Chapter 5 - Reunion

Author's Note: Don't give up hope. There's a happy ending, I promise. It's just a little hard for the characters to get there. Lol.

Also, there's one chapter left. ^-^

~ Amina Gila

It is probably a good thing, Crosshair thinks, that he didn't tell the kid any sooner about his resolution. Seeing her cry, because of him, tore at him. (He'll never admit that his first thought was 'Hunter is going to kill me' for hurting her.)

She's been quiet, miserable, and it's all because of him. But… he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't think he has the strength to go back to his squad as if nothing happened, as if he didn't spend so long, willingly or not, hunting them down. Most of all, he can't take the chance that the kid could be hurt. Leaving would be better, safer. He wouldn't need to lie awake, wondering if tonight will be the night that he snaps again. He doesn't know what the Empire did to his brain. He doesn't know.

He can't – he can't trust himself not to hurt them again, or try to, at least. Wrecker didn't get his head picked at by the Kaminoans. He didn't have them screwing with his brain. Crosshair did, though. What they did, he had to believe that they did it for a reason, and maybe they did, but in the end, his family is more important to him. He couldn't stay with the Empire and let the kid die. Even if the whole thing was just a trap from the beginning, he finds that… he doesn't care.

Getting Omega out of there, spending time with her, it made it all worth it, that he betrayed the Empire and is now a traitor. From the outset, he knew it wouldn't last, because she has his brothers, and he doesn't belong there, but it had been nice to pretend for a little while. It wasn't supposed to hurt her, but then again, it was probably inevitable. Even before, on Kamino, before they left him, it was obvious to him that she cared.

"You're still their brother, Crosshair. You're my brother too."

She cared before she even knew him, before she ever spent time with him. And it's so – it's so different from anything he's ever experienced. His brothers care because they grew up together, except Echo, but that's a whole other story. The bonds between them run deep. Omega is… an outlier. She's a child, too, and she deserves a better protector than someone like him.

Finally, when the heavy, depressed silence becomes too much for him, he withdraws one of the sweet breads – berry, of course; he noticed it was her favorite – wrapped in a napkin and hands it to her. She takes it wordlessly and stares at it. He doesn't miss the faint sheen of tears in her eyes, or the way she bites her lower lip to keep it from trembling. For a child, her control is admirable.

But it hurts to see her hurt, knowing that he can do nothing to ease that pain or take it away.

Perhaps, he realizes grimly, it would have been better if he'd treated her with the same sharp coldness that he does everyone. And yes, it would have hurt her, but she would have hated him by the time he got her back to Ord Mantell. That would have been far kinder to her than showing her affection and walking away.

She nibbles at the food, and no matter how smothering and suffocating the quiet may be, neither of them breaks it. Crosshair doesn't even know what he could say to her anyway; nothing short of an apology and reversing his decision will be enough.

The silence lingers for hours, with only the occasional movement – and one 'fresher trip – but they don't really speak. He can tell she's still upset, and she's trying to respect his decision and not beg him to reconsider. For all that he appreciates it, a part of him wishes that she would, if only so that they could talk. It's funny, because the silence has never bothered him in the past. He used to seek it out instead, preferring solitude to the company of others.

He shouldn't have told her. He should have waited until they arrived. It would have made these moments easier, where they could be together without the strain of their impending separation hanging over them. Or maybe he's just being selfish.

At some point, Omega dozes off, and he slides closer so she can lean on him.

It seems that even her unconscious mind recognizes him, because she curls closer, sending a pang through his chest. He doesn't want to leave her.

The kid wakens when the transport reaches the second stop, the shuddering of the durasteel beneath them as it touches down rousing her. She doesn't seem inclined to move though, because she keeps her head on his shoulder, leaning against him. "How much longer?" she inquires.

"Five hours," he estimates.

"That's not long enough," she mumbles quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

I'm sorry, he wants to say, but doesn't, because he isn't, not really. He's sorry that he'll hurt her, but he's not sorry that he's leaving her. If it keeps her safe –

Her safety matters most.

