Chapter 6 – Then if the Clouds Get Heavy and Start to Fall

Author's Note: Crosshair and Tech get a Moment. :D

~ Amina Gila


Crosshair wakes up in the middle of the night cycle, after a series of disjointed, broken images, flashes of his enslavement, of Mayday, of the supervisor yelling, of the electroprod hitting his back and sides. He's alone in his rack, and he can hear Wrecker breathing below him. It should be enough for him to shift and go back to sleep, but he just – can't. He's too wide awake for reasons he can't explain even to himself, and there's an anxious, buzzing energy under his skin. His head is throbbing dully, promising a coming migraine, and he doesn't know if it's from the stress and emotions of yesterday, or if it's from his lack of sleep.

He doesn't sleep well anymore, something he's been struggling to hide from his brothers. They fuss over him enough already. He's a soldier, not a baby. If he told them about his sleepless nights, the nightmares, the way he struggles with concentrating on the simplest tasks, the random but minor muscle spasms and aches, he doesn't think they'd ever let him so much as use the 'fresher on his own ever again.

Ugh.

He rolls over to face the wall and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus on just breathing, no matter that his heart is pounding too fast, or that his breath is coming too quickly. He thinks they know something is wrong, anyway.

(Useless, defective, weak, he can't do anything right anymore, not even being a soldier, and that's all he has all he's ever been good at if he can't be a sniper what can he even be he'll have nothing –)

He lost the round of dejarik to Wrecker earlier. It was humiliating. He hasn't lost a dejarik round to Wrecker in years. Wrecker always puts up a fair challenge, but they all know that the outcome is pretty much inevitable. Crosshair lost. He shouldn't have lost. He can't even do that right. He hadn't wanted to play against Hunter or Tech or Echo after that. Instead, he'd watched them play against each other until Cid yelled at them to stop running up her power bill.

Why does he feel like this? He shouldn't feel like this. He's a soldier. Why is – why does –

Crosshair sighs quietly, scrubbing his hands against his face, trying to pretend they're not trembling faintly as he sits upright and swings to the floor. There's no use lying down when he won't be able to sleep. He's too on edge. Doesn't know why. Nothing happened. The others went to Raxus and came back fine. He didn't even go on the mission – sometimes it happened that after a particularly tense mission, he was too keyed up to sleep, but even that isn't true right now. He doesn't – what's wrong with him?

Hunter's on the floor near the ladder to the gunner's mount, a blanket haphazardly thrown on him. Echo's in the next room, sleeping in a chair. Crosshair tiptoes to the cockpit, to take over for Tech, who must be on watch. If he's going to be awake, he might as well do something useful.

Tech's fiddling with a mechanical something that Crosshair knows better than to ask about, and he looks up when Crosshair settles into the co-pilot's seat. A teeny, tiny part of Crosshair wishes that Mayday was here. He wouldn't have to explain anything to him if he was. He'd just… get it. Because they went through the same things together, and they didn't need to talk when they… felt like this. Mayday hid it better, but he still struggled sometimes. Maybe not as much as Crosshair – (he's defective, but then, he always knew that) – but still enough that he'd – get it.

It feels wrong somehow to think about him, to miss him, when he has his brothers back. He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

"Want to lay down for a bit?" Crosshair asks. "I'll keep watch."

Tech looks back at the machine in his hands. "Negative," he replies. "I am not yet ready for rest." That sounds like Tech speak for not tonight. Which is fine. Crosshair can't say he'll mind the company.

Of all his brothers, Tech's the only one that seems the most… similar, if he pretends he didn't see him and Hunter talking after Tech's nightmare some time ago, that is. Sometimes, silence is comforting, and Crosshair wouldn't know how to break it anyway. He can't tell them what's going on in his head. He's – something's wrong with him. It's something he ought to be able to handle on his own. He doesn't need to make them worry.

"Problem?" Tech asks suddenly, and Crosshair blinks back to the present – he didn't even realize that he'd zoned out, his mind tumbling down the path of the past, to what he faced when he was away.

