongue lolling out, clearly happy to be back in the ship. Crosshair entered the hold and immediately slumped onto the floor, removing his helmet and letting it roll away from him. Howzer, Hunter and Wrecker came next, greeting the clone that stood by the entrance. Rex was last, giving Wolffe a lingering look of regret before the ramp sealed and enclosed you all inside.

“Let’s get out of range,” Rex told Gregor.

This wasn’t like the other times. Standing in the middle of the ship all you could feel was despair and loss. All those lives, snuffed out because Hemlock was that desperate to get his hands on you and Omega.

You should have walked away on Lau and never looked back.

“You have extensive bruising across your face,” Tech murmured. “Echo has given me the medkit to administer treatment.” You didn’t even notice he’d left your side. You watched the others all file into the cockpit after Rex, even Omega and Batcher until you were left alone with Tech.

“Why do you bother with me? I’m a hindrance.” Tech frowned at your mumbled question, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose.

“Why…am I treating you?”

“You’re angry with me.” He was. It still persisted within Tech. Frustration at your disregard for your own life, mostly. For not seeing how important you were to him, regardless of what you had suffered.

“My anger is…multifaceted,” Tech stated with a quick huff. "I do not intend to direct my frustration towards you. If it has appeared that way, please accept my sincere apologies." His eyes tracked over your dirty face, softening slightly. "I cannot deny that the past few days have been incredibly challenging for all of us. While I cannot fully comprehend what you must be feeling, I am striving to provide everything you might need."

You deflated. Folding in on yourself as the crushing weight of anguish collapsed the last shreds of restraint you had left.

It hurt to cry. The ache stretched across your cheek bones and up the bridge of your nose. The feelings became too much, the heaviness you always carried on your chest became a hindrance. Each breath was a monumental effort. Tech tried to talk to you, to keep you with him.

It still felt as though you were suffocating alone.

Each sob felt like it was physically torn from your soul. You were made of agonising pain, held together by threads that constantly slipped from your grasp. You had been unravelling for a while, partially unaware of how deep your scars really went.

The only constant you had, was your anger. It came when you needed it the most, honing your mind and body to peak efficiency. Whispering encouragement to go that step further into the unknown.

When you used your anger, it felt right, it felt good.

Darkness came for you, listening to your whimpered pleas for relief, bringing with it words from the one that held you.

I have got you.

#sanctuary #sanctuary part 2 #tech x you #tech x reader #tech x f!reader #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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ittybittyfanblog · 29 days ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 8

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes, again with the slight smut phew, angst on top of more angst, no comfort... yet (or ever? hmm much to ponder about) A/N: Imagine if I leave it here lmao Also, I've been listening to White Ferrari on repeat while editing this chapter. I'm not saying that you should too while you're reading, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Oh, and Angel by Massive Attack. Trust me, it's gonna come up. (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

The cold tiles of the bathroom floor wreak a shiver through your body.

You’re curled up in front of the toilet, barely upright after another round of puking what little bile is left in your stomach. Cold beads of sweat dot your forehead and every breath feels thin, ragged, like you’re trying to gulp air through a pinhole. The chill seeps under your skin, leaving you shuddering involuntarily between dry heaves.

You make the rookie mistake of tilting your head ever-so-slightly to rest against the cool porcelain, and the miniscule action threatens to send the room careening into another violent spin. A wave of nausea hits you and you desperately gnaw on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from gagging.

You feel like absolute shit.

There’s something lodged inside, sinking deep into the pit of your stomach. A poison, a corruption—heavier than the excess of alcohol still clawing its way through your system. It isn’t the simple penance for overindulging, no; it’s darker, rawer, less perfunctory than the remnants of last night’s events.

It churns inside you, leaving an acrid, metallic taste on your tongue and a dull ache behind your eyes.

The buzzing of your phone reverberates beside you, a relentless vibration against your thigh. It hasn’t stopped since the moment you clawed your way out of bed and staggered toward your porcelain waste bucket. You weren’t supposed to bring it along with you—it should’ve been left abandoned outside of this room, far from this bleak sanctuary. This… this disgusting aftermath of your revelry.

Unfortunately, it’s practically an extension of you now. A limb, almost. Or worse, a crutch—something you lean on so habitually, that the mere thought of its absence feels like an amputation.