"Crosshair, what were the Clone Wars like?" The question is soft, filled with the familiar curiosity to which he's become accustomed.

"War," he deadpans.

"But what was it like?" she persists, and something in his heart cracks. He doesn't know if he has the ability to reminisce, to think about the past when he was with his squad, without shattering.

"I'm sure you've already heard the stories," he deflects.

"But I want to hear them from you. Please?"

He ought to reject her, push her away, wait until they get to Ord Mantell before leaving her entirely. He doesn't. Maybe it's because of the 'please?' or maybe it's just the realization that this will be the only time he can actually tell her things from the past, things from his perspective, because he absolutely does not trust his brothers not to misremember details in ways that are less embarrassing to them. Or maybe it's just the knowledge that whatever time they have here is all that they'll have, so it would be best to make good memories for the future.

So he does. He tells her stories from the Clone Wars, stories from when he and his brothers were still cadets in training. He tells her about missions, about isolated incidents: some amusing, some embarrassing, some downright scary, but he tries to avoid anything that's too depressing – for her, at least, because even thinking back to those moments in the past feels like his heart is being pulverized over and over.

He's been separated from his family, and there is nothing strong enough to bring them back together, not when there's so much… wrong.

(He doesn't trust himself, for all that he's struggled to deny it, to hide it even to himself, but spending so much time around Omega, he couldn't hide from the very real fear choking him that he would lose his mind and try to kill her when there's no one around to save her.)

He tells her about when they got Echo, about their meeting with Rex – because he remembers her mentioning Rex having been with them at some point. He talks about the Jedi General they fought with, too. Of all the Jedi he's seen, General Skywalker always stood out to him the most, because he was the first and only Jedi who fought with them side-by-side, the only one they served with instead of for. And he's heard stories of him from Echo; if he's to be believed, he and his general were close friends.

He talks more than he has in a long time, and he can only hope that the kid can't see the pain and grief weighing him down as he makes scathing remarks about the rest of his squad – and he will deny it for eternity that a part of him waits automatically to hear their equally biting or sarcastic comebacks. Some wounds, he thinks bitterly, never heal. They can only be hidden over, buried, but they'll always be there.

It's equal parts relieving and depressing when the transport finally makes it's stop on Ord Mantell. Crosshair stands, holding out a hand to Omega – he doesn't know why he does it; she can stand fine on her own – and leading her from the starship.

Getting off is far easier than getting on was, probably because Ord Mantell does not appear to have any Imperial presence here, which is a good thing. It means that his family will be safe here – and maybe he will be too, if he chooses to hide here for a time before venturing elsewhere.

"Where are they?" he asks, looking down at the kid, memorizing her face and burning it into his mind for the future. He can remember his brothers without even trying, and he wants, if only to himself, to be able to recall her the same way.

"Um…" she looks around, frowning. "We should find Cid's. We can backtrack to the docking bay from there."

It takes a while to find it, at least an hour before Omega finally recognizes their surroundings, and it's quick from there – or at least it would have been quick if the kid wasn't walking so slowly. It's obvious that she's unhappy, and she's trying to linger as long as possible, no matter how excited she must be to see the others again.

And truthfully, Crosshair feels the same. Their time together was so short, and now, it's over. He can't – he can't stay. Not after… everything.

He stands concealed in the shadows when they finally arrive at the docking bay in question, and he can't quite stop his heart from stuttering when he sees the familiar sight of the Marauder. The ramp is lowered, and no matter how desperately he wants to go there, to remember what it like to be there –

No.

Omega stands there, torn, looking between him and the ship. "Are you leaving?" she asks, trying and failing to keep her voice even. It's trembling, and she's visibly trying to keep herself from crying.

"Not yet," he blurts out before he can think better of it. "I'll say goodbye before I go. I promise."

