Chapter 1 - Return
Plot: It's been months since the formation of the Empire. Months since Crosshair's life fell apart and was pieced back together with their new little sister. As the Bad Batch searches for a home amidst the chaos, for peace amidst themselves, an assassin picks up their trail, and there's only one place that can lead them – back to the Inquisitors. (Jedi AU)
WARNING: Aftermath of torture, panic attacks, general dark themes. This applies throughout the entire fic. It IS really dark. Take care of yourselves. 💖
PS. This is a sequel to The Nighttime Fear. :)
~ Rivana Rita
"See anything?" Wrecker asks loudly over Crosshair's comm.
He grunts. "Nothin' to see. You're clear."
"I sense something's wrong. There's a darkness in the Force here," Hunter cautions, his voice warm but laced with the same constant protectiveness he always wears. "Keep an eye out."
"Just get those crates." Going to Serenno would've been safe once. Right now, Crosshair thinks it's stupid. He knows they need it, but... yeah. Not that simple with all the regs everywhere. Cid gave them the intel way too late. The ships are already taking off.
Hunter gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leading Tech, Wrecker, and Omega down for the container.
Crosshair watches until they disappear to move in and set charges on the escort fighters. It's the nearest, and easiest, thing to blow up. His being alone is familiar. Too familiar, and Crosshair aches to be back with them, but he's changed so much. They were never meant to be Jedi, and Crosshair has never accepted that part of their lives. He never moved on or let go like his brothers did. He's not... like them.
He's a monster. He held Omega at saberpoint. He tried to kill Hunter. Held him against the wall, blade at his neck, a second short of cutting his throat. He captured him, strapped him onto the same table they –
He tortured him.
He would have done worse.
He was alone for weeks. It was only weeks, but it feels like a lifetime, something he's long gotten used to. He's home, but he's still alone. He's – always alone.
The rest of his squad are Jedi. All of them, even the kid. Crosshair isn't. He never really was. He never wanted to be, even if Krell demanded he change everything about himself to be something he never believed in. Crosshair hated it. Resented every minute.
That's where he and Hunter started falling.
The minute his eldest brother stepped out of the room, the Council chamber doors shutting behind him, his braid gone. From the moment he heard he was their new master.
From what Hunter tried to make them into.
He hates being alone. It always means he starts spiraling.
(His brothers can say what they want. He tortured Hunter, because he wanted to. Not because he was forced to. He still wants to hurt him.)
"Crosshair, we're sending Wrecker to you now," Hunter's voice crackles over his comm, "Be ready."
"He'll have to get those crates out to the ship," Crosshair grumbles. He hates he can't feel them, can't know if they're okay even if they're away, can't sense if he's in danger. That they have to use comms instead of their bond. "And there's not enough cover. Should I set off the explosives?"
"Affirmative," Hunter replies.
Crosshair backs away from the line into the trees, hitting the detonator. The two fighters go up in a flashing array of light, and the regs are scrambling for cover.
Crosshair scoffs disgustedly – as if he even hit them. Hunter would kill him if he did.
Wrecker's coming towards him, a crate hoisted onto his shoulder.
Crosshair lifts his rifle again, scanning the horizon. The mission's gone too easy and quiet so far. There's no way it's this easy – they're going after an Imperial base. Hunter said he had a bad feeling about it, like it was the start of something... more. That something was changing. Maybe it's nerves talking, but they're probably about to get spotted. Trekking back to the Marauder with the treasure, and being chased would be hard, even for them.
"Here's one," Wrecker tells him cheerfully dropping the crate onto the ground beside Crosshair. "We're gonna grab a few more."
"Better get to it," Crosshair grumbles, eye narrowing through his scope.
Wrecker takes off back, and Crosshair lowers himself to one knee beside the crate, watching. No one's looking his or his brother's directions, but he could swear someone's watching him. The air feels charged and staticky, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Like there's someone here he can't see, some sort of... threat.
Crosshair turns around, scanning the forest, but he sees nothing. Maybe he's just being jittery. That might be it.
But somewhere deep, deep inside, something just feels...
There's a snap-hissing of a lightsaber activating up in the trees, a whoosh as someone jumps.
Crosshair ducks down, rolling over and bringing his rifle up to fire at the black-clothed figure.
