Chapter 24 - When The Stars Align (Post-S1)

Author's Note: I just want to drop a huge thank you to everybody who's left comments, kudos, etc. on this fic! 💖 I admittedly lost motivation for it for quite a while, but it's finally coming back, and I'm trynna pick back up writing (I left off in the beginning of Entombed). I can't promise I won't need another short posting break, but I hope it'll be pushed off a bit now, thanks to all of you. 💖

Also, as a note to anybody who's getting attached to Vision's character, I am planning more fics with her! This is the main one still, but I have a few other ideas because I can't part with her. xD Primarily, a few multiversal, reality-jumping things (because how could Vision NOT be somewhere out there in the multiverse when realities get wildly different from Canon lol), and this admittedly slightly ridiculous fic I'm overly addicted to where she's a year older or so, and somehow becomes a CX. Somehow. Plot picks up post third season, where they all survive and patch themselves up, fully murder mode, but I should stop talking before I spill the entire thing :( xD

Warning: Self-harming, depression.

~ Rivana Rita

My brothers and especially Omega are fussing over me nonstop, anyway. It's driving me crazy. I don't need it. Don't want it. I want... to be fine. Normal. I can't See anymore, though. Sometimes, I catch little whisps of things, but I quickly close off. I don't want it back. I don't want to See Crosshair again. After how many nights I spent staring up at the ceiling, trying to wish it away, I want it to just be over. I think I should be allowed that.

Maybe not. Maybe I shouldn't be. I have no idea, but either way, the numbness doesn't go away.

I feel so dead and empty, it feels like I'm walking around in a haze. Time blurs together. I think I'm eating, but I don't really know. Don't care. It's just draining our resources, anyway. Cid asks me about the armor thing, but I brush her off so sharply, she has the decency not to broach the topic again.

My brothers are treating me like I'm glass. I hate it. I'm not – okay, maybe I am. Can't trust my own judgment for that, either. I don't even know what to do with myself half the time. I feel so... I know I'm in place here, because we're all a broken mess with no thanks to Crosshair, and sometimes, I still wonder how he feels. Don't want to think about it, though.

What did we do that made him angry enough to leave us? How did we fail him? Why weren't we enough?

Hunter does get me that grappling hook, though, and I hug him for it, even if I feel nothing. He's so depressed. Maybe what I need to be doing is trying to help him. He can't do this alone. I don't even get why he's trying.

I don't feel anything, and I'm tired of feeling nothing. I don't think about it, though – trying to throw myself into the final painting touches and whatever nonsense Tech tells me to study.

When it finally happens, it happens fast.

We walked into a bit of a trap by some nasty band of criminals, and there's an explosion. Omega's flung off the side. I can't think of anything except that's Omega, can't let her die when I jump off, after. Just like I promised Hunter, the grappling thingy came in handy. We both would've fallen some hundred feet onto the rocky ground if I hadn't had it.

Omega grabs my hand, and I jerk her upwards to reach the line herself.

I look down.

The ground is so, so far below us. I wonder if it would hurt. Wonder how it would feel if I just let go. Wonder how it'd feel to fall that far, if it'd hurt, or if it'd stop hurting into a blissful of nothing.

I would, except Omega is clinging to me, and I drag her up.

Hunter's waiting for us at the top. He grabs Omega's hand, pulling her over the edge, and she collapses into him, panting. I wish he came for me first. I know I made him promise not to, but when he turns to me, asking if I'm okay, I just shake my head with an "I'm fine" that sounds numb and fake even to my own ears.

I don't stop thinking about it. I don't think it would've hurt much. I wish I wasn't... here. I wish I didn't have to worry about any of this. I wish I – a lot of things.

I can't stop remembering Bracca. I remember her panicking. I remember her yelling at me to stop, remember her throwing her knife at me. She could've killed me. I have no idea how she got so good with knives – she never did that before. I know it's self-defense, and I deserved it, but she's my sister that could've gone through me. I could've died and it would've been Omega. I feel so useless. Empty. I don't want to keep getting up.

I haven't felt anything for so long, I can't help wondering if it's... real at all. If there ever was anything real about any of this.

I've seen Hunter do that knife-twirl thing when he's bored, and I pull out my own, trying to balance it between my fingers the way he does, but I still don't know how. I asked him to teach me to use it. But now, I just... I can't do this.

I wish I wasn't a burden on them. I wish I could actually feel something, wish I had something with which to be useful. I wish I didn't have to feel like this at all. I wish I wasn't here to feel. I don't want to be away from my family for anything, but I just – I'm so, so tired of trying to be fine when I can't. None of us should have to feel this way. Says a lot about how bad Crosshair destroys us. We're falling apart at the very seams, forgetting who and what we are.

