Chapter 4 - Truths

Author's Note: Enjoy the angst. :')

~ Amina Gila

He's willing to admit, if only to himself, that he had been worried that there was a part of him that did want to carry out the orders he was given. Hearing that Wrecker went through something similar, and knowing he's still one of them, it… helps.

He still isn't planning to stay, but it does make him feel a little more confident that what he did while the chip was still in was not really him. He couldn't help it, the kid insists, and maybe, for the first time, he's willing to believe her. Not that he'd ever tell her so, of course. She has enough to deal with, without him talking to her about how he's feeling. It'll be best for everyone if he drops her off and disappears. If his brothers can do it, he can do it, too.

As often, Crosshair instinctively tenses when he thinks of them as his brothers, waiting for the automatic rejoinder of traitorskillthemgoodsoldiersfolloworders, but it never comes. It stopped coming when he got the chip out, and yet… he is… uncertain. He can't bring himself to trust that it's really, permanently gone.

Omega goes to the 'fresher once her ration bars are gone, taking her dress with her. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, because it's obvious that she's enamored by it, though why she finds the sparkly-ness of it so attractive is beyond him. It seems it would be more likely to attract attention and make the wearer a target.

He double-checks their room again to ensure its secure, before striping off his armor and piling it neatly on the floor. He'll put it back on once he uses the 'fresher, but he's been wearing it since he helped the kid escape days ago. And he wants a nice, warm shower to try and forget about their conversation. But until she's out, he'll make do with sitting on the edge of the bed and chewing on a toothpick.

The 'fresher door slides open, and the kid slowly steps out, now clad in the dress. It fits surprisingly well, and okay, maybe it's not that bad, after all. If she wears it indoors when she's not trailing after the rest on a mission. "I can't reach the buttons in the back," she complains.

"Are you planning to wear it to bed?" he asks, amused.

"… No. I just want to try it on."

Crosshair refrains from pointing out that she is already trying it on, and instead, crosses the room to her. "Turn around."

She does, and feeling terribly inadequate, he buttons the five buttons on the back of her dress. They glimmer in the light, as if they're gems, but they're not. Omega beams at him before going back into the 'fresher and turning around in front of the mirror, admiring the view. It seems so… strange to him, even if he knows that's a thing people do. And she's only a child. But it still makes him realize how wholly out of place he is. He's not someone who should be caring for her; truthfully, none of them probably should be – they're soldiers first and foremost, but… she seems to have survived thus far.

They can't be doing everything wrong.

That does not, however, mean that his parenting skills are sufficient to be around.

(That's not why he doesn't want to stay. He can't even admit it to himself – it hurts too much.)

Once she's done looking at herself – and he is totally not watching her with amusement, shut up internal voice that sounds like Hunter – she looks at him expectantly, and this time, he doesn't manage to stop the eyeroll, but he still unbuttons her dress for her, leaving her to change.

The water is warm and soothing, but it doesn't really do much to chase away the unwanted thoughts creeping into his mind, unfortunately.

He longs to have a family again, to have a place where he belongs. He longs to be surrounded by the familiarity and camaraderie of his brothers. He longs to be back on the Marauder, even if he only hides away from everyone else, chasing them off with snide remarks. He longs for it. But… he can't. He can't go back. Everything is too different now. Everything is… broken. And he doesn't think he has the ability or strength to try and mend it. When it comes to emotions, Crosshair has always found it easier to hide or run away.

And really, that's what he's doing now, even if he wants to deny it: running away.

He's focusing single-mindedly on keeping Omega safe, and it's easy to lose himself to the mindset of a mission where emotions are entirely irrelevant. But… their conversation awoke things that he's tried to hide for so long. She doesn't blame him. They don't blame him, if the kid is to be believed. And maybe worst of all, they miss him. They want him back, or at least she does. How can he tell her that it will never happen? How can he face her and say that her dreams are just that: dreams? How can he say that he's leaving her – them – and not looking back?

It aches too deeply for tears – not that he would have cried anyway. That's not who he is. If anything, he feels more numb than anything else in the face of his tumultuous emotions. He wants to be alone, but he also really doesn't, so maybe it's a good thing that he doesn't have a choice. When he leaves the 'fresher, he feels achingly numb and… distant from everything, as if he's looking through a film. It's hardly the first time it's happened, that he's shut down to cope, but it never makes him feel any less defective.

