Part 2

Author's Note: Yes, there's a bit of an open ending on this one, but there was supposed to be. :) No, we're not planning a sequel in this universe. ^-^

~ Amina Gila

Crosshair doesn't know how long they're like that, with Wrecker feeding from him, when his ears pick up the quiet discussion between Hunter and Tech. "– don't want to do that to you, Tech," Hunter is saying, almost annoyed, his thoughts filled with an underlying fear of failing all of them like before. It doesn't take an expert to guess what the "before" probably is.

"It is the only option," Tech argues. "You are all changing, and it only makes sense for you to bite me."

"But what if something goes wrong?" Hunter demands, his voice rising. "There won't be anyone else here to take care of Omega!"

Tech actually pauses at that. "Crosshair is fine," he answers finally, "And he has been fine ever since this first happened to him. I do not think we have cause for concern."

But what if we do? Hunter doesn't say, but Crosshair can hear it as if he did. And deeper, there's the demand of protect that comforts him. He's always known that Hunter would protect them – it was what he did and losing that had hurt. It had been hard, and he hadn't known how to cope with it. He still doesn't.

Wrecker pats his arm. "Don't worry," he murmurs, though because it's Wrecker speaking, it's hardly a murmur, "Ya can stay with us."

Hunter and Tech both shut up at that, eyes flicking towards the two of them, and Crosshair feels himself flushing, so he drops his head on Wrecker's shoulder and refuses to look back.

"What's it like to be able to read someone's thoughts?" Omega queries curiously, leaning closer.

"Loud," says Crosshair at the same time Wrecker says, "cool."

"I can't control it," Crosshair elaborates, "It's… different."

"I like it," Wrecker voices, lifting his head again. Maybe he's not as feral, hungry, whatever as Crosshair was, because once he started feeding on Hunter, nothing could have pulled him off.

He… will need to figure out how to shield his thoughts and fast, because there are so many things he doesn't especially want to start broadcasting to his brothers. Of course, that sends his mind down the tangent of what those things are. Some of them are stupid though, little pranks that he played and then vehemently denied playing on them when they were little. Some are… more important. Bracca flashes through his mind, the searing pain of the ion engine as it burned him, and he shoves that back hard, but not before Wrecker stiffens and lifts his head, expression stricken.

"That was because of us?" He sounds horrified and so guilty, and it makes Crosshair wonder if the explosives were his idea. Probably, if he had to guess. This is Wrecker, after all.

"It doesn't matter," he grinds out, immediately defensive. He can't help it. He doesn't want to talk about it, not to them, and certainly not as memories flicker up on the edge of his consciousness, remembering the pain he'd felt, the anger, the betrayal. It had all been a mess then, and it all still is a mess, but it's different now that he's… something.

"Of course, it matters," Wrecker argues, fingers tightly brushing the scar on his temple, and he flinches, wrenching himself back. Wrecker lets him go immediately, and he scrambles backward, putting distance between them, chest heaving.

"It doesn't matter," he snarls, angry though he can't even say why. His mind is slowly becoming his own again, and maybe that's it. Maybe the comfort he'd felt was only ever just false, just a side-effect of whatever this is, and the… spell is ending. (Maybe he's just hiding his pain and hurt under anger.)

Wrecker's expression shifts, and he looks helplessly towards Hunter and Tech, who are now watching also. From their position, it's pretty obvious that Hunter gave in and started feeding on Tech at some point, though Crosshair hadn't noticed. They're all watching him now, though, and he hates it. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want them to know about that, doesn't want them to know about Kamino either, because none of it matters. They can't fix it. They can't change the scars, can't change that he was left on that stupid landing platform for so long, for thirty-two rotations, can't change that he hates water now because of it, hates getting wet.

Hunter makes a quiet, strangled, wounded noise. "Thirty-two rotations?" he whispers, and Cosshair can't hear his thoughts over the tangled mess of his own.