How many times have I died since I joined our brothers? It's been many, and I don't care about any of them. I nearly drowned on Kamino. Crosshair nearly killed us un Bracca, after I nearly killed 'mega. Would he have regretted it? I know I would've.

Maybe I don't deserve to be here. Maybe that's it. I'd been so, so scared on Kamino. Crosshair saved Omega and I, but that doesn't mean he did it for me. Omega's worth saving. I am not, and I never have been.

I never will be.

Omega through my knife at me, and if she was off by a hairline, she could've killed me. I wouldn't even have cared – I wish...

Am I even real? Is any of this?

I feel so disconnected now. I'm still a little sore from the explosion thing – my hands are sore from climbing and my shoulders are sore, but the pain is the only thing that keeps me grounded. Don't know what that says about me. I flick the blade around, lightly drawing the blade over my arm.

I have no idea why I just did that. It stings, not as much as I thought, but still. And probably deeper than I thought.

I jump at Hunter's voice. "You okay?"

I shake my head.

"Careful," he says, and it's honestly impressive how calm he sounds for having seen what he did. "Sure you're ready to train with that?"

"Wasn't an accident," I say sullenly, "I have no idea why I did that."

Hunter stares at me. I can't tell if he believes it or not.

The blood is warm on my arm. It doesn't hurt that bad, really, but the blood is fast and warm and enough that I ought to be worried. I can't really smell it, but Hunter probably can. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just – I don't know."

Hunter kneels in front of me, reaching for my arm. I feel stupidly self-conscious about it, but it's Hunter, so I let him have it. His touch is grounding, anyway.

I'm holding my knife still. That he's here without a weapon of his own says a lot about trust. Not that I'd – but Crosshair hurt him, and I couldn't blame him for being jittery. He ought to be. I'd feel better if he was. It's not like I haven't hurt people before, too. It's not like I'm any better than all the things I hate Crosshair for.

"Do you want to talk?" He asks finally, and it's a shred jarring to say that, because I'm always talking. Everyone wants me to shut up. No one wants me to talk. Unless I'm distracting someone.

"I – uh – I don't know. I was thinking about Bracca. I feel so numb or something. I wasn't sure if I'd even feel it. I kinda wanted to know I'm still here. I – this is gonna sound bad." I don't know why I want to tell him this. Once, I would have talked to Crosshair, if he'd listen, but oh, that's a joke now. I don't know why I was stupid enough to believe he actually cared.

"That's okay," Hunter replies, and he just waits. He's so quiet now. He's never been overly talkative, but I remember a time when he was as energetic and chaotic as the rest of them. Now, he just seems so... dead. I miss who he used to be so badly it hurts. Maybe there were often times he was tired, but he was never like he is now.

"Omega threw my knife at me. On Bracca," I blurt out, not looking at him, not really looking anywhere. "I was about to – and she took out my bow with it. She coulda missed. Inch off and she could've killed me. I understand it and it doesn't matter, but I just wonder – if she'd done it, then I wouldn't hafta be here to – I can't deal with this. I can't live with this. How am I supposed to know when someone else will decide they don't want me?"

Hunter doesn't say anything. I wait a heartbeat, but he says nothing at all.

"Call it selfish," I mutter, turning away, "I already know that."

"Maybe," Hunter replies finally, "A little. Sometimes... We were halfway in to find him when he came after us. I didn't understand what was happening. Why – and it would've been easier if I hadn't ducked the first shot, but the easy way out isn't the right one. It rarely is. And you need me. We need you, too."

Hunter feels it, too. Maybe I'm not quite as messed up and broken as I thought I was, or maybe it's just that Hunter is far more than I thought he was.

"I used to think he did."

"I know," Hunter murmurs, "Me too."

There's really nothing more we can say. I smear the knife off on my hand – I know that's gross. What about it – and slide it away into its sheath, leaning forwards to hug him. Hunter holds me tightly against his chest, sighing.

"I don't know how to deal with this," I confess, "I know I failed you. That you need me to be something I'm not."

"It's okay," Hunter assures, "I know it's not your fault. We need... to find a way to move on. To survive."

"I know."

"What... do you want?" he asks me finally.

"What about you?" I ask, "That matters as much as 'mega. She's the one I can't imagine living without most, but... we all need each other. I'll go wherever you do. Wherever you need me to."

"I... want you to be alright," he confesses, "I don't care about anything else."

I don't believe him, but I pull back, anyway, actually looking at him for the first time since everything went Dark. "Come on," he requests, pulling me towards the 'fresher, "I'll... clean this up for you."

**w**

"Try again?" I request, retrieving my knife from where it clattered uselessly to the floor.

