Chapter 2 - Waiting

Days pass.

Still nothing.

They keep running missions for Cid, but Hunter's dreams, or visions or whatever they are continue. The pace picks up though. The severity picks up. Crosshair doesn't know what it means, but he's worried. The Inquisitors probably have been back a while, but they could show up here any time.

They're not safe on Ord Mantell.

Doesn't feel like he's safe anywhere.

Hunter takes him off on a mission – just the two of them – on some sort of supply run, and Tech goes off racing without them.

Crosshair just rolls his eyes at it even if that ignites a rippling worry.

"It was fun," Omega insists, "We could try it again. It could get us a lot of credits."

"It could also give the Empire a lead to us," Tech points out, "It was a choice between me racing, and us using the Force openly to free Cid. It is not something I would recommend a repeat of."

"But it would get us more, right?" Omega asks, "And we could help people."

Hunter looks between them and sighs. "Come," he requests, taking her shoulder and leading her a distance across the parlor.

Wrecker laughs. "I still think we could've taken 'em!"

"Not without disclosing ourselves," Tech replies. "And we would have no place to go, along with having many other highly connected individuals searching for us. The Inquisitors would become the least of our problems."

Crosshair watches where Hunter and Omega have disappeared to across the room. Hunter's crouched in front of her, and they're talking quietly. It's something private and none of his concern, but he perks up the moment he hears his name and tries discreetly shifting closer.

"– has been through enough."

"But what about everyone else? I thought they were our duty, too."

Hunter sighs heavily. "They are, but this is about Crosshair. We have to put him first."

"This... isn't what I thought it would be like to be a Jedi."

"We adapt to survive. All of us." It's cold, but Anakin told them that, and he knows it's not meant to be. It's just a statement of fact, like Tech so often gives. "And we have to be patient. For him. He'll recover, but he needs time."

Omega sighs. "I – okay."

Hunter squeezes her shoulder, and Crosshair tries his best not to think about how she gave up a life she wanted for him.

**w**

They go with Phee – the pirate Cid introduced them to – on some wild mission chasing some sort of treasure, though what they're going to do with the treasure, Crosshair has no idea. It doesn't matter, anyway – they nearly get it, but have to give in it up in favor of getting a ride off-world.

Omega's the one who wanted to go, and with lack of anything else to do, the others pitched in.

Omega's not happy with their life. That shouldn't hurt as badly as it does, but Crosshair can't stop thinking about that every time he sees her – this isn't the life she wants, because he took any chances of her getting what she wanted.

Just like the Jedi once did with him.

He feels awful, genuinely – can't stop thinking about it, can't stop remembering. He's hurt their kid, too.

Hunter's new padawan. The one to replace him.

He doesn't know how to talk to her sometimes. Omega's always the one who comes to him – she's so bright and cheerful. He adores her, but he's also often entirely lost. He doesn't understand that optimism, that desire to help – it's not what they were made for.

They were made to fight.

That's all he's ever wanted.

Not the Force. Not being a Jedi.

He and Wrecker made it work, and Crosshair thought they always could, but then Krell died and Hunter took over their training, and for as easy as that was, it was also so much harder.

That's never the role Hunter was supposed to have.

He's not their master.

He's their brother.

He's nine.

Crosshair doesn't mind learning from him, doesn't mind having to look to him for orders. No, it's the – calmness that drives him crazy. That maddeningly infuriating calm, the way he keeps going on about the Code, the Jedi's way.

That doesn't mean it's their way.

It's not Crosshair's way.

But if he wants to stay with his brothers, if he wants to be safe, they all have to deal with each other's – differences. He doesn't want to make his brothers change themselves, but the Jedi failed, and they were traitors except they were betrayed, too, and...

He still remembers Hunter's fear and anger fading away into something exhaustedly calm in a second as he let it go in the Temple, when Crosshair held his blade at his master's neck. Hunter looked at him the same when – when he was – but then it had so much more fear.

And Crosshair was going to –

"Hey," Omega says hopping onto the chair next to Crosshair where he stares meticulously at nothing at all. "Is something wrong?"

"How'd you know?" he grumbles.

"You don't sit there that long unless something's wrong," Omega replies, cocking her head and studying him. He feels something, gentle and flower-like in his head, and he shies away a little. He trusts her, adores her, but he held her at lightsaber point, too.

"You don't want to live this life," he goes for right off.

"Of course I want to stay with you!" she argues. "Why would you think that?"

"I heard what you were saying to Hunter," Crosshair admits uncomfortably, looking away. Hurting the kid feels as bad as having hurt his brothers somehow. "About our life. You'd be happier if I wasn't holding you back."