She looks at him, eyes narrowing, as if trying to decide if he's being genuine. "Okay," she whispers, stepping through the doorway into the sunlight before straightening as she approaches the ship that had once been his home and is now hers.

**w**

Omega glances back once, but Crosshair has melted into the shadows, and she can barely make out the outline of his form as he watches her. It makes her feel protected, safe, to know that he's there, watching over her, and it's not until now that she realizes how empty everything had truly been. She had known it from the way the others were, from Tech's increasing overprotectiveness and riskiness that bordered on suicidal, to Hunter's silent brooding and self-doubts, to Wrecker's hovering near the crate that contains Crosshair's armor and weapons, to Echo's grim determination that they need to do more.

She had known something was missing, had known that something was horribly out of place. But it's not until now, with Crosshair watching her from a distance – he's the sniper; he's always watching over them from above – that she realizes how much everything had been wrong. It feels right now, for the first time ever, and… that rightness will disappear as soon as her wayward, lost brother does. She tries not to think of it and lets herself focus solely on her excitement at being home again.

Her injuries are mostly healed, even the major bruise on her side, which is now just a yellow-brown, and while the mental scars are a whole other story, they don't matter right now. All that matters is that she's home.

Omega climbs the steps to the Marauder, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She walks lightly, feeling uncertain, but the moment she's inside, relief washes over so hard that she nearly sways from the force of it. It's really true. She's home.

She follows the sound of voices which lead to the cockpit. The door is open, and she takes a fortifying breath before stepping forwards. They don't see her immediately, and she has a moment to see them, to see the exhaustion on their faces, in their postures, the fear and desperation in them, and it makes her hurt, knowing that she's the cause of it.

"Hunter," she breathes, and everyone freezes at once.

"Omega?" Hunter's voice is faint, disbelieving.

"I'm okay," she assures before anyone can ask, and he surges forwards, wrapping her in a hug so tight that she almost can't breathe, but she doesn't care. She's too happy to be back, and she clings to him, soaking in the warmth and protectiveness of his presence.

The other three are throwing out questions so fast that it's making her head spin, and she'll explain everything in a minute, but right now, she needs this. She rests her head on Hunter's shoulder and clings to him tightly. No one could pull her off if they tried.

His grip loosens finally, and she squeaks in surprised delight as Wrecker pulls her away, lifting her into the air in a bone-crushing hug. This time, she can't breathe. But she throws her arms around his neck anyways, squeezing him back.

"What happened?" asks Hunter – the third, or maybe fourth, time she's been asked that.

She squirms away from Wrecker so she can hug Echo and Tech too, even if they're more reserved about physical displays of affection. It reminds her that, for all the closeness she and Crosshair had, she hasn't hugged him yet; she wasn't sure how he'd react, and she vows to do it anyway before he goes.

But that's a thought she hastily banishes. She can face it later.

"We know you were captured by a bounty hunter," Tech interjects, "And we know he handed you over to the Empire. We've been looking for you, but we couldn't find any traces."

She doubts they slept, either. They certainly don't look like they have. They look dead on their feet. "I'm Force sensitive apparently," she explains, feeling Hunter's hand land on her shoulder. She looks up at him, glancing around at the others. "That's why they wanted me. Clones have never been Force sensitive before. They wanted to figure out how to… replicate it."

A shadow passes across Hunter's face, probably at the prospect of what she's been through.

"How'd you get away?" Wrecker wants to know.

Omega sucks in a deep breath. "Crosshair rescued me."

Dead silence.

"He… did?" Hunter's voice is strained suddenly, and no one seems certain how to react to that.

She nods. "He got me out of there, brought me all the way back." He's here, outside, but he's planning to leave again, she doesn't add. If she says that, she'll break down, and she can't do that right now.

"He's here?" Wrecker bursts out, and before anyone has a chance to say anything, he disappears from the cockpit. Omega leans forwards though she can't see much through the viewport, and she can see Wrecker looking around the hangar bay. He comes back in, looking disappointed. "I didn't see him."