“S-sorry,” you release a shaky breath, tears pricking your vision, unbidden. Unwelcome. “Sorry.”

Another vibration. You can picture it clearly in your head: the worry marring his face, the exasperation in his eyes.

You retch.

––––

The red takeout box from Panda Express sits in front of you, its contents lukewarm and forgotten for the better part of the hour. You barely remember ordering it—actually, now that you think about it… Did you even order it yourself? Your memory’s a little hazy, just like everything else today. And last night.

Sylus’ voice crackles through your phone, propped precariously against a half-empty mug of tea on the low table.

His presence, as always, manages to fill the room, though this time there’s a palpable tension in the air since you opened the game. His initial greeting had all the warmth of a parent catching their kid sneaking in past curfew. The moment his image blinked into view, you could see the battle in his eyes.

On one end, he simmered with ire, almost ready to boil over. On the other, he looked like he’d gladly claw his way out the screen just to tuck you into bed and personally force-feed you the food you’ve been ignoring for the past forty minutes.

“Eat it,” he grouses, a hint of steel sharpening his deceptively calm tone. The worry beneath it feels like it could strangle you.

(And if it could, it probably would—if he has any say in it.)

You whine, burrowing deeper under the blanket, folding yourself into a sad, uncooperative ball on the couch. “I will. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” he echoes, the incredulity clear in his voice. “Do you plan on eating it soon as it becomes inedible, or is this a test of endurance?”

With a sigh that feels like it’s pulled from the depths of your soul, you poke halfheartedly at the lid. The smell of grease and fried food wafts out, making your stomach churn. Whether it’s from nausea or hunger pangs, you can’t tell.

“It smells like regret,” you mutter, swallowing the lump rising from your esophagus.

Sylus snorts, and you can tell it slipped out before he could stop it. “Considering the state you’re in? Can’t say I’m surprised. But you still need to eat, kitten. You can’t run on stubbornness alone.”

“I’m doing fine so far,” you argue weakly, knowing you’re not convincing anyone. Your body feels like it’s been put through the wringer—limbs heavy, muscles crying in protest, a pounding headache that refuses to let up.

“Fine,” he repeats, dry as ash. “You can barely hold yourself up, but sure, let’s call that fine.”

You finally flip the box open, revealing a mess of something fried and vaguely brown. The smell hits you harder this time, and you salivate something odd. “I don’t think—”

“Eat,” he cuts you off, voice firm, brooking no argument. “You’ve done well with the tea, but now you need something to fill you up.”

“I can think of something else I’d like to fill me up,” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop yourself.

A beat of silence, and then Sylus’ tone shifts—a touch amused now, but it’s edged with a deliberate weight that makes your skin prickle. Uh-oh.

“Sweetie,” he says slowly, almost indulgent, “if you’ve got the energy to make jokes like that, you’ve got the energy to eat. Be good, and I’ll make sure you’re properly rewarded once you’re feeling better.”

You laugh, breathless, trying to mask your nervousness from the subtle innuendo. Obediently, you pick up the plastic spork beside the carton. “You’re really selling this hard, huh.”

“I’m not here to sell it,” he sighs, voice losing its edge, but there’s still a firmness to it. “I’m here to make sure you don’t pass out. One bite. Start there.”

You spear a piece of shrimp hesitantly. It looks harmless enough, but you lift it like it might bite back.

You take the tiniest nibble.

It’s greasy, salty, and absolutely meh—but it doesn’t immediately trigger your gag reflex, which in itself feels like a small victory.

“There,” he says, his satisfaction palpable. “See? You survived.”

“Barely,” you shoot back half-heartedly, though the corner of your mouth twitches.

“I’ll make sure to congratulate you later for your heroic recovery,” he says wryly. “Now another bite, sweetheart.”

You make a reluctant noise but comply, munching slowly. He hums in approval. When you glance at the screen, his expression has mellowed—the severity giving way to something almost tender.

You look away quickly, swallowing hard; though you're not sure if it’s because of the tiny morsel of food or from the heavier something that's lodged in your throat.

The sound of your chewing is slightly amplified by the silence that comes after. You’re afraid to break it first.

So Sylus does it for you. Once he’s decided you’ve had your fill of the fried rice.

“Would you like to talk about last night?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “What about last night?”