They duck the first shot, deflecting the next two into the ground. They're in the same black, the Inquisitor's symbol on their shoulder. A helmet hides their face, but the red visor is telltale. Familiar.
He can't breathe.
Crosshair scrambles backwards when they approach, spinning the blade around and bringing it up. He stumbles to his feet, firing and breaking for the trees. The shooting is drawing attention of the regs, and they're coming.
His heart is pounding. They're closing in on him. trying to box him in, corner him.
The Grand Inquisitor's blade, flashing, burning across his head.
"Perhaps your attachment to your master is what allowed them to escape."
"I trust you will not fail again?"
"If you want to prove yourself, find your master. Bring him to us. Bring all of them to us. And destroy them."
"I don't want to fight you."
"I'm not like you."
"I don't know what – what we did to make you do this. I – I am sorry."
"We need you. Just come back."
Screaming.
The restraints digging into his wrist, his body, burning, burning, burning –
The red blade slashes across his rifle, and sparks flare across it. There's nowhere left to run. He's going to die here, isn't he? He's –
"Hey!" Wrecker yells, and the Inquisitor is thrown a good twenty feet into a tree trunk, where she drops with a yelp. "Why don't you pick on someone not your size?"
Pretending Crosshair wasn't a good half foot taller than the person in question.
The Inquisitor is on her feet again, standing shakily, but still standing, ignited lightsaber in hand. Wrecker has his own double-blade out, the sapphire shimmering in the dark shadows of the tree line.
Crosshair pulls his hand blaster, firing at the approaching troops. There's too many. He reattaches his rifle to his back – Tech can fix it easily – and backs away. There are two crates out here, but there's no time to collect either.
Wrecker lunges at the Inquisitor with a roar, their blades clashing together. She waits for him, blade raised, paring his first blow and ducking, spinning around in a near attempt to kick him. He nearly takes her leg off, but she rocks back easily enough, delivering a rapid series of blows. Wrecker catches the end of her blade, spinning it up and pressing against it. She skids back across the dirt, boots digging into the ground.
"Get to the ship!" Wrecker yells to him.
Crosshair throws a panicked glance at the crates, the approaching regs, and the lightsaber duel.
He runs.
A lightsaber would be useful. The Force would be useful. "Our connection with the Force makes us stronger, more effective," Hunter had told him once, and Crosshair knew that, but he could do without it being slapped in his face so viciously.
This is what he gets for cutting himself off from the Force and being a complete and utter idiot.
The lightsabers are still flashing behind him.
He feels like a coward for running. None of his brothers would've done that. Nor would Omega. They'd fight to the death, but Crosshair can't use the Force because he cut himself off instead of dealing with all these stupid issues like any good soldier or Jedi would.
He's running.
He never stops running.
He turns back for cover fire with his hand blaster a few times.
Wrecker lifts the Inquisitor and flings her into a tree before stampeding after.
Treasure abandoned. Survival takes precedence.
He doesn't ask where Hunter, Tech, and Omega are. Hunter will take care of them. He always does.
It's familiar to be with Wrecker. It's – safe. Safer than being alone. He and Wrecker are one, allegedly. They were twins. It still... feels like it.
Crosshair stumbles to a stop, nearly tripping into a stupid tree root and catching himself on its trunk, panting. Wrecker grabs his arm – leaning into each other, exhausted and injured but too stubborn to die, blue blades held in front of them, it's so dark but he sees Hunter's snarl, Tech panting and gripping his shoulder, Krell's laughter – hoisting him upright. "Keep moving," he grunts, and they take off again, breaking into a run through the trees.
The ramp lowers when they approach, and Crosshair ducks behind Wrecker to fire a few more shots at their pursuers before sprinting aboard. He makes for the cockpit, firing up the engine and sitting in the pilot's seat. Wrecker's covering until Crosshair finally gets them aloft.
He can't think about anything. Not how they failed, not how they're still being chased, and Hunter and Tech and Omega haven't checked in yet – only that there's still an Inquisitor on their heels.
Somehow.
After months and months of quiet, of nothing, of Imperial avoiding – the Inquisitors are on their tail.
"I thought you said the Inquisitors were gone," Crosshair snaps, heart pounding.
"They were!" Wrecker protests, "We rigged the whole place!"