"I am happy with you," Omega replies, "We need to help people, but we have to start with each other."

Those are Hunter's words as much as hers.

Crosshair sighs. Omega's so nice he doesn't know how to deal with it most of the time. He's never had anyone be so... kind. Never had anyone who wanted to be a part of them.

She's happy with being a Jedi. They all are, and it hurts more than he even knows how to say.

He doesn't want anything to do with Force-users anymore. Doesn't care if it's Light or Dark. He's so tired.

"It's okay, Crosshair," Omega promises, patting his arm. "I know it's not your fault."

He scoffs.

Sure, it isn't.

**w**

They stumble on a Wookie youngling and take him to Kashyyyk. They've been here before, many missions ago, toward the end of the war. It holds – fond memories. Memories of childhood and a brotherhood untarnished. Crosshair wishes he could have that now, but he has... nothing. He doesn't have anything. He's not anything.

The Wookiees meditate. Crosshair almost hadn't remembered that until seeing it again.

Hunter sits between Tech and Omega now. She's fit seamlessly into Crosshair's place in their circle, and watching rips his heart out, shredding it to nothing.

The kid deserves this life. This gentleness. But it won't mean anything, because it never has, and it didn't protect him either. It won't protect her.

He feels so out of place. The only one who refuses to touch the Force ever again. If he gets to make his choice, fine. He's not choosing this. He never wanted the Force. It infuriates him that his brothers do. They're fine with it all. He's the only one who isn't, because there's just – something wrong with him.

The Force never helped him. Never made him strong enough. Only made him –

"You wanna come?" Omega asks as they make themselves comfortable in the telltale Bad Batch circle.

Crosshair used to sit there. Knee-to-knee with Hunter and Wrecker. Right opposite Tech.

Now...

He remembers Hunter's screams. His tears. The broken, strangled sound of his voice.

No.

"Why should I?" he throws back instead.

Hunter lifts his head, watching. Observing, not judging. Crosshair wishes he could feel him, the soft-smoky-ness and he feels sick and wants to crush and twist and break something. There is no respite. There never has been. Not for him.

He just wants the pain to stop. Forever.

They'd asked him to keep fighting. Keep living. Crosshair couldn't say no. Couldn't hurt them again, but everything –

"Crosshair," Tech says, "I understand you do not agree with this way of life, but that does not mean it is wrong."

Oh, sure, because they can help everybody else. Because they – "When has it ever helped us?" he demands, raw fury and bitterness leaking from his voice.

"Whether it guides us is a question of to where we are looking, and if we follow it."

Crosshair's tense enough his shoulders ache and he bites down harder on the toothpick he's chewing on, enough the wood dents and splinters. He wants to throw something. To hit something.

The screaming. Struggling. The tears hot on his face.

"You're weak." The voices lace together, his ex-master's and the Grand Inquisitors. He saw them both die. Saw – they're gone. Their voices remain, looping and ringing in his head.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe. "No, it doesn't," he hisses.

"I am aware you never fully adapted to this way of life, but it has protected us. It has guided us to where we were required as well."

Crosshair pushes himself to his feet. "You mean you think that was meant to happen?" he hisses. You leaving? You walking out? Me tracking you down? Holding Omega at saber-point? Ahsoka jumping me? The Grand Inquisitor's blade, slashing and burning? The – the torture? Hunter?

He feels sick. His body is trembling, and he feels sick. He's going to be sick to – to –

And Hunter had been stupid enough to try to just pass his lightsaber back to him, like Crosshair hadn't strapped him down and wasn't about to use it to burn his skin inch at a time – because his master is an absolute idiot – master why is it always master –

"Naturally," Tech answers, because he's always so ingenious at anything emotional, "Or it would not have occurred."

His nails are digging into his palm sharp enough it hurts.

Omega makes a quiet, choked sound. "Tech!"

"It is the truth," he replies. "Even if it is difficult to accept."

Crosshair wheels around and stalks into the trees.

**w**

Wrecker's the one to find him, his heavy footfalls crunching over branches and leaves. Crosshair's sitting atop a tree, watching, mind blank and numb and heart still racing and burning. He already wore himself out from crying.

He wants to hurt someone. That urge never goes away.

He's done so much. Doesn't feel like it was enough.

He was going to – to –

Wrecker studies the branch, and jumps up beside him, loathing for heights or no. The branch shudders, but somehow doesn't cave.

"Hey, uh, do ya want something to eat?"