"'M fine," he says, pulling his legs up, resting his feet on the edge of his seat. He feels decidedly not fine, but he doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't even know how. (He feels like he's about to fracture into a million shards, and it'll be messy and impossible to put him back together.) He knows he's hiding, avoiding, knows that he can't keep doing it forever, but he doesn't –

"Given your current position, that is clearly untrue," Tech points out bluntly.

Crosshair scowls, crossing his arms over his knees so he can bury his face against them, blocking out the light entirely. His head hurts. His whole body hurts, and it feels so stupid. "'M fine, Tech."

He startles when a hand touches his shoulder, light and gentle but still firm. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"… Something," he admits. It wasn't exactly a nightmare. It was just… He doesn't know, can't explain why his mind won't shut down enough for him to sleep. That was something Tech always had issues with. Even Hunter sometimes. But not him.

"You have been through an ordeal," Tech says quietly, softly, "It will take your mind time to process and accept that you are safe now." A pause, and then a slightly awkward, "do you wish to speak of it?"

Something's wrong with me, he wants to say, but either Tech will panic which will make everyone else panic, or he'll tell him that there's nothing wrong at all, that he's perfectly normal. He doesn't know which one he dislikes more, doesn't even know what it is that he wants to hear. He doesn't want to talk, but suddenly, he really does. Hunter's… well, he's Hunter, and for all that Crosshair wants to tell him everything and ask him to fix it, he can't do that, doesn't deserve to do that. He made Hunter cry. He's not close enough with Echo, and Wrecker is… Wrecker. He's already so depressed, and that's half of why Crosshair feels as off balanced as he does.

Maybe he does need to talk to Tech. If Hunter can't fix it, maybe Tech can. … Right?

"Everything's just so… different now," he says finally, voice somewhat muffled by his arms. "Everyone's different, and I just – I don't know." He slides a hand through his hair, tugging it lightly, curling in on himself further. I don't know you anymore. He can't say that, though he wants to. It feels cruel. It's still true. He wants to go home. He misses them, and he shouldn't because they're right here, but he does and –

"It is not always easy to become accustomed to change," Tech tells him. "It will take time. Losing you was not easy for any of us. I do not think we have ever really recovered."

He blinks, and there's tears in his eyes. Doesn't know when that happened. He shouldn't cry. It's a weakness. He doesn't have time to be weak. (It feels like weak is all he is anymore.) "I had an argument with Hunter," he confesses. Maybe that's half of what's haunting him. He needs to address it with Hunter, but he doesn't know how.

Tech shifts, his hand tightening on Crosshair's shoulder. "And?"

"On Bracca," he continues. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he also does. He doesn't know how to handle it on his own. (Pathetic.) "Echo wants to fight, did he tell you?" He twists to look at Tech in time to see surprise flit across his face followed by resignation.

"No, he did not, but I presumed as much," Tech answers.

"I don't wanna fight," Crosshair tells him, looking away, fingers digging into his knees. He's not wearing his armor. Took it off before he laid down in the hopes that he'd be comfortable enough to sleep through the night for once. "I told 'im that. It…" He gestures vaguely, as if that alone could explain the argument, the awful feelings that were twisting inside of him when he realized he made Hunter cry. "… Didn't go very well. Hunter – we – argued. I might not have been very nice to him." It comes out as more of a question than anything else. He hates the way his voice is wavering, but he can't seem to hide the emotions that are choking him.

"Did you talk to him again?" Tech questions, neutral.

"I don't know how." No, he's not whining, thank you very much. "I don't know why – Echo was arguing with Hunter, too." He says it grudgingly, not quite a complaint, but near enough. Doesn't know how to say I did what I always did I stood up for Hunter why was he angry at me for it.

"Ah," says Tech, as if he finally understands everything that transpired. Crosshair eyes him, but he's looking away, at the dashboard. He doesn't usually make eye contact, at least not for extended periods of time. It makes him uncomfortable or something. His hand slides lower to rest on Crosshair's back, just touching. He doesn't mind, but it's still weird because this is Tech and touching was never something he did. "You argued with Echo because of how he was speaking to Hunter?"

