Night Lost

Idk, I just had this random plot bunny, and it got wayyyy out of control. xD

Basically, this is an AU of The Nighttime Fear, where Anakin and Ahsoka find Crosshair when he's being held captive by the Empire. Will hopefully make sense even if you haven't read that fic. ;_; xD

WARNING: Aftermath of torture. It's kind of a bit much idek.

~ Rivana Rita

"You do remember your name, right?" Anakin asks. Crosshair hasn't moved from the back of the shuttle's hold. He casts a backwards glance at him again, then climbs out of the pilot's seat to move closer.

He flinches. Anakin freezes, trying not to stare too hard at the Empire's insignia on Crosshair's shoulder. He joined the Empire when Order 66 came through. He was an Inquisitor. So why was he being held prisoner? Anakin has so many questions, but now's not a good time.

Crosshair's scared of him. All he's radiating is a raw, panicked terror. He's scared of Anakin, but he doesn't know why.

"It's okay," Anakin tries to soothe, hands raised, "We're not going to hurt you."

His dark eyes flit between him and Ahsoka. "You're Jedi," Crosshair says finally.

"And you're my friend," Anakin replies, "Let me look you over."

Crosshair is tense, stiffly wound in a way that looks like it must be painful. Probably pulling on something, but his face is so pale and drawn. He's radiating exhaustion in a way that reminds Anakin jarringly of some of the slaves on Tatooine. A child shouldn't look like that.

Crosshair's nine.

"Don't lie," Crosshair says finally, his voice barely a whisper, "You're not here to help. No one is."

It stings. They did find Crosshair accidentally, but at least they found him. "Snips, get the medkit," Anakin calls, and his padawan takes off to the back. She's the last person he knows who saw Crosshair. She fought him on Kamino to cover for Hunter's escape. They'd all been briefly captured by the Empire. Turned themselves in to save their other Force-sensitive sister they never knew they had.

Hunter asked him for help.

It got messy.

And now, two weeks later, this. Crosshair, a broken, shattered wreck of his former self. His eyes are gold and vacant. He looks... lifeless, and it worries him.

They were torturing him. That's obvious. Anakin found him in a cell, and even if it was meant to be a brief infiltration, Anakin wasn't going to leave him.

They brought him out here unconscious. He's up now, but really edgy about it.

"I'm going to try to help you," Anakin promises him, "Where are you hurt?"

Crosshair shifts. He doesn't answer. He's always edgy about admitting injuries and weaknesses, but this seems extreme.

He feels the answer, anyway – rippling through their bond and through the Force, a gutted, rolling, broken emptiness and void of hope of ever finding relief from the pain that's tearing him apart.

There's a burn on his head, the right side. Lightsaber wound. It cut across his skin and never healed over. It was never treated.

There's a clank as Ahsoka drops the medkit on the floor. "I'm back, master," his padawan says, "But I can't say if we've got enough here." She rummages through it, pulling out the bacta.

"It's a start," Anakin promises, taking it from her and sitting next to Crosshair on the bench.

"Don't touch me." It's said as a snarl, but sounds more like a plea.

Anakin looks up at him. Crosshair is in so much pain. He's been hurt so much he's too afraid to let anyone near him. Anakin was that way as a child, too. He'd been so scared the first time Obi-Wan tried to touch him. Qui-Gon, too.

He doesn't know what to say.

"I know you were an Inquisitor. That doesn't matter. You need our help."

Crosshair glares at Ahsoka. She just watches, staying a distance back, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"I don't need your help," Crosshair snaps back. He tries to shift away, but pauses, wincing. Even shifting is agonizing for him. There are lightsaber wounds across much of his body.

Anakin can't force him to if he doesn't want it. "You need to rest, Crosshair," Anakin tries, finally, "You can't when you're feeling like this."

"It's not something a Jedi would understand." Fear twists in the Force. It's eating at him, nipping inside Anakin and demanding he take it away.

"Tell me," Anakin requests.

Crosshair's head turns away. "Pain makes me stronger."

"It hurts you," Anakin repeats gently, "That's not true. I know the Inquisitors told you a lot of things."

Crosshair is quiet. He looks away again, inhaling roughly. His presence is twisting like he wants to cry. Anakin has felt that so many times.

"Can I touch you?" Anakin asks again.