"It doesn't matter," he repeats, eyes narrowed, daring them to argue it. In the whole scheme of things, it makes no difference. He endured it and survived it, and that's what matters. It doesn't matter how much it hurt, doesn't matter that he once wondered if he should have left with them, even if his own sense of responsibility pushed him to turn them over later on, doesn't matter how much he's hated every moment of his existence since – since things changed, since he started having thoughts of hurting them.

He'd been angry when Hunter hadn't followed the order to kill the Jedi, not because he cared, not because it was an order and good soldiers followed orders, but because his mind had begun to wander down paths that make him angry, angry at himself. He'd started to question… them, started to have violent, dark thoughts that terrified him, because it was wrong and those were his brothers what was wrong with him –

"You know, that wasn't your fault, at the beginning," Hunter says slowly. "You had the chip."

Ah. Yes. The chip, as if that somehow makes a difference and explains everything away and makes him blameless. Ha. Crosshair looks away, not answering. There's nothing he can say to that anyway. Maybe coming here was a mistake.

Wrecker flinches. "Don't say that."

"I didn't say anything," he deadpans, shifting backward. He doesn't belong here, with them. He never did. Somehow, when the hunger came and instinct took over, he'd forgotten that, because he's only ever had them. He's never had anyone else, and he might want to stay – where would he go anyway? – but – but –

"Crosshair don't." It's Hunter, his voice just shy of begging, and Crosshair can't look at the hurt in his eyes, or hear the pain in his thoughts without feeling even more guilty.

"You know it's true," he argues numbly. "You know I don't…" belong here. He tried to kill them. Repeatedly.

Hunter's expression is pained. "Yeah," he agrees grudgingly, "You did, but…" You're still one of us. We miss you we want you with us we always have there's always a place for you here. I can't stop you from walking away, but please –

"I feel like I am missing over half of this conversation," Tech grumbles, adjusting his goggles, as he exchanges looks with Omega, but Crosshair doesn't look away from Hunter, or from Wrecker. This isn't something he can talk about verbally, or preferably at all, but if they must discuss it, at least they can do it via the thoughts they can't hide.

I'm sorry, he thinks, helplessly, desperately, furiously blinking away the unwanted tears that sting his eyes. He hurt them, and it doesn't matter if he had a chip, or if he didn't. It doesn't matter whether or not it's real. It only matters that he did it, because he can vividly recall every moment, choosing to raise his weapons against them, to try and kill them. He chose that. He could have made a different choice, should have made a different choice, but he didn't, and he can't just go back from it, like he didn't do it, and he has to live with it now, with all of his choices and their consequences no matter how much it hurts. This isn't something Hunter can protect him from, like he always did in the past.

Hunter sucks in a breath. "Is leaving really what you want?" His voice is level, open, but Crosshair can still clearly hear the clamoring thoughts of you can't leave us don't leave us please don't leave, no matter how much he's trying to bury those thoughts down. Stars, is this always what his head is like? Saying one thing, giving them choices, while he's thinking and wanting the exact opposite? It makes him feel strangely protective, but he doesn't know how to act on that instinct, if he even can, if it would even be wanted. (But oh, he wants to. Hunter is his; they're all his, and he's theirs and they belong together but he's not one of them –)

"It would be best," he answers, even though every fiber of his being is screaming to do the exact opposite.

Omega jumps to her feet, finally understanding what's going on. "But you can't just leave!" she protests. "Where would you even go? You – you left the Empire, right? You can't just go back."

"How perceptive," he sneers, angry at her and at all of them, and at himself most of all.

"Omega is right," Tech states. "You have no means of transportation, do you? And you have no place to go. You do not even know how to live a different life, do you?"

"I'll figure it out," he answers stubbornly. After all, they did. But they have Hunter, whispers his mind, and you have no one.