Is it really that transparent? "… Yes," he admits sullenly. They never used to treat Echo like that, and sure, Echo might not've been with them for that long before Crosshair… got separated, but it was long enough that it still jars him to see how things are different between them and Echo now. He thought Hunter would stand up to Echo, but he didn't.

"Things changed after we lost you, Crosshair," Tech explains. "We could not risk alienating Echo lest he choose to return to the 501st Legion which would have put an end to our squad. As three clones, we would not have been able to be effective on missions. The Kaminoans would have split us and integrated us into new squads. We could not let that happen, even if that meant compromising in ways which… made us uncomfortable."

Crosshair swallows, lifting his head. It makes sense, and he doesn't know how to feel about that. It hurts, in some strange way that he can't explain. He can't even fathom what it would have done to his brothers, to have lost him and then each other, and – Would they even still be alive had that happened? He shoves the thought away violently, unable to even entertain it. Even the possibility of losing them makes him clench up with fear.

He can understand Hunter's reaction now, so much better, and he feels a sharp stab of guilt at the way he treated him. It was entirely unwarranted, and he shouldn't have done that. He made Hunter cry. He didn't even know that was possible.

"Everyone's so… different," he says again, swallowing hard. He wants to cry, and it's stupid. He has them back. Why can't he just – let it go? Move on? Be grateful that they're here? What is wrong with him?

"That is the inevitability of life," Tech replies. "Things change."

"I feel so…" He hesitates, biting his lip, unsure if he really wants to give voice to it.

"What is it?" he prompts, hand moving back to his shoulder.

"Out of place," he blurts out, flushing slightly as he says it. "Nothing's like I remember it being."

Tech is quiet for a moment, and unexpectedly, he lays his hand over Crosshair's, squeezing gently. "It was not easy for us after we lost you," he says. His tone is matter of fact, as it usually is, but Crosshair can hear the layered grief lurking just beneath the surface. "We didn't want to fight anymore, but that was not a choice we were given. We let Echo drive us, I suppose. If not for him, we might well have gone AWOL." There's a slight furrow in his brow, a tightness around his mouth that betrays how much it hurts, even now, to think about.

"You did not die," he continues, "But that does not mean it is an easy thing to adjust to, even for us. We grieved you, and I suppose we are still grieving. We feel it, too, what you feel. We are different, and so are you, but we cannot go back to the past. We can only keep moving."

Crosshair turns his hand over, clinging to Tech's almost desperately, as he stares out the viewport, pretending tears aren't prickling at his eyes. "I don't know how," he admits, half-brokenly. "I don't – Wrecker's so… different. He was never this… dark, and I don't – I don't know." It freaks him out to see it. Scares him, too. "And Hunter. And so're you, and I don't –"

He doesn't even know what he's trying to say. I don't know how to accept it, maybe, or I don't know how to understand it.

"Yes, we have changed." It's a somewhat uncertain acknowledgement, but it's still what he needs. Tech's not the best at emotional conversations, but he's the only one Crosshair can talk to right now.

"Sometimes – sometimes, I don't feel like I belong here," he whispers, his inhale ragged, half a sob. It's an awful thing to say, but it's still the truth, and he can't keep denying it. It's dug into his skin, impossible to shake, and he doesn't know what to do with those feelings. "I know I do. I don't have anywhere else, but I still – I don't –" He pretends he can't feel the tears falling down his face, pretends he's not swallowing down sobs that want to escape. But pretending is what he's become good at, after all. Sometimes, it feels like all he does is pretend.

"… Do you want a hug?" Tech asks, entirely by surprise.

Crosshair doesn't wait for him to take it back, swinging from the co-pilot's seat onto Tech's lap. Tech's in his armor, and it digs uncomfortably into him, but he doesn't care, burrowing as close as he can get, wrapping his arms around Tech's neck, and burying his face against his brother's shoulder. Tech makes a sort of surprised grunt, but he doesn't push Crosshair away. He only slides his arms around Crosshair's waist and holds him. Crosshair's acutely aware of the faint trembling in his body, his breathing hitched from sobs that he's not letting escape. The last thing he wants is for Hunter to wake up and come in here. Doesn't know how to face him yet. Isn't ready to face him.