"You're the only one who can think about eating right now, Wrecker." His voice is breaking and shaky. He sounds off from crying.

"They just made somethin'," Wrecker continues, "Back at the house. Do you want me to bring some?"

He wants to cry again.

He wishes something hurt other than the sting in his hands from climbing and his thigh from digging into the tree trunk. The one thing Inquisitors were right about was that pain is helpful. It's very helpful, and his brothers won't let him have that, either.

(He doesn't want to hurt. He just wants it all to stop.)

"I'm not hungry."

"Ya sure? You hardly eat anymore."

"I can't eat!" Crosshair snarls back, "You don't know what happened to Hunter."

The branches shift as Wrecker climbs them, jumping awkwardly onto the branch beside Crosshair. It bends, dipping downwards, but despite their combined weight, it gives no sight of breaking.

He feels like that's supposed to be symbolic of something. Doesn't care what.

"He's not angry at you," Wrecker points out. "Neither are we."

He wishes he didn't have to say that.

Wrecker had been carrying Hunter when they met each other in the hall. He hadn't been able to feel anything but panic then – anything other than fury at Hunter for betraying him by calling the others, for making him fail his mission again.

He'd already tried everything. He'd fought and struggled as hard as he could. He'd broken all the way through and begged. There wasn't anything else he could do, but all that mattered was how he couldn't live through that again. He couldn't – stars, the only thing that had mattered was turning his brothers.

All that mattered was that he not fail again, that he not be alone and constantly in danger, but if he ripped them apart the way he'd played, he'd always be alone.

Crosshair remembers igniting his lightsaber, the way Tech's eyes narrowed angrily on him, the way Wrecker handed Hunter's limp, unmoving figure off to Tech to fight him himself.

"This isn't you, Crosshair! You're our brother. Come back to us!"

He remembers their sabers clashing, remembers Wrecker's weight pressed on his until he was half certain his wrist would snap. It didn't break, but it ached for days, and he never said a word, because it hadn't mattered and Hunter could hardly stand on his own.

Wrecker had been the one he couldn't resist, the one he couldn't turn down who finally brought him home.

He still remembers his brother's arms around him, unyielding as he struggled for the fall. It was so close, and if he let go he could finally stop hurting.

He'd never have to worry about anything again and his brothers would never have to worry about him hurting them, either.

"Because you think this was supposed to happen, too."

"I dunno?" Wrecker sighs, "That's – what the Jedi said."

"I'm not a Jedi!" Crosshair snarls, "I never wanted to be! I didn't ask for this."

"You don't hafta be a Jedi anymore."

"But you are," he replies bitterly, turning away. He'll never be whole, unless he's the same as his brothers, and they won't be if they aren't what he is, but there's no midpoint they can meet at.

Hunter wants to live. The kid wants to fight. Crosshair doesn't want to be a Jedi. Or an anything.

They're a mess.

His mess.

The one he very nicely made.

"Oh," is all Wrecker says, and it irks him for reasons he can't even explain.

"That's all you have to say?"

"I dunno what to say," Wrecker tells him earnestly, with the familiar guilelessness that Crosshair always loved him for. He's so genuine. So honest. Not like Hunter. "None of us wanted it, but uh – we got used to it. An' it's fun."

Crosshair scoffs, dragging his hand over his face. "Then why do I still want to hurt you?" he grits out. "Why won't it stop?"

Wrecker sighs. "I dunno," he replies, shifting a little. "C'mere."

Crosshair shifts, biting his lip and willing his tears to stop falling go away stop hurting he can't do this and finally throws caution into the wind, climbing across the branch to his twin brother.

Wrecker scoops him into his lap, cradling him against his chest as if he were no more than an oversized baby, as if he mattered, as if nothing went wrong at all. "'s not your fault," he promises as Crosshair breathes in shakily, tears spilling down his face. He presses his head to his brother's shoulder, shivering. "You wouldn't hurt us."

"I want to. I can't stop."

"I didn't mean to get ya hurt," Wrecker tells him, "When we left – you were fightin' Hunter, an' I was scared." Wrecker's scared of him, too. It's fair.

Crosshair nods again, sniffing quietly and wiping his eye, pressing his face harder into his brother's shoulder. For right now, at least, he wants to forget about everything else.

"It is lonely without you," Wrecker adds quietly, "I miss ya. You feel... different now."

"I wish I could feel at all." He cut himself off from the Force. That was his choice, his doing, no matter how incredibly stupid it was. he should've thought that over, like, thirty times before his mind gave out and the energy field inside him, inside everything was cut off like slamming a durasteel door.