When Crosshair comes out of the 'fresher, the kid is lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her arms crossed behind her head. She doesn't say anything as he begins strapping his armor back on, and neither does he. The silence feels… deafening.

He slips his blaster under the pillow, checking everything, before laying down next to Omega. It feels strange, to have someone so close to him while he's trying to rest. But then again, he had somehow found rest with the kid leaning on his shoulder when they were on the starship that brought them here. He doesn't know what to make of her attachment to him… or of his growing feelings of protectiveness for her. He's never felt like this before towards anyone, at least not anyone that couldn't protect themselves.

His brothers are as much soldiers as he is, and he knew they could handle themselves. It's different with the kid, and it's… strange. She's small and breakable, and definitely not a soldier.

At some point, Omega falls asleep, her breathing becoming deep and slow, while his own thoughts continue to race, running in circles, around and around. She's so comfortable around him, and she doesn't fear him in the least, even if she would be wise to. He cannot be trusted. His own brothers demonstrated that on Kamino, and he can't disagree with them. He's… dangerous.

They left him behind.

(They were right to. He tried to kill them.)

Crosshair sleeps dreamlessly, and when he awakens, he shifts back to alertness almost instantly. He wakes to the warmth of a small body pressed against his side, his left arm – which is tingling – pinned down by a heavy weight. He opens his eyes, tilting his head to look at Omega, who is still sound asleep. Sometime during the night, she'd rolled over to him, and she's currently draped across him, head pillowed on his shoulder, arm thrown over his chest. Her expression is peaceful, and it makes her look so much younger. It makes her look innocent, and something clenches inside of him.

He can't help but wonder, fleetingly, if she bunks with the others like this, but dismisses the thought when familiar jealousy and resentment threaten to erupt.

It's still early, so he decides to let her rest instead of waking her. Prolonged physical contact is something he avoids – it's a weakness, he was taught on Kamino, and his childhood clinginess was firmly stamped out. Now, Wrecker makes up for the both of them with how prone he is to physical affection – but for Omega, he will endure it.

Nothing in the galaxy could induce him to admit that he actually finds it comforting, to have her curled against him, so trustingly, and he raises his other hand, lightly brushing it over her head before he can stop himself; she doesn't need to know. She doesn't need to know that it's soothing to have her here, that her presence is making the tension seep from his body.

It's at least an hour before she finally twitches, and her eyes open slowly. She blinks, gaze focusing on his face. He expected her to move, but she doesn't. She just lays there, staring at him, and he watches her, feeling uncertain.

"What time is it?" she asks, shifting, but only to fully wrap her arm around his waist and cling to him. Wonderful.

He glances at the chrono. "We still have four hours before the transport leaves. I suggest we get moving."

Technically, they have more time, but this – being so close to someone sets him on edge, for all that he might still enjoy it. He's a sniper. It was drilled into him from the time he was a young cadet that emotions are a weakness, one he cannot afford to have. Snipers, especially, cannot have emotions. It's all he's ever known for years now, and the detachment from his feelings has proven helpful at times. That doesn't mean Crosshair has to like it, and at times like this, he hates how he wars with himself, his duty and training versus his human side.

Omega's expression scrunches into a pout that is way more adorable than it has any right to be. "I'm comfortable. I don't want to move."

"My arm does," he quips, deadpan.

She giggles at that, and he can't help but smirk back, but she does roll over, freeing his arm. He shakes out the tingles in it, and they collect their few belongings before heading out of the room. They do have time, though, so instead of going for ration bars – which is their normal diet – he opts for something a little more… well, different, and takes them to an eating establishment down the street.

It's late enough that they've hopefully avoided most of the morning traffic, and he chooses seats at a table in the corner, in the shadows, sitting so they can both see the door. Strategically, it's a good location. He's never actually been in a place like this, but he knows of them.

"You order food," Crosshair explains when the kid looks at him expectantly. "Just… pick something." He points at the menu, and she eyes it as if it will bite her. Well, it's obvious that she has never been to a place like this either.

He almost regrets coming here – it was a spur of the moment thing, a whim, really – when it takes her a good fifteen minutes to finally settle on something. It's not food Crosshair has ever had before, but to him, food is food. He's not picky – it's hard to be picky when he primarily eats ration bars; it's rare that he has anything else.

"What is this?" the kid asks, poking at the variety of sweet breads with different toppings.

"It's food. You eat it."

"But what is it?"