Hunter raises his hands, a gesture he often uses to get them, or someone, to calm down, to take a step back and think. "Don't do anything rashly," he suggests, his eyes unerringly fixed on Crosshair. "Don't – just take a moment to actually think about it. It's not… realistic."

"We don't know what's happening to ya," Wrecker adds, "Or to us. Until we know, it'll be safer for you here."

His jaw clenches. Safer for him maybe, but not for them. Ever since Kaller, he'd known it wasn't safe for them to be with him, no matter how much he'd wanted it, obsessed over it. He'd wanted them to join the Empire, to follow orders, because he thought that could wipe away the cold deadness inside of him, that it would be enough to bring them back together. It doesn't make sense, these feelings. It's never made sense.

"When'd you get the chip out?" Wrecker questions, face filled with confusion. "I thought it was… impossible." That's what Rex said.

Rex? He's alive? They know him? Crosshair blinks, his mind finally, for the first time, registering the glaring absence of the last member of their squad. "… Where's Echo?"

All of them still, and he feels from more than one of them thoughts of how did you only just notice. He hasn't been in his right mind for a while, though, and he thought Echo was with the Marauder, wherever it is, but granted, they don't usually leave him on guard. He's been too distracted to really… notice that, or even the details of how different their armor is. He takes a moment to just look at them, taking it all in, the differences, letting it sink in that they're different.

Of course, they are, but it still starts up an aching hurt in his chest, one which is unfair and unreasonable, and he firmly tries to squash it down, though it stubbornly refuses to die.

He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want them to know.

"Echo's…" Tech trails off, looking at Hunter for confirmation, only continuing when he nods, "He's away. He did not want to remain in hiding like we have been, and he left to… follow another path."

For some reason, that makes Crosshair unreasonably angry, as though he himself didn't leave them, too. It hurts, too, knowing that Echo chose to fight the Empire openly, to fight him. What if he'd been sent after him?! Sure, maybe he wasn't, maybe the Empire has no idea Echo is involved, but still.

And they have more important concerns anyway, like, "where's the Marauder?" he asks, pointedly looking around.

Suddenly, none of his brothers are looking at him, exchanging sheepish, embarrassed, mildly angry looks. … What did they do?

"It was… stolen," Hunter relents finally, and Crosshair raises an eyebrow at him.

"Do I even want to know how you're planning to leave the planet without our ship?"

Belatedly, he realizes that he said our, as if it's still his home – and it is, in a sense, because he's never known any other, not other than Kamino which is now gone, and home, for him, has always meant his brothers. Always. Even in his darkest moments, when he'd been angry enough to want to kill them, when he'd actually tried to kill them, a part of him had still known that they were home, and he'd been as angry at them for taking that from him, for leaving him all alone as he had been at himself for wanting it back as fiercely as he did.

He carefully avoids the soft fondness in Hunter's eyes that's mingled with hurt – he heard those thoughts, of course, bits and pieces, no doubt, enough for him to know how Crosshair feels – and looks to Tech instead.

"That is why we came here," Tech informs him, gesturing around. "We had hoped to find transport here."

Crosshair wishes he had a toothpick. It's stupid, but he does, because his unimpressed look is so much better with one. Hunter makes a quiet, choked noise that he suspects is a suppressed laugh, and he chooses to ignore it. "It's abandoned."

Tech adjusts his goggles, giving him an unimpressed look right back. "We are aware. That is why we were attempting to repair that skiff before you regained consciousness." He points to the skiff – apparently – that Crosshair had genuinely thought was junk.

"Ah," he says, injecting as much scathing sarcasm into the words as he can, "That was your brilliant idea. I don't know why I even missed you. How are you even still alive?"

Hunter breathes in slowly like he's asking for patience, but his thoughts are telling a wholly different story. – missed him so much even his sarcasm maybe especially that. Crosshair wills himself not to be affected, or at least not to show how affected he is. "It's been… easier with the Empire not hunting us constantly," he answers. "They stopped looking after… Kamino." Was that because of you? But he doesn't say it.