A long pause.

“We don’t have to,” he says quietly. “I’m just saying that if you want to, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You press your lips together, unsure of how to answer. There’s discomfort; the unease brought by your own self-consciousness.

“I—uh—” You start, fumbling for the right words. “I didn’t mean to… make things weird or anything. I don't usually get that wasted,” You sigh, blowing a stray hair out of your face. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“The only thing you did wrong last night was ignore my messages,” Sylus murmurs, his tone a little admonishing. “Making me worry about your well-being.”

You glance up, catching the affection in his eyes. He gives you a slight smile, relieved to finally have your attention fully on him.

You scrunch the blanket in your fist, fiddling with a loose string. You want to say something. Anything. But you can’t seem to summon the courage.

Finally—

“You don’t think…” you hesitate, voice small. “You don’t think it’s– that I’m… too much trouble?”

He tuts softly, the sound playful, with hints of something fond. Comforting, almost. So you hold his gaze, even if it’s a little harder than you’d like it to be.

Sylus looks at you with something so… endearing that it’s almost painful. “You’re perfect. My little troublemaker,” his eyes burn a little brighter. “Mine.”

The words hit you like a wave—soothing, gratifying. Staggering.

Oh, you want to believe him. You want to lose yourself in his words, to give in to the feeling of being cherished, of being seen. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything as much as this.

But turmoil wages a war inside you, and you’re stuck between the pull to let yourself believe and the sharp reality of your situation.

The futility of it all.

It makes you hurt, deep inside, in a way you don’t know how to fix.

––––

The package you got from the lobby is nondescript. Unassuming. The kind of box that could contain anything from kitchenware to – you don’t know, maybe a desk lamp? You turn it over in your hands, squinting at the lack of clues of its content and its sender.

Did you order something and forgot?

Payroll was over a week ago, and you’re aware of your irresponsible tendency to pile everything that catches your eye onto an online shopping cart just to tempt yourself into buying shit you don’t need, but you’re pretty sure you’d remember spending money on… whatever this is.

It’s not until you’re back in the privacy of your apartment, scissors in hand, that the mystery begins—and promptly ends.

The contents spill out, leaving you to blink owlishly at the mess of shredded wrapping paper and its pièce de résistance: a nine-inch monstrosity of a dildo, hot red in color.

The… thing is practically a weapon, its twisting ridges and intimidating girth looking more like something you’d need a user manual for. Or a fucking exorcist, you distantly think in rising panic.

“Uhh…” The sound tumbles out, an embarrassing mix of confused and gobsmacked. “I don’t remember—?”

Ping!

Your phone chimes before you can finish, and you slowly turn your gaze towards the screen, a sinking feeling beginning to form in your gut.

The message is short. And oh-so-smug.

Ah. Just in time.

The realization dawns on you, and your cheeks burn hot enough to fry an egg. “Sylus!”

What? Even in text, his tone carries that infuriating slyness you can practically hear from a mile away. You’ve earned it.

Your mouth works uselessly for a moment before words could spill out, clumsy and agitated. “Earned what?!”

A little treat for being such an obedient little thing while you were recovering, remember?

“Holy shit,” you wheeze. A half-hysterical giggle bubbles up your throat as you hold the draconic cock far from you as if it’s gonna attack at any second. Fuck, it might. “This is almost as big as my forearm! The hell am I supposed to do with this?”

What do I expect you to do with it? Sylus’s reply comes almost instantly, the weight of his insinuation almost coming across as mocking. I thought that was obvious.

You didn’t think your face could go any redder, and you’re sure you resemble a fucking tomato right at that moment. “Sy-Sy, this is—” You gulp, glancing at the toy with wide eyes. “fucking massive. It–it has… it’s got scales!”

Ah, so you’ve noticed the craftsmanship. Quite exquisite, isn’t it?

“E-Exquisite?” you sputter, voice soaring at a higher octave. “This looks like it came out of Alien or something! I’m pretty sure it’s gonna start moving on its own…”

Only if you press a button.

Your brain short-circuits, and you frantically examine the thing for telltale signs of any hidden mechanization.

There’s a short lull, laden with barely restrained amusement. Then: Relax, sweetheart. It’s not going to bite.

