#idk sho was laughing but i think it was the rest of the brothers idk! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 16)

(Gif credit HERE)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: I’m sorry I uploaded a bit later than usual today, I’m just idk, I think I’m nearing a burnout on this. But anyways, I’m sorry, you’re not here to hear me whine lol. Today as promised there’s a second chapter (17), and schedule will stay as is for now. Thank you, and hope you like it.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr

You can certainly say the people of Kattegat have surprised you. A few days since the King’s announcement that you are to be his wife, their queen, and yet the whispers, the curious eyes; they don’t seem to be any louder or more insistent than before they knew of who you’ll become once their King returns.

You are grateful, you cannot pretend otherwise. To be normal, or as normal as can be in these strange times, it is a luxury you do not take for granted.

So, as it is your new normal, you help the women at the apothecary every day, learning more and more, and yet also having opportunities to teach them better ways. The Gods made you smart, and they also made you arrogant, you are not one to deny it, which is why you and a warrior-like woman have been arguing on how to treat a simple but deep wound for quite a while now.

“We have always done it this way.” The blonde woman argues, but you shake your head.

“That doesn’t mean it is the best way,” You stir the boiling water, pour it over the wine mixed with vinegar and offer it to the woman. “Trust me, I was a healer all over the Mediterranean and the Silk Roads. I know what works best.”

“Arrogant little witch, aren’t you?”

You cock your head to the side and curve your mouth downwards, doubtful, “Is it truly arrogance if it’s founded on actual skill?”

She blinks but then softens her expression, and with a rueful smile on her lips she says, “If your tongue is just as wicked when you face the King, I pity the poor fool.”

“Are any of you going to clean this or sho-…” The warrior sitting in the ground grumbles, but the blonde woman silences him with a hit to the top of his head.

“Shush,” Her eyes remain on you and after a breath she extends a hand, “Fine, give me that water.”

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“He’s Viking, he can take it.” She offers with a sly smile, that quickly falls at your mocking glare when the man squirms and groans as the hot mixture is used to clean the wound on his shoulder.

When the man leaves with a dressed wound that will remain clean thanks to your help, the woman brings the big bowl of fresh water so you can both wash your hands.

As you do, she concedes, “Your ways are proving to be useful, witch.”

“I have a name.” You quip quietly, your voice a grumble. The Viking woman chuckles.

“I know. But ‘witch’ is not an insult, at least to us. It’s a title. You wage war, you sit next to the King, you are welcomed in any hearth.”

“I am no Völva.” You argue calmly, recognizing the traits and benefits she lists as those of a traveling Viking Völva.

“What would you be, back in your home?”

“Dead.” You reply dryly, to which the woman laughs. Clasping a heavy hand on your shoulder, she says,

“I’m Valdís, witch.”

You roll your eyes, but accept the title and her offered seat on the table near the hearth. She passes you an apple and a knife, and you start quietly cutting little sticks for you to eat.

Lifting your gaze to her and watching her toy with a pear and a knife in her own hands, you ask, “Fine, I’m a witch. What are you?”

“A mother. I used to be a shieldmaiden, but…”

“You got married?” You supply when her words die, but the blonde shakes her head with another low, raspy laugh.

“As if a cock could keep a Viking woman from her shield,” She boasts crudely, strikingly reminding you of Sieghild for a moment. The doors to the shop open again, and Freydis walks in, empty basket on one arm and coin pouches on the other. You greet her with a smile, and she returns it as she shrugs off the cloak and takes a seat by your side. Valdís continues her explanation quietly, “No, I did not lay down my shield for marriage. I was…captured during a raid in Wessex. They injured my sword arm badly, and I cannot fight anymore.”

“And your child…” You start, but the words die out, like saying it out loud would make her pain real, like you need to let her decide if she voices this.

Valdís squares her shoulders, strong and unmoving as she says, “He is mine, he is Viking. But…yes, he was…the Saxons forced themselves upon me.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“I don’t need your sympathy.”

“You Varangians are so strange. It’s not an insult to be offered compassion.” You tell her. She narrows her eyes, chewing in silence.

“What about you? You weren’t here last winter.” Valdís asks instead of answering, turning sharp focus to Freydis.

The blond girl shuffles in her seat before giving her answer. You eye her with concern and curiosity.

“I’m-…I used to be a thrall. I was freed by a son of Ragnar.”

Why doesn’t she say it was Ivar?

“Surprising he didn’t ask you to marry him,” Valdís huffs, and at your look shrugs and explains, “Those brothers have always had a thing for blonde thralls.”

“Slaves don’t get their hands asked for, Valdís.” Freydis quips, and you catch sight of her fingers playing with one another nervously where they rest on her lap.

“My personal thrall has a husband I have met, and children of her own. What are you on about, girl?”

Even if Valdís sounds gruff, you catch a genuine silver of concern, of care, in the woman’s eyes when she regards the frail girl that seems unbreakable and fragile at the same time.

You remain silent, and wait for Freydis to speak again. She does so, quietly, cautiously.

“We are not-…Slaves don’t fall in love, we just get husbands, slaves don’t have…families, we just birth children. Like animals.”

You do not try to stop your hand from finding hers, stopping the maddening twisting of her fingers and bringing her blue eyes to you. With certainty, you say, “First of all, you are not a slave anymore. And you were never, and never will be, an animal, Freydis.”

But she shakes her head, resolute like that day she tried convincing you the Gods marked you favorites for having endured a world of pain, “You don’t understand, witch. Slaves are not people, you cannot love them, you cannot trust them.”