There's a pause, and then, Hunter's eyes narrow consideringly. "You never did answer how you got your chip out."

Now, he really wants a toothpick. He… has no idea how to answer that question.

Wrecker blinks. "Why not? Don't ya know?"

Uh… no?

Hunter jerks. "No, what?" he demands, and Omega's eyes widen, her gaze darting from Crosshair to the others and back again. "No, you don't know, or no, you didn't."

"Does it even matter?" he asks, a deliberate echo of what he said to them on Kamino.

Hunter's jaw clenches. "Yes."

Crosshair sighs, folding his arms across his chest. "Even if the chips are real, even if they didn't take mine out, it doesn't change what I did to you, and it doesn't make it any less my choice."

Their reactions are varied, but the common thought he senses is one of tentative hope. "So… you didn't get it out?" Wrecker queries.

Can they please stop fixating on that? It doesn't kriffing matter.

"Yes, it does," Tech argues, almost glaring, and everyone stops to look at him. "What?" he says, "We all know that biting… changes us. I am starting to be able to pick up on thoughts now, and that seems to be a good thing."

For a moment, Crosshair can only sit there and think about how fitting it is for it to be them, the four of them. Once, it was them against the world, just them, and nothing and no one else mattered. Maybe that time is in the past, but… they're still… closer with each other than they ever have been with anyone else. They know one another too well, too… intimately for that to change.

Hunter's gaze turns towards Omega, and then, he looks away again. "Yeah," he whispers, "Yeah, can't deny that."

His heart twists with the aching need to stay with them, to be a part of them again, but everything is different, and they have a kid he doesn't even know. She wanted them when no one else did, and that means something, but after everything that's happened between them, Crosshair doesn't know if that fact is enough for him to just… accept her like they have. He doesn't know her, doesn't want to be trapped feeling like a stranger, an outsider in whatever they've built without him. He can't – can't do that.

They were supposed to… stay together. Always. It was their – their promise to each other, and they left, and he left, and… it's a mess.

But stars, he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Hunter shifts, eyes haunted, conflicted, and Wrecker moves toward him, gaze silently begging him to let him touch him. Crosshair meets his eyes, nodding slightly, and he's enveloped in an almost crushing hug before he can so much as blink. He drops his head onto Wrecker's shoulder, closing his eyes and swallowing back the tears that want to escape. He's not going to cry in front of them, and distantly, he thinks he can hear Hunter's thoughts echoing the same sentiment.

"Where did your ship end up?" Tech queries, breaking through the emotional-ness of the moment, for which Crosshair is grateful.

Huh. Good question, though. "I think one of the storms ate it," he drawls, shifting back from Wrecker a bit, though his brother still keeps him close.

"Well, I suppose that we will have to finish repairing the skiff to get to the town in the other half of the hemisphere," Tech concludes.

"I think we may need to… finish feeding first," Hunter says a little dryly, a sudden flicker of hunger in his eyes as he says it.

"Can I?" Wrecker queries, looking at him hopefully, and Crosshair shrugs which Wrecker takes an affirmative and bites into his neck again to rebegin feeding. Tech makes a face, but he doesn't resist as Hunter shifts closer to him to start feeding from him. Crosshair eyes them both, a little weirded out at seeing them like that, but the comfort and contentment of having Wrecker so close washes over him, and he settles there, in his brother's arms.

"Are you going to stay?" Omega inquires, hopefully, as she plops back down on the bench-thing she was sitting on before, a datapad clutched in her hands.

The question that they've all been dancing around, and Crosshair is keenly aware of the way all three of his brothers still at it, waiting and listening, afraid of the answer but also wanting to know. They've heard enough of his thoughts to know how he feels about it, and about the kid, so they know how… difficult of a question it is, unlike her.

