A/N: Look, I've spent more time watching edits (because those are free on YouTube) than I have watched the actual show so I apologise for any inaccuracies. That said, I have a lot of feelings about Crosshair being left on that platform for a whole month. So I present you with angst.
This was written for prompt no. 3: "Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon."
Journal Solitary Confinement "Make it stop."
The title of the fic and chapters is from 'Where I belong' by Switchfoot
"Tech, don't forget to switch off your datapad before you go to sleep. And try not to pass out while reading, you idiot. I'm getting sick and tired -"
"Wrecker, I stashed a few extra grenades under my bunk. You've probably already found them. If you haven't -"
"Echo, I'm sorry that I hid your prosthetics when you first joined the squad. It was a bad joke and -"
"Hunter, what did I do wrong? Why did you leave? Why can't -"
Crosshair didn't know why he wrote the messages. It wasn't like he would ever send them. It wasn't as if he would ever see his batch again. He supposed it was simply because he didn't have anything better to do. Writing distracted him - kept his mind away from the hunger and thirst and the pulsing ache in his chest.
It had been seven days since they'd left him behind. Seven days stuck on this platform with nothing to do but think. He used to like solitude. He could sit for hours in a sniper's roost by himself.
Even on their longest mission though, he always had the option of opening the comm line to the rest of his brothers and listening to them chat and bicker. Now there was silence. He found he didn't like quiet as much as he thought he did.
He would have given anything to be able to hear his brothers now.