Four pairs of eyes are focused on her again, and she looks down at the floor. "He's not staying. He said –" Her voice catches, but she pushes forward. "He said that it wouldn't be safe… for us."

"Why?" Echo demands, shocked. "Why would he think that?"

"I…" she trails off, chewing on her lip, trying to put the unspoken things into words. Crosshair had never given her a clear answer. "I told him that what he did under the chip wasn't his fault. I don't think he believes me."

"If my assumptions are correct," Tech ventures, "Crosshair undoubtedly feels guilt for his actions against us while he was under the control of the inhibitor chip. He is afraid of losing control and hurting us, so he thinks it would be best if he left."

"But he said the chip was out," Hunter reminds. "We don't know when he took it out."

"After Bracca," Omega tells him, shrugging when they look at her with surprise. "We talked. A lot." Her brothers are looking at each other, exchanging glances, communicating silently no doubt. "He's still around," she adds. "He said he'll say goodbye to me before leaving." She can't explain the sudden wave of anxiety that washes over her, at the thought that he's already gone, that he left without saying anything.

Maybe Echo picks up on it, because he says, "We can go look."

They crowd outside, and she doesn't miss the way that Hunter and Wrecker, especially, stay no more than a few steps from her, though all of them are hovering close. They probably will be for a while, too. Her gaze zeroes in on the place where Crosshair had been standing. He's not there in the shadows. She takes a couple steps from the bottom of the ramp, a prickling fear crawling down her spine. She doesn't think he would have lied to her, but –

"Crosshair?"

There's no answer, though, and she scans the hangar, searching for his form, which has become so familiar to her. She doesn't see him.

"He'll be back," Hunter assures, touching her shoulder.

She knows that, believes that firmly, but it's not his current disappearance that makes her eyes well with tears. It's… everything. The knowledge that he'll be leaving combined with everything which has happened to her over the past few weeks. Crosshair hasn't even left yet, and she's already missing him.

"Why don't you go inside?" Hunter says gently, and she nods, swallowing, trying to blink away the tears that threaten to fall.

"I think there's some Mantell Mix lying around," Wrecker offers, picking up on the downward spiral of her emotions, and he tuck her against him, turning them towards the ship.

"I can go get some if you want," Echo suggests.

She's so relieved to have them here, all of them, together, but there's an ache in her that their presences alone can't fill. But she doesn't say anything and lets them pull her back into the safety of the Marauder.

Once inside, Omega goes to her backpack – the one Crosshair got for her – to pull out her new tooka doll to show Wrecker. Tech is hovering nearby, not saying anything, but she knows that he's alert, attuned to her every movement. She stills entirely when, in the top, she finds a napkin-wrapped sweet bread like the ones Crosshair got for her from Pantora. It's something so thoughtful, something that she could never have expected from her wayward brother until he helped her escape, until they went through everything together that they did.

And maybe it's that seemingly innocuous gesture that sends her over the edge entirely.

A quiet, choked sob escapes from her before she can stop it, and she shoves it back inside, determined to deal with it later, digging deeper and pulling out the stuffed tooka – she's going to name her Tula – as the first tears slide down her face.

"Crosshair got that for you?" Wrecker asks, as she stares at it, stroking its soft, downy surface.

She nods, a tear dripping from her face onto it as she tucks it close. Wrecker doesn't need to be asked before wrapping her in a hug while she rests her face against his chest plate and cries. From the relief that she's safe. From the terror that she'd experienced during her separation from her brothers. From the knowledge that Crosshair will soon be gone, and she'll probably never see him again.

It's at least a minute before she feels Echo's hand on her back, just touching her lightly, a silent reminder that he's there. Tech, too, comes closer, leaning on the wall next to Wrecker, close enough that Omega can see him if she peeks out of the corner of her eye. The only one missing – other than Crosshair himself – is Hunter, but he's out there, right outside the Marauder, watching over them all.

Her brothers are there, holding her together as she finally lets herself fall apart in the safety of the only place that she's ever called home.

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