Tech rubs his back, and the way he touches him is so gentle that Crosshair doesn't know what to do with it. He can't remember the last time someone held him quite this gently, and Wrecker doesn't count. He's not a child. He shouldn't need someone to hold him or protect him so badly, but he still wants it.

"I don't – I don't know what's wrong with me," he manages, voice ragged and shaking. Guess he's not pretending to not be crying anymore.

"Nothing is wrong with you," Tech answers immediately, fingers stroking through Crosshair's hair. "You are grieving. That is natural. I do not know what you endured when you were away, but I have no doubt that it was very hard on you mentally, especially since you were alone."

"Not the whole time," he mumbles against Tech's shoulder. "There was a reg. Mayday. We escaped together. Tried to. He didn't make it."

"I presume you were close?"

"I guess," he answers, "But he wasn't you." He doesn't think it's his imagination that Tech's arms tighten around him. He does miss Mayday, probably a part of him always will, because they bonded in circumstances that he doesn't even know how to talk about. They went through something… hard together, and it's not something his brothers know about. Doesn't quite know how to feel about that either. They always did everything together, and he never thought that would ever change.

He also doesn't know how to feel about what Tech told him. They… didn't want to fight anymore? It's strangely comforting to know that. It makes him feel less alone, less like he doesn't belong.

"Do you want to talk about your experiences?" The question is so awkward and hesitant, that Crosshair smiles briefly despite his tears.

"I worked in a mine," he says finally. He doesn't know how much of this he can talk about, but right now, it's okay.

Tech's hands tighten. "You were a slave." He doesn't sound surprised.

"You knew?" Crosshair asks, unsure how to feel about that.

"It was a reasonable conjecture based on the planet where we found you, and your physical condition at the time," Tech answers. He's angry. Crosshair can hear the anger in the clipped edge to his words, and it makes him feel protected, having Tech angry on his behalf. He knows he's safe here, knows they'll protect him, and maybe that's part of why he doesn't want to fight anymore, so he doesn't have to worry about something like that happening again. Hunter can't protect them from everything, and if – if they're not fighting, he won't be taken from them again. He's terrified of it, terrified of being separated from them, terrified of losing them, any of them.

He doesn't know what else he can even say about what he went through, though. How can he tell them about the conditions, the near starvation he faced sometimes, the beatings? How is he supposed to talk about it? He'd rather forget it ever happened, but he can't get it out of his head, can't stop remembering it, his mind replaying it over and over again when he tries to sleep.

"I want to stop remembering it," he murmurs, sniffling, shifting a bit on Tech's lap.

"Is that why you're awake?" Tech inquires gently. "Does this happen often?"

"… Yes." He's tired now, exhausted enough that he thinks he could fall asleep right here, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. "All the time." His head is still throbbing, though, but the pain of it is nothing when compared to the feeling of safety he derives from Tech's embrace.

"You should have told me," Tech reprimands, though there's no heat in it.

"I didn't want you to worry," he mutters, feeling himself flush a bit. He lifts his head long enough to wipe away the wetness on his face, before laying his head back on Tech's shoulder, forehead pressed against his brother's neck.

"On that front, you have failed," Tech informs him. "I will always worry."

"I just want things to be normal again." It's not a whine, but it's not quite… not, either.

"I know, but I cannot ensure you are healthy if you do not tell me what you are experiencing. Is there anything else you have neglected to share?" Oh great, now Tech's gone into worry-mode, and if Crosshair wasn't in his lap, he has the strong feeling Tech would be scanning him. Somehow, though, he doesn't think he'd mind as much as he would have earlier. Maybe it's because of the feelings of closeness that their conversation has fostered.

"Um," he says intelligently. "Sometimes I have headaches?" It comes out more a question than anything else, and no, it did not trail off into a squeak.