Does he dare come back? Could he, after everything he's done to them? Would he be able to handle it, even? He doesn't know, and he knows for certain that if he did go back, he'd never have the strength to pull away, even if it started crushing him. It would be easier to walk away and not look back than risk that their family crumbles entirely. They… belong together, or more like, they're part of each other, but that doesn't mean he can just… overlook everything that's happened, and it doesn't mean they can, either. That wouldn't be fair.

He's always been the youngest, the one they looked out for, and he knows he took it for granted sometimes, but he can't imagine… losing it entirely, coming back and realizing that it's all different because they have a new youngest, a kid who deserve their protection far more than he ever has.

"S'not true," Wrecker insists, lifting his head and sitting back, and Crosshair realizes that he still hasn't answered Omega's question. "You're…" still my little brother. Always.

"I shot you," he snaps, and the guilt hits him full force. He pulls away from Wrecker again, unable to be close to him with that hanging there, in the air. He nearly shot Tech, too, on Bracca; only Hunter's reflexes saved him. And Hunter –

He did so much to him, too much, more than he could ever make up for, and he – the least he can do is leave them, take himself out of the equation so they don't have to fear him turning on them, so he doesn't have to fear it. Because he did it before, and it was so right and reasonable, and he hates it, hates himself for it, but there's no going back, only forward.

It reminds him of something when they were young, of Hunter's small hand on his shoulder after a practice test he'd nearly failed, holding him tight, whispering it doesn't matter what the regs think about you, Crosshair, you can be better than them. You just need more practice. Keep moving. Don't dwell on it. There's no going back. And he'd spent more time in the firing ranges after that, learning to keep his hands steady, learning to keep himself calm no matter what. It was Hunter who pushed him to be his best, always, and he'd taken that and turned it against them, as if it wasn't because of them that he lasted as long as he did, that he wasn't decommissioned.

"I can't stay," he tells Omega tightly, keeping his expression closed off and blank. He used to struggle with emotions when he was little, and it was Hunter who had sat down with him and taught him how to remain outwardly impassive.

Her eyes fill with hurt. "Why not?" she demands, persistent just as he remembers.

He pushes back, half rising to his knees as he backs away from them. He doesn't know what he is, but he survived this long on his own, and he's not human anymore. He'll be fine. He's hard to kill – he remembers that much from his mindless chase, focused solely on finding them, something he's majorly beginning to regret. He dragged them into this, into whatever thing he has now become, and he regrets that, too. He only keeps hurting them.

"It's for the best," he answers, looking at her so he doesn't have to see the pain in his brothers' eyes. He can hear enough of their thoughts, panicked and stumbling over each other, and he knows they don't want him to go, but he doesn't –

He feels cold and sick, and he can't do this, can't pretend that he belongs.

"You're our brother." Tech's voice is just shy of harsh. "We have been through hard spots in the past, and we no doubt will face them again in the future, but that is no reason to leave."

"Crosshair," Hunter begins, and he shakes his head, backing away further. He doesn't think he can bear to listen to Hunter begging him to reconsider.

"I'm not running," he snaps at Tech.

Cool brown eyes, identical to his own, study him. "Aren't you?" he asks mildly.

"No," he snarls.

They're his, and they always will be, but sometimes – sometimes you have no choice but to leave what's yours. He tells himself it's for the best, tells himself that it will stop hurting eventually, a gnawing, twisting, aching pain in his chest, but he knows – he knows it won't.

"Punishing yourself for what you did won't make it right, Crosshair," Tech says bluntly, pointedly.

"I'm not –" he argues immediately, heatedly.

Why did he come here what was he thinking he should have known better known to stay away it would have been best for all of them –

No matter how disbelieving he is of them for losing the Marauder – how does one lose a starship? Really? – he knows that they've done a good job at protecting themselves all this time. They can handle themselves. He's always been confident of that, of their ability, and he knows Hunter will lead them. Hunter is… a good leader, and once, Crosshair would have followed him without hesitation. Maybe he still would, if there was even a reasonable chance of that, but there's not, and he has to let it go, all of it, even if it hurts.

