Crosshair pressed his cheek against the cool metal of the door and listened as Hunter's footsteps retreated to the cockpit. His chest felt tight - something he had experienced only a few times before. He didn't like things that were unfamiliar and strange. Being afraid made him angry.

He heaved a breath and froze, straining to hear the soft words that floated through the barrier. So Tech was still there.

Crosshair's hand hovered over the door lock. He was inches away from beginning what he hoped would fix the mess with Hunter and others, and seconds away from deciding against the risk of making it worse.

Not making it worse, his head whispered. You're afraid of being on the wrong side of the line. Something Hunter will never forgive you for.

"I don't need forgiveness," he muttered. The room offered no reply. Silence rang in his ears like the echo of a far away scream.

Crosshair shuddered and limped back to his bunk. His leg throbbed uncomfortably, and he hissed, pressing a hand to his stinging side. The stim shot had done a good job, and the injuries were not life-threatening. He could have avoided the others noticing anything wrong if he hadn't been delayed by the karking trandoshan.

But perhaps he should be thanking the kid's persistance - he didn't want to leave yet, but he would be unable to avoid the choice once he was healed. Her enthusiasm and Hunter's obvious and leadership-stunting affection for her had certainly helped things for Crosshair. Hunter hadn't been paying attention.

He rolled onto his side. What good was delaying the cure? The others had already decided what he was about, and had already condemned him as a traitor. They couldn't be convinced. And he would not let himself be pushed into making a decision he'd regret the rest of his life.

Leaving the squad had not been his intention. They had left him behind. And now they expected him to apologize for it.

"They're all fools," he sighed.

Tucking one knee against his chest, Crosshair closed his eyes. Maybe tonight he would see something other than the pale faces of Saw Gerrara's refugees and the burning hole through Taa's brain.

Hunter might want to believe the inhibitor chip had forced Crosshair to defy his leadership and do things Hunter obviously found unacceptable. And for now, that suited Crosshair well enough. Tech's nosy tendencies had cost him a solid plan of delayed healing, although someone would have noticed eventually.

But even a day longer - a day to explain. They hadn't given him that chance. And from what he had heard, they wouldn't ever give him the chance if they found out about what had occurred shortly after his trip to Bora Vio.

It was pointless, really. It had seemed so clear when he had first approached them again. Was Hunter so dense he couldn't see beyond his own selfish goals? How could he honestly believe that what he had decided to pursue was good for the squad? And the kid?

Crosshair twisted onto his back and slid off the bunk. He limped around the room twice, again...then again. Desperation made a man do things he might laugh at with a clearer mind. But Crosshair didn't have a clear mind right now. Because if he did, Hunter had gone crazy. And that didn't seem likely. The others would all be dead by now were that the case.

There was one thing Crosshair could try, however. He had to prove somehow that he only wanted the best for Clone Force 99 - and the girl. And maybe, just maybe they would believe him if they knew that he had risked everything for them - even before they had met again in the training arena on Kamino.

Why removing the threat of the elite troopers hadn't convinced them, Crosshair wasn't sure. And they didn't know that he hadn't tried to come back to them... He had tried to get them back multiple times - on Bracca, he had tried to catch up to them, to stop them. And he had risked ever helping them again by deterring to Bora Vio with the elite troops in tow.

They could have easily turned him in to Rampart. But he had been successful. And it was only because he had properly wielded his authority from the very beginning.

Crosshair had tried to listen to Hunter, but Hunter's actions had nearly gotten the squad killed. Crosshair didn't mind so much for himself, but he could not stand by and let the others die for nothing.

He shook his head, massaging his temples.

Why couldn't he see what Hunter and the others so clearly understood? They knew something they weren't telling him. They had something he didn't.

Or maybe, he thought, they never cared...

But he cared. That was why he had been willing to risk the most important things for their sakes, even to fighting his sergeant. His own brother...

The room suddenly felt too small. Crosshair stumbled to the door and held his breath, listening carefully for any sounds outside.

All was silent.

Crosshair gingerly pulled on the fatigues again and opened the door.

The ship was dark - the cockpit was sealed. No doubt the others had been discussing him again.

Crosshair could hear Wrecker's unmistakable snoring, then someone stretched- from the sound of things, it was Echo - and Wrecker grunted as he was undoubtedly clipped on the jaw by the reg's scomp.

Crosshair smirked. So things hadn't changed...

And yet they had changed. This was something he was no longer a part of. And he didn't know how to become part of it again.

His smile faded, and he looked towards the hatch, then hesitated. It would be too loud.

Crosshair made his way towards the rear of the ship, feeling his way along the wall. He could get outside through the gunner's mount. It would be chilly and damp, but at least there would be air and open space.

His boot struck something that clattered. If Hunter didn't come out to investigate, it was only because of Wrecker's snoring, Crosshair thought, crouching slowly to find what he had struck.

His fingers closed around an elongated object - and then brushed against flat metal disc. Crosshair retrieved them both.

"Leaving your tools out, Tech?" he muttered. "You are sloppy..."

He bent over the navicomputer's dully glowing control panel to see what he held. A holotransmitter, and...a doll?

It must be the kid's. So now Hunter was letting a child throw her toys around the ship without consequence? Hunter had gone soft indeed. Soft and stupid.

Slipping the transmitter into his pocket, Crosshair started forward once more. The doll rattled softly in his hand, and he briefly considered hiding it. It would be amusing to see how long Hunter would shirk his duties as sergeant in order to hunt for the brat's doll.

The mental image of a crying Omega flickered through his mind, and he dismissed the half-hearted notion without a second thought. It was always a challenge to test people's limits, but the effects of such an action would produce unwanted tension and noise. Although if a missing doll would cause the girl to throw a fit, she probably deserved to have her toy hidden.

Crosshair pulled himself slowly up the ladder to the gunner's mount and frowned. His previous thoughts hadn't afforded him as much amusement as scheming against his brother's usually did.

His brothers...

But the kid wasn't one of them. She was not someone to be cautious of, for whatever reason, Crosshair didn't know. Perhaps because she wasn't one of them. An outsider...like Crosshair was now.

Something soft brushed Crosshair's nose and he swatted briefly with his hand. A curtain hung down above the ladder. He pushed it aside and pulled himself up the last step. Was Hunter letting the kid decorate the ship now?

He crawled forward and froze as his hand brushed something on its way to the floor. It was too late to pull back.

"Oh, no," he breathed, and hung his head in exasperation, waiting for the inevitable.

There was a soft, sleepy hum, and then Omega was looking up at him, her silhouette visible in the faint gray light outside.

"Crosshair?"