Summary: "He knows he's only going through the motions, putting little thought into what he's been doing." The Batch struggles to come to terms with Crosshair's actions against them. It turns out Tech isn't the only one blaming himself. One-shot. Set after S1E1.
Prompt: Write a story about a character who's trying to fill an empty space, literally or metaphorically.
Lost In A Dark Galaxy
It's strange- quiet.
The Havoc Marauder is usually filled with the familiar, teasing banter of his middle-elder brothers, the pair bickering over the most trivial of things. But their voices do not speak, nor do the voices of his eldest brothers scold them- because there's nothing to scold.
Instead, there is only the soft snores of the others, those who remain. Hunter, Echo, Wrecker- and, now, Omega. But not Crosshair.
Crosshair is gone.
Not dead, but well beyond their reach.
The Marauder is quiet without her sniper.
Tech's goggles sit above his eyes, strapped to his forehead. His vision is blurred without the lenses to enhance his eyesight, but he's not looking at anything anyway. He's just sitting there, in his seat in the cockpit, staring at the stars that slice through space towards them.
He doesn't like Crosshair's absence. His brother has always been a critical part of the team, and not just because of his sharpshooting skills and his keen eyesight. He was their brother.
And he had tried to kill them.
Tech wishes he could understand why.
They've all been completely fine- enthused at times, even- with disobeying orders. But Order 66 is called and a single Jedi padawan escapes, and then Crosshair's completely losing it, forgetting all the times they fought side by side.
It doesn't make sense.
Tech's head hurts. He's beginning to overthink it again.
He sighs, rubs at his temples unhappily.
He rises from his chair. He's tired, he should sleep. He knows he's only going through the motions, putting little thought into what he's been doing.
He blindly stumbles from the cockpit, almost trips over the form of Wrecker sprawled across the floor just outside. He can't even complain, wishes he has that carelessness in him. He catches sight of the light blue of Omega's sleeve hanging over the armrest of the gunner's seat, knows she's sleeping there. He continues to the bunkroom, where Echo's snoring almost as loud as Wrecker is, his scomp arm hanging over the edge of his bed.
Hunter's sitting on Crosshair's bunk, an open case set across his lap. His fingers trace a shape cut in the foam inside. Tech doesn't have to put on his goggles to know what the case is- it's Crosshair's weapon kit.
"Hey, Tech." His brother murmurs, glancing up at him.
He gives a silent nod of greeting, using Echo's being asleep to mask his lack of desire to speak, sits down on his own bunk- which happens to be directly across from Crosshair's, it's strange waking up and seeing it empty- and absently pulling out his datapad to scroll through.
"Why do you think he did it?" Hunter asks, breaking the silence moments after it resumes.
Tech wordlessly shrugs. He doesn't know. He's not all knowing, as much as he sometimes wishes. If he was, he could've prevented all of this.
"You alright? You've been pretty quiet since it happened."
"Everyone has been quiet since it happened, Hunter." He sighs.
"I guess so." The sergeant huffs. "Do you think he meant to kill any of us?"
"He shot Wrecker." Tech bluntly reminds him.
"I get why you're upset-"
"Upset?"
"It's my fault." Hunter claims. "I was with him when we went after the Jedi, I should have realized something was off about him when he kept trying to kill the kid."
"How could that possibly be your fault?" Tech frowns, still refusing to look up from his datapad, even if he's not really reading the file on the screen. It is mine. I am supposed to be the observant one, making sure we are all in top condition. I should have kept a closer eye on him.
His brother's eyes widen in surprise. "You…? Are we seriously going to debate who's fault it is?"
"No, that would wake Echo." They both know how much Echo cherishes his sleep.
"Tech, put the datapad away."
"It doesn't matter, Hunter."
"It does to me." His brother tells him. He pauses, waits for Tech to look at him, sighs when he doesn't. "Look, Tech. You shouldn't blame yourself for this. His actions are not your fault."
Why haven't you said his name since it happened? Tech bitterly wonders. Instead, he mumbles out something about Hunter not blaming himself either.
"I'm supposed to look out for all of you." Hunter insists. "I...I guess I did a poor job at it."
"He is not dead." He snaps, finally turning to glare at his brother, freezing as Echo's snores come to a halt. He waits a moment, and then continues. His voice is a desperate hiss when he speaks again. "You did not fail Crosshair. He...he failed us. We all failed him."
The sergeant clicks the blaster case shut, sets it aside, leans forward on his knees. "I'm sorry, Tech. I just...I just don't know how to deal with all of this. Everything's so different now. I never imagined that we would be on the run from one of our own, in exile from everything we've ever known."
Tech's suddenly tired again, and he sighs, powers off his briefly-forgotten datapad. "I know. I'm sorry, Hunter." He blinks his burning eyes. "I fear this is only just the beginning, and I am so tired of it already."
"That makes two of us." Hunter lets a moment filled of Echo's resumed slumbering go by. "We'll pull through it. We always do."
Hunter's right.
Life begins to trickle back into all of them soon enough, even if Crosshair is still gone.
And when they learn of the inhibitor chips, Tech knows they'll get him back.