"It doesn't sound like you're giving me a choice," Crosshair snarls, lowering his head.

Anakin reaches up, fingers gently touching his cheek. Crosshair's head turns into it, eyes closing. He's crying. His face is wet.

He's patched up many of his boys before. He's patched up all four members of Clone Force 99, too, but it was never like this. He's always done his best to take care of them, ever since he first saw them at the Temple three and a half years ago. But nothing could prepare him for this.

Anakin's not a healer. He wishes Kix was here. All he can do is put bacta over the twisted wound on Crosshair's head, trying to brush his too-long hair away to keep it from falling all over the wound. He clearly hasn't cut it in a while.

It should help, and it will, but the soothingness always takes a few more minutes to kick in.

"Can I look you over?" Anakin inquires. He wants to touch his shoulder, but he doesn't know if he should.

"I don't need help," Crosshair mutters.

He's almost exhausted just from fighting over this. He doesn't mean to feel frustrated, so he tries to let that go. He doesn't understand what's happening, much less why the Inquisitors were torturing one of their own. "Fine," Anakin agrees, "But first, I'm giving you a bacta injection, and then you're going to shower. And get a clothes change."

"I don't have any."

"I have a few spare robes in the back. I'm sure you can fit them."

"I am not wearing Jedi robes."

"I don't think what you're wearing right now constitutes as clothes."

Crosshair growls faintly, sighing shakily. His body is trembling. He's in so much pain. Anakin wishes there was something he could do.

Ahsoka digs the syringe out for a bacta injection. Anakin nods to her, and she moves closer to stab the needle into Crosshair's neck. He glares at her feircely, then looks away when he comes closer.

Anakin has to help him stand. There are burns all the way down his arms, and trying to hold him without hurting him or breaking one of the burns open is hard. Just from the bits Anakin can see, they've already broken open in several places a few times over. They're blistered and scabbed over on top of each other, and Anakin's gut flips a little just to watch.

He's seen worse injuries in the war, and many even before, but still. This is awful. At least Crosshair doesn't look as young as he really is. Still, trying not to center on the fury tearing him apart is so hard. Crosshair is his friend. He's something of a little brother. Anakin took care of him for years at the Temple, when... he had no one else. He took care of them a lot, because Clone Force 99 were entirely lost and out of place among the Jedi, just as Anakin once was. He had always thought it felt good to take care of someone the way he once wished someone had him.

He doesn't want to leave Crosshair alone in the 'fresher, quiet honestly, but he doesn't want to do something that would leave him blatantly uncomfortable, either.

Crosshair closes the door behind him. He doesn't lock it. Anakin expects him to, but he doesn't.

Ahsoka comes over to him, arms crossed, face worried. "Do you think this has something to do with when I fought him on Kamino?" she asks quietly.

Anakin sighs. "Maybe. It could be a punishment." He can actually imagine that – horrifyingly. That was almost two full weeks ago.

Nine days. Eight when they got Crosshair out, and several hours since.

"What do we do?" Ahsoka inquires quietly. "We can't force him to accept treatment if he doesn't want it."

"I know." Anakin hardly even knows what to say to her. To anything. He still senses Crosshair – he's trying to move, but he's in pain and struggling to even move to get his clothes off. "I'll try to get through to him, but he's scared of us. I know you're angry he's accepted the Dark Side, but try to be gentle."

"I've seen people get tortured before," Ahsoka mutters, "But never like this." He's only up through electrocution, and some very brutal whippings. Not... burning. It's not from battle. That much is obvious. It was fully deliberate.

How could someone do that to him?

He's nine years old.

"Me either," Anakin replies, "Not with the burns. I think they're worse than they look."

Ahsoka nods, gnawing on her lip. "What do we do?"

He leans back against the door, gently touching him with the Force. Crosshair is moving around, sort of, but Anakin has a feeling he's not doing, anything. He can't move well at all. Anakin has his doubts about whether Crosshair can do anything in there alone, and he's never going to ask their help when he doesn't trust them. Anakin taps on the door.

"Crosshair? Do you – uh. Could you use a hand?"

There's a muffled sound on the other side. "Fine," he growls.

That's a yes, but he doesn't want to ask. Anakin wouldn't, either.

"Watch the ship, and tell me if something goes wrong," he orders.

Ahsoka nods, throwing a worried look past him and leaving. He wants to tell her she did nothing wrong by fighting Crosshair, but he doesn't know what happened.