"Clearly not," Crosshair snarls tears burning his eyes for something he can't even name or place. All he knows is he's shaking – he can't stop trembling and his heart is going and he feels exhausted and worn. Not as though he's been anything else since... Knightfall.
"You okay?" Wrecker asks him.
"Yes," he snaps back. Almost feels bad about it instnatly. Wrecker's the one who sat beside him through it all, no matter how awful Crosshair was to him. He has no right to yell at him. Wrecker wasn't the one who made the mistake in the Temple, either. That was always on Hunter and Tech.
"Hunter says to fly near the palace," Wrecker calls from the back, where he's on the guns and ready to get the pursuing fighters off their tail.
Crosshair never heard the comms. It must've been telepathic. They used to be able to do that. It's the one thing he misses from his time as a Jedi – being able to feel his brothers in his mind, to feel Wrecker's warmth and Tech's steadfast loyalty and Hunter's protectiveness. He misses being able to talk to any one of them at whim, and he wonders what Omega feels like. He never got to know.
Crosshair lowers the ramp when he spots the blur of three emerald 'sabers, and another, smaller turquoise. He twists the ship by, lowering it, and turning his head to look back. Omega's little form thumps in first, extinguishing her blade and skidding across the ship. Tech is second, and Crosshair pushes himself up, switching to the co-pilot's to give Tech the wheel. Hunter's last, as he always is, covering until the ramp shuts and they lift off. He clips both blades to his belt, sliding into the seat behind Tech.
Hunter is panting a little, too, throwing a glance at Omega. "You okay, kid?"
She smiles brightly up at him. "Yep."
The air feels cold. Maybe it's just Crosshair.
Hunter suddenly inhales sharply. "Tech, move!" he snaps.
The ship jolts forwards sharply and Wrecker yelps from the back when a spinning red lightsaber sails past the back viewport.
They just barely missed the flying lightsaber. Barely.
Crosshair sinks back in his chair, heart hammering, but he doesn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until they're safely in hyperspace. "So, we failed the mission," he says finally, breaking the silence.
"We didn't fail," Wrecker objects, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "We, uh, had a detour."
Crosshair glares at him.
"We got out of there," Hunter interrupts, "That's what's most important."
"Was that a lightsaber?" Omega inquires. "Who was chasing us?"
"Apparently, the Inquisitors aren't all dead," Crosshair answers shortly.
"We need to contact Anakin," Hunter asserts.
Yeah. Because he always knows what to do, doesn't he?
**w**
Tech repairs Crosshair's rifle while they're waiting for Anakin to finally decide to answer his comm. When he drops in, he looks a little flustered but offers a way too cheerful wave. "Hey, boys," he greets, "What's going on? I sensed a disturbance in the Force."
Hunter had said the same. Something about a dream, too.
"I've been having... dreams," Hunter says, "I think something's changed. Something... dark. There's someone after us. An Inquisitor, even if we thought they were all dead."
"Some of them could have been out on missions," Anakin replies, though his face is worried.
"They were all recalled," Crosshair replies roughly, "All of them. After – after the mission, we were to find you." He can't look at any of them. He told them this before, but remembering is hard. Talking is hard.
He hadn't known what the Emperor wanted with Anakin, and it wasn't his place to argue, but he hadn't... wanted him to be hurt.
"We haven't heard anything of them all this time," Anakin adds, "It is troubling."
No kidding.
"Just be careful," Anakin cautions, "You don't want to draw the Empire's attention more than you already have. You've been through a lot. I can try to track them down and get some answers, but we'll need a good description of who we're after."
"Wrecker fought her for a few minutes," Hunter answers, "Crosshair saw her, but Tech, Omega and I weren't there."
"She – used Form IV," Wrecker blurts, "I think?"
Tech throws Wrecker a sideways glance.
Crosshair sighs impatiently. "She did. She held her own on Wrecker. She's fast. Small. Shorter than Hunter."
Hunter throws him a half exasperated look, but doesn't voice the fierce disapproval he probably has of being called small. What? He is.
"We might have to wait for her to make another appearance," Anakin replies, "It is possible the Sith are training another batch, though I don't know where they could have come from. Either way, you will have to remain on alert."
Hunter glances at Crosshair again, expression tight and worried. Crosshair resolutely doesn't look at him.