"Hunter can help you feel again."

"I don't know. I don't want the Force. I never have."

Wrecker hadn't, either, but well – he thought it was fun, and it was. At first. Before Krell. Before everything.

Being here is hard. Maybe he'll feel better when they're away.

(Who's he kidding? He'll never feel better.)

**w**

They deal with the trandoshans, though more will probably be back. They're waiting around after, until Cid contacts them again.

Hunter approaches him, lingering nearby. "We should do a perimeter check," he says, "See if they're coming back."

"Can't you sense it?"

"Of course," he says, "Come on." Ah. So this is about trying to get him somewhere more private.

Crosshair trails him, anyway, trying not to be antsy about it. Could be anything. Doesn't mean he's going to hit him because Hunter's never hit him. He wouldn't. Can't get his brain to stop looping and panicking, though.

"Crosshair," he says gently when they're a good distance off through the trees, "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He tenses up instantly. "I'm not a Jedi anymore, and you're not my master. I don't have to do everything you do."

"I'm not gonna ask you to." He tries not to think about how the look on Hunter's face is the same as Wrecker's and everyone's when they try to reach for him and run into a wall. He feels it in a flicker, gentle and soothing, distantly smokey but too far to be real, even if Hunter is standing right in front of him. "It's supposed to help center your mind and relax. I haven't seen you try since... it happened. Are you sure it won't help?"

It's fair. Crosshair looks away, wrapping his arms around himself.

Hunter's hand is in his, fingers stroking his scar. It's so gentle. "Do you want... to try? Once? If it doesn't work, I won't ask you again." He's sincere. He's trying to help, and that's what makes him cave.

"Fine," Crosshair bites out, still shivering a little.

Hunter lightly pushes his shoulder down, a gesture for him to sit. He sits cross-legged, and Hunter right across from him, close enough they're touching. "Focus on me," Hunter instructs, fingers gently touching his cheek. "Nothing else."

Crosshair nods against him, leaning into his palm and soaking in his warmth. That's easy. Hunter is – okay, Hunter once was a very easy topic and person to focus on. Not so much anymore.

This is the same hand he held. The one he –

He tries to breathe. To focus even when Hunter's hand slips back and the feel of his touch lingers.

Did Wrecker tell Hunter about their conversation? He probably did. Should have. They need to know if he's a threat.

"Don't," Hunter tells him gently, "Stop thinking. Just be one with the Force, and with me."

"I'm not one with you," Crosshair hears himself protesting, "Not anymore."

"We are one, Crosshair. Four, that are one. Your spirit's still alive. I know the Empire couldn't have taken that from you."

He feels tears in his eyes. "They took everything from me."

"Not us. We're here, aren't we?"

"Did we come here to talk, or to meditate?"

Hunter lets out a breathy laugh. "Fair. It's okay. Just try to breathe."

Crosshair closes his eyes, forcing air in and out of his lungs. Deeply. Focus.

Walls. Dark. Always so dark and closing and falling and twisting into an empty abyss –

"Let it go," Hunter tells him, his voice gentle, "They're just memories. They can't hurt you."

Crosshair wants to throw it back at him, that he doesn't know what it's like – but he does. Crosshair made sure of that. He bites his lip instead and struggles to force himself to relax.

Focus on his surroundings. His eyes are closed, but he can see the light. The sun's rays fall through the trees, across his face and them as they sit together amidst the forest. The air smells fresh. Not like it was in the prison on Coruscant – here, he can breathe. He can move. He's sitting, and the dirt is soft.

Neither of those are things he's used to.

He's close enough to Hunter that he can feel his warmth on his knees, and for a fleeting moment, he thinks he can feel something more – a distant prickling energy in his mind, on the other side of a doorway long locked.

A smoky forest, soothing and gentle.

Hunter.

It's gone in a flash, leaving nothing but fresh tears burning in his eyes.

"What do you see?" Crosshair asks. "In me?" Why do you keep trying? Why do you want me?

"I see you. My brother. Crosshair. And I know I failed you. I want you to get better, and... I want to be the one to help you."

"You're wasting your time," he mutters.

"Crosshair," Hunter says firmly, and he grudgingly looks up at the commanding note in his brother's voice. "This is for you. Anything I can do to help is something I should've done a long time ago."

He hears it, even if he doesn't understand. Sometimes, he could swear his brothers and Anakin and the kid have the same heart. They love him. They would do anything for him, and that means more than Crosshair could ever have words to say. "You did what you could."