Anakin invites himself into the 'fresher, crouching beside Crosshair where he's kneeling on the floor. "It's okay," he offers awkwardly, "I've helped many of your brothers before."

Crosshair says nothing.

The source of the issue is obvious enough – the fabric of his clothes are melted onto his skin. Anakin has to try to pry it off, because they can't leave it on, though removing it hurts him worse.

They do get it off, mostly, and Crosshair's crying in mostly silence.

Anakin doesn't ask; he just squeezes his shoulder and carefully takes his arm to help him stand. He has scarring, too – burn spots from electrocution that Anakin knows is from the same time. It could've been from during the war. Hunter always took care of his brothers. Padawans. If that's what they can be called.

"There was a while I needed help, too, you know," Anakin confesses, "After I lost my arm. I got a new one, but it was still hard to feel for a while. I had to get used to using my hand again for everything. It took a long time. Sometimes, I still think it's just in my head and I'll wake up, it'll be fine." He sighs, shaking the limb. "Takes some getting used to."

Crosshair's eyes dart to him. Then away again.

He is covered with burns all over. Some weren't through his clothes. Most were.

It's no wonder he's in so much pain. Moving anywhere would hurt. There's no position that wouldn't stretch the skin somewhere.

"I think we should put bacta on these," Anakin tells him again, "It'll be worse if something gets infected."

He sighs. "True."

He lets him. From there, he actually lets Anakin treat him. Somewhat. He doesn't argue, at least, but Anakin is a little hesitant to touch him too much. Trying to get him cleaned up and resting feels like it takes forever, and it probably was at least an hour.

Anakin returns to the hold thoroughly exhausted. "I treated him," he says, "Mostly. He needs rest."

"I'll set through message to his brothers," Ahsoka offers, "They should be able to help."

"Don't assume anything," Anakin requests of her, "We've assumed far too much. He might hold them accountable for what was done to him. Pushing them together may not help."

"But then what will?" Ahsoka asks.

"I don't know, Snips." He wishes he did, but he's in over his head. "But we can't push him off on someone else just because taking care of him is hard. I know we have a mission, but if we can't even take care of the people who need it, what's the point of fighting?"

"So we can reach more." Ahsoka's sharp, blue eyes pierce into his. "I wanna help him, too, Anakin, but I'm afraid of getting distracted with it. We can't let Crosshair hold us back."

"He's worth it."

She sighs. "I know."

"We can talk to him when he wakes, but then we can ask him what he wants. If he'll choose to go back, or... if he'd rather stay with us for a while."

"He needs someone to take care of him. Make sure he's alright. For a little while."

Anakin nods. "Maybe we should get some rest, too. Take shifts?"

"Sure. I'll go first. You keep watch."

"Snips –"

"Go," she orders.

Anakin goes.

**w**

Anakin wakes after what must be the hundredth nightmare since Order 66 when he finally senses something off in the Force.

Crosshair.

He scrambles off his bunk, heading into the room they left him in.

Anakin skids to a stop in the doorway, taking him in. He's curled on his side on the bunk, thrashing a little, radiating a strangling feeling of raw panic into the Force. Nightmares, too. He suspected as much just from the fear, and the lack of immediate danger. If it wasn't that, it was that Ahsoka somehow scared the living nightlights out of him.

"Crosshair, wake up," Anakin calls, nudging him through their weak bond and moving in closer.

He feels it the minute he flickers back to consciousness, but the fear doesn't fade. Anakin doesn't know how to feel about how Crosshair is terrified of them even though he's just tried to help. He should talk to Obi-Wan about that. His master went through the same thing with him.

Why is he so quiet?

Why does Anakin suddenly find it impossible to talk? Why are words dying on him so badly? Not that he has ever been good with words.

"It's just a dream," he promises, moving in a little closer while keeping what is hopefully a reasonable distance. "You're safe with us. We're in hyperspace right now."

"Then what?" Crosshair whispers. His head turns a little, but he doesn't move to sit up. He's taller than Anakin is, but still, Anakin's Jedi robes make him look tiny. "Where are you taking me?"

"Where do you want to go?"

He sighs. "I don't know. I'm your prisoner."

"You're not," he denies, "This isn't about the Jedi or the Sith. It's not really about what's good for the galaxy, either. You needed our help, and here we are."