"So, we just sit here," Omega repeats, "And do... nothing?"
"There is nothing we can do," Tech replies, "Until we find a lead, and we need to be avoiding drawing further attention to ourselves. Now that we have been sighted, the Empire will pick up our trail."
"That's not a risk we're taking," Hunter agrees, "Just, uh, tell us if you find anything."
"Of course," Anakin agrees with a nod. "Just be safe."
They've already been through enough with the Empire, because of the Inquisitors. Crosshair can never forget it, and it never stops haunting him. He can never stop remembering every minute away from his brothers. The initial fury and fear of being alone. The confusion and hurt of meeting Omega and knowing there was someone out there more loyal to him than his own brothers, than the only people who mattered. The raw, blinding panic of his failure, the clashing lightsabers, the –
Pain. Lights. Sound. Screaming. Hands holding him down – thrashing, struggling. The broken sounds of his own sobs.
He had cried for Hunter. Can't remember how many times he called his brother's name, but he knows it was at least once when he was lost in a half lucid state. He knows he tried reaching them all. Wrecker was the only one who... reacted. Who felt him. Who answered.
None of them were there when Crosshair went through it – because of them, for them, always for them.
They never answered. They never came.
They got him out, but... the Inquisitors are back again.
On their tail.
And Crosshair will never be able to sleep with that knowledge hanging over them.
"We'll have to go back to Ord Mantell," Hunter decides, "Tell Cid we need to keep a low profile."
"It will only be a matter of time before the Empire arrives there," Tech points out.
"Then where'll we go?" Omega asks worriedly. "There's a whole galaxy, but... isn't the Empire almost everywhere? And aren't we supposed to be helping people?"
"Things... change," Hunter sighs, "That's what Jedi do, but we're more than Jedi, and Anakin's right we've been through a lot."
"Other people need us, too."
It's so strange to see. Crosshair never cared about this. He doesn't know why Omega does. It's like she was meant to be a Jedi. None of them were. Even if Hunter and Tech – even Wrecker – adapted to it, that's not what they were meant to be.
Hunter is so different with her. He's not as harsh. Crosshair tries his hardest not to be jealous.
The kid deserves gentleness, but Crosshair always wanted it, too. He never got it. Hunter never gave it to him, either. Not like this.
"We help where we can," Hunter answers, "But we need each other, too."
Crosshair can't imagine living without any of his brothers again. He lives with the fear of it constantly, and he can't deal with it. He can't – do that again. He doesn't want to worry about it.
**w**
They usually sleep beside each other now. Pretty much always do, actually, and Crosshair presses into Hunter's warmth against his back. One of Hunter's arms is looped over his waist. He tugs Crosshair's sleeve up the slightest bit, fingers tracing up and down his arm, over the still engrained, permanent burn scar that trails all the way down to the back of his hand.
He doesn't want to think about it. Hunter promised he would keep him safe, and Crosshair doesn't believe it anymore, but – but he wants to, and after earlier, that makes it harder. The Empire's still out there. He thought the Inquisitors were gone, that he had nothing left to worry about.
He remembers when he got this. His brothers knew it, too – Hunter had insisted they treat the scarring everywhere, and Crosshair had fought it, because he didn't want to. It wasn't necessary, and it didn't feel like he deserved it. He doesn't. Didn't. But Hunter had dragged him into the 'fresher to put bacta on them, anyway, and sat with him a while, refusing to leave again.
"Were you going to do this to me?" Hunter asks him, and the sudden abruptness of the question freezes him. They all know how he got the scars all – everywhere. The one on his right hand is the only one visible, though. Aside from the one on his head, obviously, which – which at least that one he got while fighting.
"I think now's when they say you should listen to your master."
Master. Because all he ever has is a master and he can never make his own choices, can never – can't anything.
Crosshair remembers getting it. Vividly. It'd been the first of many. Remembers struggling as the plasma blade pressed against his skin, remembers trying to lash out, to make it stop but there was nothing he could do. He remembers crying, too. Isn't proud of that.
"Yes."
He was. He would have. That's what he came back for, but Hunter was crying and he was bleeding and he just – just couldn't. He had meant to. Was perfectly ready and willing to, before it started, but – but he couldn't just stand there and watch as his brother was in pain. Walking out was easier. Still felt like he should've stayed.