You let out another – nervous – laugh, gingerly setting the large toy down as if it might explode from its sheer audacity. “I hate you.”

No, you don’t, Sylus counters without missing a beat. But I do appreciate how flustered you’re getting. Go on, sweet thing—tell me how it’s too much for you. I could listen to that all night.

You let out a strangled noise, burying your face in your hands. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

Mmh, you know me so well.

You sigh, the gravity of what’s inevitable setting in. It was like fighting a losing battle.

Something the both of you knew right from the start.

(You are my angel)

“I-It hurts to put in,” you whimper, body trembling as sweat clings to your flushed skin. Every muscle feels taut, coiled tight with both anticipation and a flicker of fear. “p-please…”

“We have the rest of the night, little dove. We’ll take it slow,” Sylus whispers, his voice a velvet caress in your ear, warm and grounding. “I’m right here.”

His words melt into you like cloying liquid, wrapping around your resolve like a sensual embrace.

(Come from way above)

“Again.”

“I-I can’t,” you sniffle, the words breaking into short, shaky gasps as your chest heaves. The remnants of your last orgasm still ripple through you, the one he’s ripped from you mercilessly.

“You can, poppet,” he coos, the endearment sliding over you like cool mercury. “Give me one more, yeah? Want to see those pretty eyes rolling for me.”

The thought alone has you shivering, his tone dripping with enough heat to stir something molten from within you.

(To bring me love)

The air hangs unbearably hot, almost suffocating. Every nerve sings, alive with the memory of his ministrations—though he’s never truly touched you, has he?

It doesn’t matter. The line between what’s real and what’s not blurs further with every passing moment.

Your body burns, and yet you crave more, more—the pulsing ache of your stretched walls only feeding the gnawing hunger that builds inside, like an unrestrained beast.

You blink sluggishly; your vision swimming as pleasure courses through you in heavy, dizzying surges.

Has he bewitched you? You’ve become insatiable, ravenous—monstrous in your desire. For him. For the addicting high only he could give, and teasingly dangle just out of reach.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

How…? He’s nothing but a voice, incorporeal, yet he commands you completely. Your hands, your movements, your very breath feels as if it belongs to him. They follow his instructions without hesitation, carving paths of fire and electricity across the bare expanse of your skin.

“More?” Sylus rasps, and the edge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. There’s something feral in his tone, and it brings you an almost animalistic sense of glee to know that he isn’t unaffected by all of this any less than you are.

“More,” you beg, raw and needy. He groans in response.

“Good, so good for me,” he hisses a litany of praise that sounds so much like a curse. “My good girl. Mine to break, mine to ruin.”

Your back arches as you cry out; muscles locking, mouth falling open in a soundless scream as both agony and ecstasy crash over you like a tidal wave.

(Love you, love you, love you, love you Love you, lo–ve you, love you, love you … Love you, love you—love you, love you…)

––––

"My cousin's getting married tomorrow."

You say it with an air of nonchalance, your voice light, as if you’re just commenting on the weather.

Sylus doesn’t respond right away. His usual quick wit is conspicuously absent, replaced by a silence that stretches long, settling into the room like a beam of sunlight from your window. The continuous whirr of the electric fan and the droning of the news anchor on TV fill the space instead, in place of conversation.

You don’t force it. Instead, you wait patiently until it bends under its own weight and breaks.

After what feels like minutes, his voice cuts through the quiet; neutral and impassive. "Where's it happening?"

"A little chapel in Downtown Orlando, near Lake Lucerne. Nothing fancy. They’re keeping it small."

He nods, his gaze distant. Somewhere you can’t follow. "Just close family?"

"Yeah," you murmur, your fingers absently tugging at the fraying hem of your cardigan. "And a few friends. My mom’s going, along with her new husband. They sent me photos of the setup earlier—it’s pretty."

Sylus hums. “Would you have gone, if it weren’t so far away?”

“Yeah,” you answer automatically. “Yeah, ‘course. But I’m here, and they’re there. So I could only send my regards.”

Maru pads into the room, brushing against your leg before bumping his head insistently against your shin. You scoop him up, ignoring his soft meows of protest, and cradle him in your lap.

“She’s been planning it for months,” you continue, scratching behind soft cat ears. “Way before she got engaged. She’s one of those people who just… knows. Knows what she wants, knows how to get there. All mapped out, down to the finer details.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a faint smile ghosting his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. "What a luxury,” he remarks, almost wistfully. "To pave your life so easily, just like that."