He rolls his eyes. "I don't know. But it's not poison." It would be very bad business to poison customers, after all, even if he probably does look rather intimidating in his armor and all.

She takes a tiny bite, and her eyes light up. "I like it."

It turns out that Omega likes only certain flavors, and after watching her pick at the last two sweet breads, he pushes a berry one across her plate, swapping out her last ones for himself. She grins at him, and Crosshair feels his heart flip a little at seeing it. It has been a long time since he's felt affection like this, untouched by any resentment or bitterness. He doesn't know what to make of it, of how much she's come to mean to him over only a few days.

They leave for the spaceport once they're done eating – and she doesn't need to know just yet that he got extras for her as snacks for their trip. It'll be a surprise for later. It's as chaotic there as he expected, but the security is tight. Not tight enough to stop him, but just enough to prove a nuisance. But he knows how to keep to the shadows, and the kid sticks to his side, not straying even a step away, so they make it into the cargo hold of the massive transport. He'd checked the itinerary, and Ord Mantell is the third stop, a full sixteen hours away. They have a long journey ahead of them.

**w**

"We cannot be seen," Crosshair warns for what feels like the tenth time as they settle behind a large pile of crates, hidden from sight, but with a good enough view that he can keep a lookout.

"I know," Omega replies. Sixteen hours. Sixteen hours of not being able to move around much or do anything until they reach their destination. But she understands the importance of staying hidden, because if they're found, they'll be arrested. And killed. She shivers at the thought, pushing it firmly away.

"What will we do?" she asks what feels like an eternity of sitting silently later, though it's probably only been half an hour at most.

"Sit here," he grunts. "We can't move around unless it's necessary." He told her already that they can only take 'fresher breaks that are absolutely needed, since it will mean having to sneak from the cargo hold where no one is supposed to be in the first place, not to mention that they aren't even official passengers.

Omega sighs, and resigns herself to a long, quiet, boring trip.

That only lasts until Crosshair unslings his rifle, running his fingers over it. He glances around the corner of the crates before silently beginning to unfasten it. "What are you doing?" she whispers, careful to keep her voice down. While there aren't any security droids in here, it's better to be safe, which means making as little noise as possible.

"Taking apart my rifle," he answers. "We have a long trip with nothing to do. Do you want to see?" The question is hesitant, but it still warms her, that he's offering her something to do, to keep her distracted from the very slow passage of time.

She barely contains a squeal and scoots over next to him, ready to absorb every piece of information that he shares about his rifle. She knows how good of a sniper he is; he never misses, and he can hit targets from very long distances. It's impressive – awe-inspiring, really – and she's delighted at the prospect of learning more of his abilities.

"Can you teach me to shoot my bow when we get back?" she questions hopefully, sometime later, as he's reassembling his weapon with practiced, familiar movements. Of everyone, Crosshair would be the best teacher, since he's good with long-range weapons.

His fingers falter for a moment, and if she hadn't been watching his every move with fascinated curiosity, she might have missed it. "Maybe," he replies vaguely, tone carefully neutral.

Her heart flips and sinks, the beginnings of dread crawling into her gut as she gets the feeling that he's keeping something from her. "What?" she demands. His answer did not sound like his 'I'll-do-it-because-you're-asking-but-I'm-not-going-to-say-that' tone. She is familiar with that tone – he used it when they were shopping on Pantora. This is something different, something she hasn't heard yet.

Crosshair doesn't answer for a few long moments, as he finishes attaching the last pieces to his rifle, slinging it back in place before he settles back against the wall, crossing his arms. She wishes she could see his face.

"I'm not staying." His tone is nonchalant, but it still feels like her world just collapsed around her. He – what?

"What? You – why?" she demands, her voice rising a little above a whisper as her emotions get the best of her. She doesn't know why she didn't expect it, because he never said that he would stay. She had just assumed he would – where else could he even go? If he's not with them, where does he plan to be? He's a traitor to the Empire.

"It's for the best, Omega," Crosshair says, a little sharply.

She swallows, tears blurring her vision, no matter how stubbornly she pushes them back. She doesn't want to cry in front of him – or in front of anyone, really, if she can help it. "How?" she asks, miserably, her dreams of them all being back together thoroughly shattering. She just got him back, but it feels like she's losing him all over again. It feels like it did back on Kamino, when he first walked through the hangar door, wearing his black armor, standing against them, and they had to leave without him.