He can't change what's been done.

You can come back, comes the thought. From Hunter or from Tech, he isn't certain, but it's one of them. Wrecker's thoughts are… different, less debating and more grieving, and he's trying not to hear it, because he doesn't want to know how much he's hurting them, too.

"Be realistic," Hunter states finally, pushing himself to his feet and walking towards him. Crosshair stands, too, facing him, tense. "You have no way of getting off the planet, and we have no idea if the people here will be friendly. Someone already took the Marauder. There's no telling what else they could do."

He's right. Of course, he is, because this is Hunter, and he's their rational thinker, the one who doesn't act on impulse.

"I can't –" he starts, hardly even sure what he's planning to say, but something, because he can't – he can't –

Something flashes through Hunter's eyes, and Crosshair doesn't sense a thought so much as the deep stirring of an instinct. He tenses, instinctively, but he's still not expecting it when Hunter pounces on him and bites his neck, thankfully on the other side, not where Wrecker was feeding, or that would have hurt. He freezes entirely, completely caught off guard, but then, the familiar warmth and comfort of feeding – or being fed on – floods in, and nothing else matters. And this is Hunter.

Crosshair can't quite stop the strangled half-whimper from escaping or the way his hand lands on Hunter's shoulder, tightening and holding on. He wants to belong there with them, wants to be one of them the way he used to be, but he doesn't know how.

Hunter lifts his head, touching Crosshair's jaw lightly and meeting his eyes. "Stay," he whispers. "Please. I know I made a lot of mistakes. I know we all did. I'm sorry, Crosshair, for leaving, for… hurting you. But we've missed you, and just – can you stay?"

How is he supposed to say no to that?

He closes his eyes, feeling the warmth of Hunter's hand and body, breathing in the scent of him that he was never sensitive enough to smell before. "Yeah," he says, reaching out and pulling Hunter close to him, "Okay."

Hunter wavers for a moment before hugging him back, tightly, and lowering his head to feed from him. Apparently, they find him more enticing than the others – or maybe it's just the best way of showing affection, according to their new instincts.

That seems to be an unspoken declaration that it's okay to move, and Wrecker comes to join them, wrapping both of them in a hug, and squeezing them tightly. Crosshair rolls his eyes, leaning against Wrecker while still holding onto Hunter. "I'm sorry, too," he says, very quietly, but loudly enough for his brothers to hear, as Tech comes to the other side, not actually hugging them – not that he'd ever expect him to anyway – but standing close enough to make it feel like he's there, especially when he puts his hand on Crosshair's shoulder. "I didn't – I never wanted to hurt you, or… any of it, but I had orders, and it all made sense at the time. I don't – I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Wrecker assures, gently, pausing before amending, "It will be okay. We'll figure it out. Together."

"Like we always used to," Hunter adds softly.

"Yeah," Crosshair agrees, and he hears the thought that arises, feels the devotion and fierceness of it, but he couldn't say who it belongs to, if it's him or one of them, or all of them. I love you.

"We can track Gonky!" Omega exclaims suddenly, popping up beside him, waving the datapad excitedly. "He's still on the Marauder."

A pause. "Ingenious idea," Tech states, and he sounds impressed. Crosshair is, too, if she thought of something that even Tech didn't. "Try doing a trace on his binary reference code."

"On it!"

"Don't get your hopes up, kid," Wrecker calls as she scampers off.

Maybe getting used to her won't be so bad after all, and with his brothers around him, close in a way they never have been in the past, Crosshair can't help but think that this isn't all bad. They can make it work. They'll figure it out together as they always have. And now that they have a chance to find the Marauder again – he still can't believe someone stole it from them – things just seem that much brighter and more hopeful.

They're together, and nothing else matters. Nothing else has ever mattered.

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