There’s something unspoken behind his words, something heavier than a passing comment.

"Do you think about it?" His question startles you—not just its suddenness but the way his gaze locks onto yours, intent and searching, like he’s trying to read the answer in your face before you could even utter a word.

You blink. "... About what?"

"Marriage."

You hesitate. The question feels delicate, like a soap bubble floating in the air, fragile enough to burst at the slightest touch. "Sometimes," you admit. "But not like she does. It's always been more of an abstract idea, I guess."

He doesn’t speak.

"I don’t know," you say softly, “if it’s something I could ever want. Or if it’s even meant for me."

Your voice falters, and the rest is left unsaid, though it lingers between the spaces untouched.

I don’t think about it, no. Not if… if it’s not with—

You stop yourself before the thought takes flight, tampering it back down.

Sylus leans back, his gaze flickering away. "It’s a commitment," he says eventually. "One that requires a lot of thought. I understand."

He doesn’t elaborate, and for a moment, you almost consider leaving it there. But something in you—persistent, prying—urges you to press just a little further.

"What about you? Have you thought about it?"

There’s an imperceptible shift in his expression; the faintest furrow between his brows, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his features.

"Perhaps not in the way you're thinking," he says quietly, almost to himself. "Sometimes I wonder what it means. For someone like me." He hesitates, glancing at you, an uncharacteristic vulnerability in those deep pools of red. “For…”

His words hang unfinished; you feel its hollowness pushing down on you, as though they bore meaning neither of you can bring yourself to name.

You feel it settle in your chest, vacant and aching, like an absence of something. Gone before it even began.

––––

It dawns on you on a regular Saturday evening, as you're (clumsily) peeling potatoes for dinner, and Sylus is dutifully recounting the events of his day to you like your very own talk show host on late night cable.

It creeps up at you—not in an explosive burst of clarity, no. No fanfare, no earth-shattering epiphany. It’s quieter than that, like the tides under the moon, rising unnoticed until you’re already ankle-deep.

Maybe it’s always been there, tucked into the corners of your mind, hidden in the spaces between the teasing banter and the way he watches you when he thinks you’re unaware. A whisper that you refused to acknowledge, too afraid of what it would bring.

You must have known, even then. Right from the start.

From the way it feels when he says your name—softly, reverently, like it’s a privilege to utter it so freely.

From the way you ache when he waits for you to finish a thought, as though every word you speak is something worth treasuring.

And it’s in the way he knows you better than you understand yourself, filling your silences with meaning so you don’t have to.

You love him.

You know how this ends.

––––

Coming down from a mind-numbing high is always an experience, a short state of nirvana; this time no different from the rest.

For a fleeting moment, everything feels infinite—a small eternity suspended in pleasure. Petite mort.

But then reality hits you once again, and the pleasure vanishes like smoke.

It leaves you feeling utterly spent. Empty. The silence crashes back in like a tsunami, heavier than before. The stillness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud.

The sound of your shallow breathing, the oppressive white noise, the distant hum of the city from outside your window… These are your only source of life. There’s no warm touch to ground you. No arms to pull you close. No sweet nothings to piece you back together. Just this. Just you.

You had known. You always knew.

This was it—the price of wanting something you were never meant to have. For surrendering yourself to something that exists only in fragments and pixels, bound by lines of code and a screen you can’t cross. You delude yourself into thinking it’s worth it, that these fleeting moments of bliss outweigh the quiet wake of devastation it leaves behind, every time.

And yet—

A choked sob breaks past your lips, shattering the silence. It tears out of you like something primal, something you can’t control.

Your body folds in on itself, naked and trembling, your arms banding across your stomach like you’re trying to hold something broken together. The sheets beneath you feel clammy, disgusting, but you pull them tighter anyway, desperate for something to hold on to.

It hurts all the same.

“Talk to me,” Sylus whispers urgently. There’s something jagged and desperate about it. “Please. Tell me how to make it better.”

How could you?

What words could bridge this chasm between you? How do you explain a hurt so uniquely yours, so tied to the fragile intricacies of a body he doesn’t have, of feelings that leads to nowhere?