She never blamed him for his actions then – none of them do – but it still gutted her to lose him before she could ever know him. And now that she's gotten to know him, now that she's seeing more of the person he is without the chip, it's – she doesn't think she can lose him a second – a third – time.

Despite her best efforts, a tear still escapes down her face, and she turns her head away from him, even though she knows it's useless.

"Don't do this." She doesn't know what to make of his tone, can't quite interpret the emotions she hears in it, and he reaches out, lightly brushing away the tear that escaped. "I can't stay," he repeats, quieter. "It's not safe."

She sucks in a shaky breath, looking back at him. "The Empire is hunting us, too," she protests.

"Not – not that," Crosshair replies, shaking his head. "Not the Empire."

"I don't…" understand. What does he mean, then?

"It won't be safe for you if I'm there." His voice is pained, and it's the first time that Omega has heard that tone from him. He's so good at covering up his emotions that she often can't tell how he really feels. But – but now… this is hurting him too; she can hear it in his words, even if he didn't mean her to.

"Why?" she sniffs, swallowing. "You'll protect me."

He shifts back slightly, hands curling into fists. "And if it's me you need to be protected from?" he scoffs.

She stares, wide-eyed. "You would never hurt me." Even as she says the words, she remembers their conversation last night, when they were in the room.

"How certain are you that I 'couldn't help it'? How do you know that? What if I did want to?"

He crosses his arms, deliberately casual. "Bracca," he says, watching her.

And she remembers –

"Remember what I told you in the brig? You can't help it."

"Aim for the kid."

"Was that you, though?" she challenges, "Or your chip?"

"Does it matter?" he snarls, an echo of what he said on Kamino.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"This is who I am."

Omega knows that this is a part of something important, something deeper than he's letting on, but he hides it well, and she can't see through his mask. "Maybe not," she ventures, feeling as though she's plunging into the ocean, blind, with no idea which way is up, "But if it was the chip, you said it's gone, so it doesn't matter. And if it was you…" She only doesn't choke on the words through sheer willpower, at the notion that the brother she's come to know, the one who is grumpy and irritable, but who is also silently considerate and caring, could have willingly tried to kill her. "If it was you," she repeats, "It still doesn't matter because you saved me now."

Crosshair doesn't even twitch – he has too much control over himself to let any tells give him away. It's many minutes before he replies. "I took out my chip after Bracca," he admits. "I remembered what you said, and – it was damaged there, by the ship."

Omega nearly flinches, remembering the scars on his head. She had wondered if he got them there, on Bracca, but she hadn't had time to think about it, and thinking about it hurt too much. Reaching out, she touches his arm. "You saved me," she tells him again. "I know you'll never hurt me." She believes that fully, and her conviction is unshakable, but she gets the feeling that he doesn't believe it.

And she has no idea what to do about that.

She remembers how guilty Wrecker had felt after his chip was activated, the crushing realization in his eyes once he'd woken up to the full memory of what he had nearly done to her, to all of them. It had been only a short time, and none of them had been much injured, but it still took him time to shake it off. She cannot imagine how much harder this must be for Crosshair.

"I want you to stay," Omega murmurs, not knowing what else she can even say. She's not angry at him for what he did; she could never be.

"I know," he acknowledges, "But… I can't." Being stabbed would hurt less.

It hurts, like a vibroblade twisting deeper into a wound, but she won't let herself cry. She'll save her tears for later when she's alone. But now, if this is all the time she'll ever get with Crosshair, she'll make it count. Every last second.

Even though she wants to cry and beg, she won't. She can't absolve Crosshair of the guilt he carries; he has to do that alone. They don't need to forgive him; he needs to forgive himself. "We're not angry at you," Omega assures him. "None of us are." He hears her, of course, but she has no idea if he believes her.

"I'll say goodbye," he promises, "Before I leave."

The words stab into her, and it feels so final that she wants to sob. She can't bring herself to believe that he'll really leave once they get to Ord Mantell, but he will. She knows he will, and she can understand now why he didn't say anything before. If he had, she would have gone out of her way to convince him to stay. She still wants to, but he… There's something holding her back, maybe the knowledge that he doesn't want to leave her, even if he feels obligated to do so, to protect her.

It's not your fault, she wants to say. We miss you. Nothing is the same without you. Maybe we'll be safe from the threat you think you pose, but what about you? Will you be safe?

But words will only drive the knife in deeper, and she doesn't want to cry in front of him when it will only make him feel even more guilt.

In the end, she says nothing, and they sit there in a heavy silence.

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