Omega groans, pulling her bowstring back again. "Ready."

What can I say? We are both stupid. No shock there! Not that I'm making fun of 'mega, honest. I don't know why she agreed to this, why Cid agreed to it, or why Hunter agreed to it, but I've seen Wrecker and Crosshair do it all time! Why can't we? Except, you know, that I can't throw my knife right, and Omega definitely can't shoot like Crosshair could.

The whole shooting-a-knife-out-of-the-air thing is cool, okay? Even if it marks everything up, and we're in a corner! We can be careful. No one's gonna get hit.

Oh, you know, I thought we could be careful until Omega hits it at all the wrong angles and it zips across the room. Echo jerks out of the way before the thing can take his foot off, and I squeak.

Hunter stands.

I jump behind Wrecker's legs in the desperate hope he might. You know. Save me from murder. Being murdered, whatever.

"That's enough practice for now," Hunter decides, "Vision, give me your knife-sheath."

"Why?" I squeak, still hiding. "What am I supposed to do with my knife? Eat it? Stick it inside me?"

"I was thinking maybe I'll keep it until you know how to use it."

"I do! I just don't have the best judgment in using it!"

"That's exactly why –"

"Vision is perfectly capable of using it," Tech interjects. "She has had enough training for it not to be unsafe."

"Tech, why is the only time you defend me when I nearly commit homicide of Echo's feet?"

Hunter sighs. "Vision."

"Okay, okay, fine." I'm a little annoyed, I'll admit, but after what he saw just a couple days ago, I know why he's scared. Plus the Crosshair-nearly-stabbing-him thing that I still can hardly believe happened. I don't blame him if he's a bit jittery around knives right now. "I can't see you though, so I hope you can catch!" I pluck it off my belt and just throw it. It clanks onto the ground somewhere, but I think Hunter goes to retrieve it anyway. It feels so strange to have it off, and I miss it instantly.

"I'll teach you how to use it later," he offers. For some reason, I don't exactly buy it, but I don't argue, either. I need more training in – in everything if I'm actually going to be useful now. I don't have my Vision abilities anymore, so I need to... try to make up for that.

**w**

Everything was, you know, okay until nighttime when I walk in on Hunter playing with Wrecker's knife like a literal five-year-old. "That's not faiiir!" I whine, "I dared you to do the giant knife-twirl nonsense with Wrecker's knife once! And you ignored me." I cross my arms grumpily, pointing up at him.

"It got tempting," he replies sheepishly, "But anyway, I can teach you if you want."

"I do," I answer, shuffling forwards, "I'm sorry about earlier. I thought we could make it work, and I just – I want to feel again. I don't mean to worry you."

"It's okay," Hunter replies, "I thought maybe I should... let you settle a bit before giving it back? I know you're ready to learn, but I don't know if you're ready to keep it. I don't want you to get hurt."

That's fair. I nod, feeling numb inside. I can't feel anything except numb. Kinda wish I could, but at least it doesn't hurt anymore? Not as much, anyway. I can deal with trying to be useful in other ways. Not with constantly drowning over Crosshair's loss.

"I know," I promise with another nod. "It's okay."

Hunter nods back, but I don't think he's... happy about this. He's still afraid, afraid of... Well, everything. Could be anything. "Just, uh, be safe," he requests.

"I will," I promise, even if I know I won't do it. Can still try, though.

Hunter can't do this on his own. He – he needs our help, just like I tried telling Wrecker on Daro and it went way over his head somehow. If there's nothing useful I can do, and if it's... not something that our siblings will do for him, then I will. I know what I need to do, who I need to be, though I have no idea how to go about doing it.

I love him to the edge of the galaxy and back. Won't let anything get in between that. Not now, not ever. If no one else is brave enough to protect Hunter, I will.

I'm not afraid to try, only afraid of failing in the same way I know he always is. I've always understood it, but it feels like I finally can see it in a way I never have before. I know why he's afraid, because I am, too. I guess for once, Hunter doesn't have to share it alone.

**w**

"If you wanted to know how to fly, this isn't it!" Echo yells as the speeder zig-zags gloriously across the sky, upside down.

I laugh breathlessly. Can't help it. "It's definitely fun, though!" I argue, clinging onto the handlebars for dear life. Okay. Not really, cuz my life isn't that amazing or anything, but I kinda don't want to crash so many feet to my death.

"When I offered to let you learn to fly, I didn't mean it like this!" He sounds annoyed. Maybe he's just freaked out.

"I'm trynna flip it over, but um. I don't think it's working." Mayyyybe learning to fly on a mission wasn't my brightest idea, after all – on a speeder bike, anyway – but I've done worse. Yelling at Crosshair was definitely worse. Or at least when it gets shot? "What if we just jump off?"