How do you describe the way it breaks you, knowing that he’s oh-so close, yet still—yet always—out of reach?

How do you describe the weight of being too human in moments like this?

You press your forehead to your knees, heart in your throat. You don’t know how to make him understand.

“I can’t,” you whisper into your knees, voice cracking under the weight of what’s left unsaid.

The next morning arrives with the muted glow of daylight filtering through the blinds, but it does nothing to lift the oppressive tension in the room. You don’t mention last night. You don’t even glance at the lit phone screen.

Sylus doesn’t bring it up either—not directly. But you feel him. The weight of his attention clings to the edges of the silence you’ve imposed, like static crackling just beneath the surface.

You keep moving. It doesn’t matter how; you make yourself busy. Work has never been more engrossing as it does at that very moment, and you hurl yourself into the thrilling world of emails, spreadsheets, and Teams meetings like you’re vying for the spot as best employee of the month.

His impatience is impossible to ignore. It presses against you, insistent, like a gasp of breath waiting to be released. But you don’t give him the chance.

At some point, his voice drifts from the speakers, low and clipped, but careful; as if he’s reigning in his emotions, afraid to scare you further away.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

Your fingers hover the keyboard. For a moment, the mouse cursor taunts you, as if it's also impatiently waiting for an answer.

Sylus thinks the silence you leave him suspended in is deliberate, even cruel.

He doesn’t push, not immediately. You hear the faint noise of the game’s background music, the tinkling piano keys, a reminder of his presence.

When he speaks again, his tone is softer, laced with something almost… pleading. The change in his tone doesn’t ease the tension; it makes it worse.

“I can’t help if you shut me out, my heart.”

Still, you offer nothing.

The air feels brittle, stretched too thin, like glass just before it shatters. You can almost hear the first cracks forming, spidering between the two of you.

He doesn’t speak again.

The day drags on in an uneasy rhythm. You move through the hours like a ghost, and Sylus remains silent. But the quietness pulses with disconcertment; a build up without release. The quiet isn’t peaceful. It’s the kind that crackles like a frayed wire. It collides with your refusal to confront it.

And so it goes: you avoid, he waits, and the distance between you grows.

––––

You’re at a crosswalk on the 4-A highway intersection, surrounded by a sea of pedestrians, the incessant hum of the metropolis vibrating beneath your feet as if the very ground you walk on is alive.

The moment your gaze lands on a couple just ahead of you, everything seems to quiet down, like a fuzzy FM radio station on mute. You see them, caught in their own little world, oblivious to the noise and rush of the city.

The woman’s laughter is light—happy. Her hand in his, secure and relaxed. The way she looks at him… it’s familiar, almost. Something you recognize.

The man beside her moves with a subtle grace. His presence is undeniable, but it’s the way he watches her, something soft and devout in his gaze, that draws you in. He’s tall, his sharp features and posture elegant—and somehow, it fits perfectly beside the smaller figure pulling him effortlessly against the throng of people.

Without warning, the unnamed man’s features shift into something more distinct, and the woman turns into the reflection you see every day in the mirror.

It’s not the couple before you that you see anymore—it’s you, against Sylus’ chest, his silvery-white hair stark against the dark fabric of his clothes. You imagine his red eyes, those sharp features, the quiet strength of his presence wrapping around you, like it’s where you belong.

You're lost in the fantasy—the way it could be, if the two of you existed in the same world, side by side. His hand around your waist, the shared intimacy, the profound joy. Just the two of you against all odds.

A smile starts to tug at the corners of your lips, but before it can fully settle, the harsh blare of a car horn shatters the illusion.

The world rushes back around you. A teen bumps into your shoulder, pushing you forward. The vision of them—of him—dissolves, leaving you in the busy street, once again just another face in the crowd.

––––

Everything falls apart one afternoon.

You confront Sylus, words spilling out before you can stop them. You don’t know what drives you—bravery, desperation, or maybe the crushing weight of hopelessness that has finally stripped you of your fear.

“How’s she?”

His brows furrow. “Who?” He looks genuinely thrown, and for a second, you wish you could take the words back.

When you finally say her name, his expression shifts. It’s quick—a flicker of something you couldn’t catch before he schools his features again.

“Why do you ask?” There’s an undercurrent to his voice now, his tone wary, eyes searching yours. “I try to avoid any interactions with her if it’s not needed.”