"I did, but you were still hurt. You do deserve to be better, Crosshair. I know you're still struggling, but, we all are. So am I. But what happened to you wasn't your fault. It's... not your fault your chip activated, or that you weren't with us."

There's a pressure in his chest. It feels heavy. He wants to cry again.

"Try again," Hunter requests, "I know, it's hard, but remember when we first learned this? You stormed out three times and you and Wrecker kept falling asleep on each other."

Ugh. Yeah. He was so angry back then.

"Then Anakin took us to the Room of One Thousand Fountains and talked us through himself."

"You got the hang of it. I didn't."

"He told you never to stop trying. That if it was your life now, you had to accept it and make it work."

"And I told him I don't give up."

"And you never have."

That's not totally true, but he has always tried his hardest, too. He's never been one to give up, even if he doesn't think he can make it, even if the trek seems impossible sometimes.

And he does try.

He tries to breathe, to focus on nothing but Hunter across from him and the smell of the forest, the distant buzzing of insects and shuffling leaves.

It lasts longer. Lasts a while, until Hunter's steady breathing morphs into muffled screaming and his peaceful form flashes out into something with blood and ash and the dark room closes over, where all he can do is struggle and scream.

"I trust you will not fail again?"

"If you want to prove yourself, find your master –"

Crosshair jolts upright again, gasping.

He's still on Kashyyyk, but for a moment...

He keeps zoning out. Losing track of where he is.

Hunter's hands are on his, gripping them tightly. "It's alright, Crosshair. You're safe. They won't get to you here."

Yeah. Sure.

They're still out there. Still... The Inquisitors are still out there searching for them, and it's been so long since they've heard anything.

"It wasn't enough before."

"We weren't together then. We are now."

"But you think I'm not at my best."

His master – brother – twitches, lips parting soundlessly in protest.

"Don't lie," Crosshair snaps. He's shaking. Can't stop shaking. "A rifle's nothing against a lightsaber."

"Unless you hit the handle."

"Would you like to test that theory?"

"If we see the Inquisitor again, you might as well give it a go."

The fear is gnawing at him again, crippling and mind-numbing, the same as it was that moment in the cell when he sensed Tech and Wrecker, and he knew it was all over. That they would get Hunter, and he would fight them and fail, and be left at the mercy of the Inquisitors again.

Hunter doesn't know what it's like to be nothing. Crosshair hopes he never has to.

He might've been tortured, but it was only a few hours. It didn't drag on for days and weeks until he could hardly remember his own name. Until he was willing to cut his own heart out with a lightsaber if it meant he could stop being hurt.

He'll keep that for if he's captured again.

Hunter pushes himself up to his knees, pulling Crosshair against his chest, resting his head on his. "I'm sorry," he admits, "I thought meditating would help."

It should, except Crosshair has been alone with his mind for far too long. "I don't do quiet," he mumbles, fingers digging into Hunter's shirt.

"I guess none of us do."

It's not for the same reasons, and he thinks Hunter knows that, though Crosshair refrains from calling him out on it. Sometimes, it's alright to let him live in delusion. He doesn't even know how Hunter can be alright with meditating after what happened to him. He was alone with his own mind and the electricity running through his body for a good three hours before Crosshair came back.

Three hours.

Straight.

That was a lot, even for Hunter.

It's no wonder he was such a wreck.

He's come back, because he's resilient, but sometimes...

"Do you even remember how to hold a 'saber?" Hunter asks him.

"You're not my master anymore."

"So you've told me. Repeatedly." His older brother pulls back, hand trailing from his back up to his neck and across his face, cupping his cheek. Hunter's smile is strained, and his eyes are heavy, but there's still a boyish glint in them. There's still a little bit of him in there. "Let's get back to the others. Wrecker said they're making dinner."

Crosshair grunts but doesn't argue – for the first in days, he is a little bit hungry, and Wookie food might not be like human food, but it's still good. They're used to it – they spent a long time here.

One of their better missions.

He moves to get up, and Hunter leans in, pressing his lips to Crosshair's forehead.

He melts a little and wants to hug him again, but if they start snuggling, they'll be doing it for hours. "Let's go," he mutters.

The trip back to the Wookiee's village isn't far, and the others are waiting to greet them. Tech shifts upright form where he's leaning on a tree, tapping on his datapad, and Omega waves to them. Wrecker runs to them, yanking them both into a crushing hug.

Crosshair leans into him, closing his eyes.

The Empire might've taken him away from his brothers, but he got them back.

Mostly.

(Even if in the end, the one thing he never planned to break, the one thing he never planned to twist and use against them, was the one thing he lost – their bond.)

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