"We'll crash!" Echo snaps, irritated, "And that's not to mention how high up we are."

"High," I crow, "I think this thing has a ruptured something or other, and we're trailing smoke."

"I can see that!" Except Echo, with only one hand, doesn't have much maneuverability except just hanging there.

"Well, at least you see somethin'!" I try swinging myself over, missing and nearly falling. I yelp ungracefully. "Fine! Then maybe we need to rewire the – something or other."

"While we're flying? Are you crazy?"

"Yes! Worth a shot, isn't it?" I climb over the handlebars, glaring at the smoking something. I'll probably shock my hand off if I even try touching that thing. Wires are – ugh. I take it back, I have no idea what to do. "You know what? I'm starting to think jumping is the best option, actually, and we're heading for a – wait, is that a mountain? I don't wanna become rock dust!"

"Try to angle us up," Echo requests.

Guess my first flying lesson is how-to-fly-an-upside-down-burning-speeder, which is far more fun than it ought to be. I grab the handlebars again and try yanking. Isn't really working.

"I can officially decide I don't wanna die like this!" I whine.

"Pull harder."

"Excuse me sir, but I'm hanging my whole weight on this thing! What am I supposed to do, rip the handlebars off? I'm not Wrecker!"

We do end up crash landing. Ungracefully, but we jump off once I clear the mountain top – okay, we hit a small ledge on the mountain, technically, and the speeder crashes gloriously into the side and explodes. "That's a Wrecker landing," I say, rolling my shoulders. They're so sore. Ugh. Hanging off of stuff is very annoying. "Should I be proud?"

"No," Echo says firmly, grabbing my hand. I let him pull me upright. Echo comms the others with our location while I make for carefully climbing around the rocky edge towards the crash sight. "What are you doing?" he asks, watching me.

"There's gotta be something rebuildable in here," I reply. It's a smoking pile of charcoal, but really, I've seen Tech build stuff from worse. I carefully poke at it with my boot, jumping back when the rocks beneath it screech a little and some sparks fly. They hit the leather of my boot, and I wince.

"There's nothin' left of that," Echo objects.

"Nah, Tech's made things from worse," I reply, crouching beside it. "I think it'd help me have something useful to do, y'know? Maybe we can drag it back to Ord Mantell and sell it for something."

"The only thing this'll be useful for is spare parts," Echo huffs.

"I'm useful for spare parts, too," I snip back, "But we make do. How about my first speeder lesson – oh, maybe it's second speeder lesson? – can count as rebuilding a speeder bike from a trash pile."

Echo sighs. "You're not going to stop, are you?"

"Nope."

"Alright," he sighs, "I'll help you see if there's even anything salvageable."

"If people didn't throw stuff out so much, you never know how much can be salvaged. Really. Imagine if the Kaminoans did that to all of us. Maybe I just like broken things." I kick at it again, and the metal screeches, sparking again. Uh. Oops. Maybe I beat it up more than I realized.

Still though. "Ohhh, look! The handlebars are intact! These are my new best friends!"

Echo sighs loudly, and I giggle. I mean it, though – maybe I do just like broken things. They're familiar, and I like machines. They're so much easier than people.

**w**

Things are quiet. They're too quiet – it's not bad, but I don't like it, and I wish things were different. That's pointless to say, though – I've already told myself that many times. We all know it, too. Things are changing. None of us are happy with it, or even comfortable or accepting.

I've seen how we've all changed, are changing, and I still feel so numb. I don't want to think about it, though – I throw myself into whatever my siblings need me to be. Doesn't matter how exhausting it is.

I get back up, because that's what they need me to do, over and over. No matter how tiring it is.

I still don't ask Wrecker about the dreams I know he still has. He's so quiet though, and he still... broods. I sit on the floor next to him, leaning my head on his arm wordlessly. Can't really say anything about it – there's no way I have to make it better, to keep him from hurting. Guess the only good thing about pain is that at least we know we're still alive.

Wrecker pats my knee, and I don't think there are words to go between us anymore. Our bond is far deeper than words.

I don't see a light in the future for us. Sometimes, memories of the visions I had – things so far off in the future, far enough away that it feels like a distant dream of a nightmare. I know we're not going to get him back. I – I'm not gonna see him again, and if I do, it won't be... good. I can't believe it'll happen. I don't think about it much, but I still remember. I remember feeling Crosshair's hand in my hair. I remember his warmth. That's not something I can forget.

I can't ever stop thinking about what's missing, no matter how desperately achingly badly it hurts to remember his face. I hope wherever we go from here, we'll be able to... stick together, that we'll be able to pull through to the end. No matter what sort of living nightmare lies ahead of us.

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