Crosshair is quiet. He's lying facing the doorway, and his eyes are on Anakin. Shaded. Wary. Scared. He says nothing.

"Ahsoka wanted to ask if you wanted to go back to your brothers," Anakin continues. "Or if you'd rather stay here for a while."

He's quiet a moment longer, then licks his lips. "Are you going to kill me?"

Anakin twitches. "What? Why would you think that?"

"I'm a Sith. That's what Jedi do."

"I'm not exactly an ordinary Jedi. Never have been. Just like you."

"You never embraced the Dark Side. You denied what you were. The Jedi turned on the Republic. So did you." He's tense again. Angry. Eyes glinting gold.

Anakin sighs. "You're right that I betrayed the Chancellor," he goes for, "But I didn't betray the Republic. I'm still fighting for it. I never stopped. But the Republic isn't the Empire."

"Good soldiers follow orders."

"But we're more than soldiers. We still have our minds. We know right from wrong. So do you."

"When you're a sniper," Crosshair hisses, shifting to push himself upright, but he gives up halfway. "You can't stop to think about whether you should pull the trigger. You pull it, or your team dies."

It makes a horrifying amount of sense, laid out so bluntly. Crosshair has never let go of his past. Just like Anakin. They're not alike in all good ways. "I'm sorry," Anakin tells him earnestly, "I wish I could have made things better for you. That's all I ever wanted."

He looks away.

Anakin approaches him slowly. Crosshair twitches back when he eases himself onto the edge of the bed. "I know you were never able to let go of your past like the Jedi teach."

"I don't want a life chosen for me."

"But it happened again," Anakin reminds, "That's why you're here. An Inquisitor."

Crosshair sort of rolls his eyes and looks away. He doesn't pressure; just waits until the former-padawan is ready to say something. "I didn't want this either," he says slowly, "But it's what I got, and it's what I have to live with."

"Yes," Anakin agrees, "But you can leave that all behind. Your brothers... want you back. If you want to go, of course."

"I – I don't know. Can I have a drink?"

"Can you sit up?"

Crosshair grunts, trying to move again. Anakin has to grip his shoulder to get him somewhat upright, and he calls Ahsoka to bring the water in. Her and Crosshair avoid each other's gaze. Anakin is starting to get relatively certain that Ahsoka's suspicions were right, after all. That it really was because he failed.

Crosshair can't keep his hands steady for long, but he still can drink on his own. Surprisingly. Anakin just sits there, ready to help if he needs it, but still hesitating to touch him. He doesn't know what Crosshair is willing to take right now.

Ahsoka leaves the doorway, and Crosshair looks back at Anakin.

"You can get some rest," he offers, "Again. The Empire will be looking for us, but we're going to a place they haven't reached yet."

Crosshair nods, too exhausted to fight anymore. He lays back down, slowly, head on Anakin's knee. It's good that he's willing for this much contact. He used to do that when he was little, but a lot of things have changed now. So many things are... different. Anakin leans back against the wall, closing his eyes and touching Crosshair's head, carefully stroking his hair, mindful of the easily damageable burn there.

They don't talk anymore, and Anakin doesn't move, waiting for Crosshair to finally fall back asleep.

**w**

"You need to get some rest, too," Ahsoka tells Anakin dryly.

"I'm fine."

"Uh-huh." Ahsoka looks tired, though. "About Crosshair, I... I do want to help him. I just don't know if this means we're sacrificing the mission or not."

"This is the mission, Ahsoka," Anakin answers tiredly.

She nods, biting her lip. "I think this is our fault."

"We had no way of expecting him to be hurt," Anakin reminds, "We got the others out of there, but we sacrificed Crosshair to do it. It's our job to make that up to him."

"I think he's angry at me."

"I think so, too. But he'll understand, Ahsoka. You did your best to protect his brothers. He's still loyal to them somewhere."

"Then let's just see what they want. He'll be fine. Just give him some time."

Anakin nods, gnawing on his lip.

Crosshair's strong, but he still can't shake what he saw from mind. Crosshair has struggled a lot as a Jedi, especially after their former master Krell was killed on Umbara. He messed then up a lot. Anakin sometimes thinks he's half to blame for all of their problems.

But this – this is on the Inquisitors. Ahsoka's right. He'll be fine.

...hopefully.

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