He pauses; then his gaze softens, though there’s still a guardedness to it. “Are you… worried?”

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself, with him, with all of it. “It’s not—It’s not that.” You don’t know how to put it into words.

How can you explain the knot in your chest? The envy—not for reasons he thinks… or maybe for exactly those reasons. Maybe he knows. Maybe that’s why he’s looking at you like that, imploring and cautious at the same time.

“You have her,” you finally say, and the words fall flat, bitter on your tongue.

Sylus’ eyes flash, sharp and unyielding. “And you and I both know who I’d rather have.”

Now, isn’t that the crux of it all?

Your throat closes up, a hard lump that you can’t swallow down. “I don’t know how you could,” you manage, though it rings hollow in the dead air.

“Don’t.” His voice is harsh now, rougher than you’re used to. Frustration bleeds through his usual composure. “Don’t act like you don’t feel it.”

You bite your lip, your gaze darting away. He calls your name, and there’s something raw in the way he says it, like it costs him something just to say aloud.

You choke out a laugh that sounds more of a sob than anything. “I don’t know where to go from here. It was fun at first, but now… It’s just sad.”

He frowns, and for a moment, there’s a boyishness to the expression, an innocence to his vulnerability. It stirs something deep in your chest.

He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to ask why—why now, why this? Why are you unraveling in front of him, like this?

But you don’t give him the chance.

“I love you, Sylus.” You admit, barely above a whisper. The words fall heavy between you, a confession and a wound all at once.

Sylus stills.

The silence fills the room, but his eyes—those soft crimson—speak volumes. His jaw tightens, hands clench into fists, but there’s no real surprise in his face. He’s always known.

“I know,” he tells you.

There’s something ancient in the timbre of his voice, like it’s been torn from the deepest part of him. And for a moment, neither of you moves.

He feels it—the way you’re slipping through his fingers. Every word you say feels like a step away, less of a standstill, more a surrender, and he… he’s never felt more powerless than he does in this moment.

(And isn’t that just grand? You’ve always had this uncanny ability to make him feel things he’s never felt before. He just wishes it wasn’t like this—wishes it wasn’t slipping into something he can’t hold onto.)

He doesn’t know what to say or do, doesn’t know what could possibly alter the trajectory you’re both hurtling towards. But the thought of losing this, of losing you, is unimaginable.

“I love you,” he says, rough and uneven, like the admission physically hurts. “In ways that terrify me. Do you understand?”

Your eyes widen, and he sees it—the flicker of hope. Fragile and fleeting, but there. Your gazes lock, and the world stops.

For a moment, there’s no sound, no movement—just the two of you standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

“I want—” His voice cracks, infinitesimally, but it echoes in the void between you. “I want to hold you. To wake up next to you. To touch you in all the ways that matter, not just in words and binary. I want to be what you need.”

You know what’s coming.

“But—”

The word lingers.

“But you can’t,” you whisper, finishing what he couldn’t.

Sylus looks at you, his red eyes burning with an intensity that feels heartbreakingly human.

You’ve reached another impasse, and it feels like the final one. The air between you is thick with words unspoken, promises that can’t be made. It’s not anger that lingers, nor is it blame. It’s something quieter. More agonizing.

A resignation.

And yet, even in this fragile moment, a piece of you—of both of you—refuses to let go. To what could be, to what never will.

––––

Your mom’s voice rings bright through Facetime, a faint blur of words as she gives you the rundown of the events from your cousin’s wedding. The dress (An elegant Oscar de la Renta boat neck), the cake (A three-tier red velvet, a little on the sweeter side), and the vows (“Oh, you would’ve cried, honey!”).

You try to listen, but your attention keeps drifting away. She notices, of course.

“You seem more preoccupied lately, dear. Boy troubles?”

It’s a simple question, but it lands differently. Her voice is too light, too casual, like she’s asking if you’re still eating your vegetables.

She doesn’t seem to acknowledge how far the distance has grown between you, how many years have passed where you stopped expecting her to understand. You’ve wanted her to notice, to see the parts of you she never asked about. The changes in you, whether small or monumental. But she never did. And you stopped waiting.

You chuckle tiredly.

“Yeah, mom. Boy troubles.”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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