He was going to do it, to hold Hunter's hand as he burned his lightsaber across his skin, and he couldn't – couldn't touch that hilt again after what he was about to do.
Hunter sighs. Doesn't say anything, but he works his arm around Crosshair's waist and pulls him tightly against his chest. His hand slips down a bit, idly stroking in a circle on Crosshair's stomach.
Firm and warm.
Here.
Safe.
Gentle.
It's him, so him and he doesn't deserve this not after what he was going to do. Thinking about how in-depth he had thought about what he'd do to Hunter makes him sick. He'd been scared, and he didn't know any other way out, and they don't hold it against him, but it'd be easier if they did.
Crosshair pulls Hunter's hand closer, hugging it to his chest and clinging. His arm is pressed against Crosshair's side, and he feels – safe here, but he – he probably shouldn't? Hunter couldn't protect him before, and Crosshair was going to hurt him. He did. It still haunts him, and it's been months.
He still dreams of Hunter's screams, and he doubts the deep seeded loathing will ever fade. And yeah, Hunter chose to leave and hurt him, but Crosshair – Crosshair tortured him.
Hunter's too calm, too kind and gentle to ever say anything, but Crosshair knows he's still haunted by it, too. He tries so hard not to get angry. He'd yelled at Hunter right after – after, and he'll never forget how violently he'd flinched. Hunter's scared of him, but that's not enough to stop him from trying to help.
(He was going to do the same to Tech. to Wrecker, once he got them. He was –)
"It's alright, Crosshair," he says with a quiet sigh. "Get some sleep. We'll be here when you wake."
This time.
Finally.
He shifts a little, careful not to jostle Hunter's hold on him, closing his eyes.
Tries not to remember the screams looping over in his mind.
Tries not to remember the awful, twisted part of his mind constantly demanding pain and repayment for something his brothers could never have helped.
**w**
Crosshair drifts to mostly wakefulness somewhere in the night to Hunter panting and rolling away from him, disentangling their limbs. He turns over onto his back, grumbling at the lack of warmth and contact.
Hunter sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He's nearly touching the opposite wall. "It's – it's nothing. Just a dream."
Nightmare.
"I don't know what we did to make you do this. I – I am sorry."
Crosshair makes an acknowledging sound, understanding – they all have their own demons.
This happens a lot. Hunter has moments he can't handle being near him. He hates the dark. Closed spaces. The Marauder is both.
"It's okay. It's nothing. Just go back to sleep."
Crosshair knows a lie when he sees it. His half hazy brain is too tired to call him out on it though, so he rolls onto his back and closes his eyes again
"Tech, can you?" Hunter is asking quietly.
The response is hushed, fully aware of Omega sleeping in the gunner's mount and Wrecker curled nearby, but Tech is beside him moments later.
"Are you alright?" His older brother's voice is hushed and gentle.
"Yeah," he mutters, automatically leaning into Tech's warmth.
Tech had been there, steadfastly determined when they came to rescue Hunter, when he'd carried him back to the ship and when he'd treated him afterwards, hurt but unjudging, no matter what Crosshair had done to him. They knew it was him.
They never said, but Crosshair knew they knew.
The weighted look in Omega's eyes when she looked at him, the hurt and horror in Wrecker's, the tightness in Tech's.
They all knew what happened to Hunter, what Crosshair did to him, but they don't know what he was going to do. They never will.
He's... glad it never got that far.
(He remembers how terrified he'd been when he felt them, knowing if – if Hunter escaped again, he'd suffer the punishment all over, if they didn't kill him right off – they said he was too useful to kill. He remembers hitting him.)
(Tech said it broke his rib.)
That's not a part of his life Crosshair ever wants to touch again.
(Up on the gunner's mount, in Omega's little room, a familiar white kyber crystal shimmers, singing its quiet song, waiting for someone – someone gone to pick it up again.)
**w**
"I located Clone Force 99," she says, standing before the Grand Inquisitor. "They were on Serenno, attempting to intercept Dooku's fortune. I prevented their attempts."
"But you failed," he replies, glowering down at her.
"A temporary setback. One I will not allow a repeat of. They will not escape."
"Be sure they don't. You are on a mission, Sister. It would be unfortunate for your fate to be as theirs."
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