"What else?" Tech asks, firm and merciless. He won't let it go unless Crosshair answers, and if he doesn't, he'll probably get Hunter involved. The thought of facing down Hunter's disappointment, or worse, seeing the silent hurt in his eyes is enough to make Crosshair give in. He can't hurt Hunter. Not again.

"Concentrating is hard," he admits grudgingly. He regrets bringing it up, but he knows he can't just ignore it all. Even if he should be strong enough to handle it alone, even if knowing will only make them worry, right now, he's just grateful that they're here to worry. Doesn't know why he can't always feel that way. But snuggling is nice. Maybe that has something to do with it. "Sometimes I… hurt?"

"How?"

He chews on his lower lip. "Everywhere, I guess. Like 'm sore from training, but not quite." The last one is the worst, the most worrying. He knows it's from what… happened. He doesn't like thinking about it, prefers to pretend none of it ever happened, wishes his own body could let him forget. "I… sometimes have muscle spasms. Minor ones."

"Is that all?" Tech queries, his tone deceptively mild.

Crosshair winces. "Yeah," he answers, curling closer, "That's all."

Tech sighs lightly. "I knew you were hiding things from us, and I was unsure if you were going to tell us on your own. Echo thought you would come to us when you were ready."

Wait, what? "You talked about me?" He doesn't know why he feels betrayed by that. It's stupid.

"We worry about you, Crosshair. We lost you once, and I do not think we could survive losing you again." Blunt and to the point. But Crosshair believes it. Seeing how they are now, even though he's here, he doesn't want to know what would happen to them if he was lost again. They're afraid of losing him, maybe just as afraid as he is of losing them.

"'M sorry," he says, feeling strangely guilty. He didn't mean to make them worry, doesn't want them to have to worry about him all the time, but he doesn't know if he could even change that. Losing him is why they're like this. Nothing he does, or doesn't do, will change that.

"Don't be." Tech strokes his hair. "I am pleased that you told me." Quiet settles over them, but it's comforting, not strained. "I theorized you were exposed to repeated electric shocks when you were away, is that correct?"

Crosshair flinches. "Yeah," he rasps, the feel of the electroprod jabbing into his back flashing through his mind.

"What you are experiencing, both physical and psychological, is undoubtedly a result of extensive exposure to electric shocks, in addition to the psychological distress caused by your situation," Tech explains. "Electricity is a commonly used corrective behavior by slavers. You will get better in time, but I can find some remedies to ease the process. I would ask that you not hide problems of this nature from us in the future."

"Okay," he whispers. He can't promise to tell Tech everything, but he can promise to try.

"Nothing is wrong with you, for feeling this way," Tech assures, almost as though reading his mind. "Depression is a part of grief, and you should not feel ashamed of it. We had to learn how to cope with it, too." Cope feels like a strong word. It doesn't really look like they're coping, not Hunter and Wrecker at least. It's more like surviving it, if even that.

Tech might say there's nothing wrong with him, but he thinks it'll take far more than one comment for him to be able to accept it even if it'll help. Maybe.

"You should go lay down," Tech tells him.

Crosshair only tightens his grip on him. He doesn't want to leave, even if he can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.

"… I can come, if you think it will help."

"Yeah, okay," he relents, uncoiling from his position and reluctantly standing. Tech stands, too, one hand on his shoulder as he steers him from the cockpit, stopping to nudge Echo awake so he can take over watching before heading back for their racks.

Crosshair climbs on first, back against the wall, and Tech joins him, wrapping an arm around him as best he can. It's a tight squeeze when the racks are only made for one, and Crosshair hopes neither of them will fall off. It's… a long way down. Not high enough for them to be seriously hurt, but enough to be very jarring.

"Don't fall," he mumbles to Tech, shifting to pull him closer, half rolling on top of him.

Tech doesn't answer, though Crosshair swears he can feel him smile at that. He pulls the blanket up over them, half tucking Crosshair in, and Crosshair closes his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Tech's body next to his, the steadiness of his breathing, letting it lull him back to sleep.

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