“Says who? Men in power?” Valdís spits out, bitter chuckle on her lips, “Just because of the Gods we follow we are not people if you ask the Christians. Will you let them say if you are a person or not?”

“No.” The blonde girl bites out, voice wavering even in such a short vocalization. You squeeze her hand, but don’t know what to say.

“Then don’t let others, even our own, tell you that because of capture or birth you are not a woman like any other,” She sounds so motherly you have to bite back a smile. With certainty, the woman continues, “We are all children of the Gods, you are a child of Freyja. Don’t forget that.”

“I’m-…If Freyja looks over me, why…why did I suffer like I did?”

“Because suffering is what makes us human, and who we are,” You supply without hesitation, offering her a sad smile at the truth you had a hard time accepting as well, “How else would you be able to stand tall today and heal your own wounds, fight for what you want, enjoy what you have; without knowing what it’s like to hurt without remedy, to want and be left wanting, to lack and have nothing?”

The mangy black cat that belongs to the shop by now jumps swiftly into Freydis’ lap, and she absent-mindedly starts petting it as she talks,

“So the Gods mark us for pain? You said-…”

You interrupt her words, not wanting to argue this again even if you know now that the deluded notion of pain being a badge of pride is not so certain in her mind.

With another squeeze of her hand, you offer, “Suffering is not preordained, no. Pain, scars, misfortune, they are not proof of the favor of the Gods.”

“Then why-…You were born under the sigil of your Goddess, and you told me you almost burned alive,” You flinch slightly at the reminder, the soft touch of the linens of your dress against the scars burning like the Christian’s fire for a moment. You steal a nervous glance to Valdís, who watches you with wide eyes, and return shameful eyes to Freydis. The blonde girl continues, “You should have died then, but your Gods kept you alive, gave you their favor, their love.”

“The scars I bear are not proof of my Goddess’ love.”

“Your Goddess’ love carried you here!” The girl insists, eyes wide, “You stood in chains in front of Ivar the Boneless and had him release you. You stand at his side, you whisper in his ear, you have power.”

Her words make you pause for a moment, feeling you are witness to the darker side of the blonde girl for the first time since you arrived. She talked with you about lying to get your freedom, she asked about you seducing Ivar in exchange for what he gave you, and now she boasts about you being by his side like a conquest, as if nothing but a crown and power make up the Viking King.

You decide not to dwell on it, but you still release her hand and straighten in your seat. She notices, you know she does, but says nothing.

“No one’s love carried me here, Freydis,” Your voice may sound colder than before, and on the edge of your vision you catch Valdis raising her eyebrows and looking away. Still, you continue, “Sometimes pain is just pain. I don’t know about your Gods, but mine are-…In my home wise men said it takes strength greater than that of believing the Gods guide our every step to accept the Gods sometimes look away from their creations.”

“So they let us suffer?” Freydis asks, frowning.

A loud groan interrupts you, and you both turn to see Valdís throwing her head back where she sits, dragging rough hands over her face.

“Enough with this. Leave it to old and boring men to discuss the wills of the Gods.” She grumbles, earning a small laugh from you.

The days moves on slowly, though you notice the elders in the apothecary start ordering all of you to work more and more on healing salves and presses, making you wonder what the aftermath of a raid or a battle is like for the healers of Kattegat.

After a few days since meeting the former shieldmaiden, you are invited to join the women of the apothecary on the baths, and curiosity as to how similar these could be to roman public baths wins over your modesty, and you accept.

As you walk there, hearing Freydis hum a strange tune behind you, you catch Valdís, the dark-haired shieldmaiden stretching her stride to walk at your side as the group approaches the baths.

“So, witch.”

“So, shieldmaiden.” You reply, to which she offers a small smile as she meets your eyes.

“King Ivar said Sieghild Vorsdottir is the woman who raised you, who claims you as her daughter,” You nod slowly, not sure where she is going with this, “But she isn’t here, and you are to be a new bride soon.”

Your eyes narrow, and you steal a glance to Freydis as she moves closer to your side, very obviously wanting to hear this conversation.

“What are you on about?”

“You have no one to help you…shed the title of maiden,” Valdís explains, smirk devilish, “To prepare you to be a wife.”

“Not that any of us can prepare her to be the wife of Ivar the Boneless.” A woman quips from behind you, earning a chuckle from a few others in the group.

“My point is, we could use this time to teach you.”

“Teach me.” You repeat, and her smile only turns much more mischievous.

“Of course!” She turns to one of the elders, gesturing with a muscular arm, “Isn’t that tradition? Aren’t we to share our wisdom?”

The woman considers her in silence, though you could swear there’s a small smile betraying at her lips.

“I’m too old for this.” She mutters in response, but Valdís only laughs.

The baths are warm, warmer than any room you’ve been in, and though your hair hates the humidity, you sigh in pleasure at the almost-suffocating warmth.

You undress with ease, and it is only when you are readying to enter the bath turning your back to them that you realize what they may have seen.

The scars. Burn scars, not as bad as they could have been but still there, still present and marring.

They run over the outside of your right thigh, climbing over your hip into part of your back, almost up to your ribs. A gift from the Byzantines, so that you remember what happens to pagans.

“Are those burn scars, witch?” One of the women asks, and you turn around with gritted teeth.

Offering only a nod in response, but you cannot bring yourself to say anything more.

“Burnt alive for refusing to worship the Christian God, or so they say.” Valdís offers in your place, no hesitation in her voice, and no shame either, you notice, as she sheds her clothing as well and bares her strong yet scarred and marked body for everyone to see as she approaches the large stone tub as well.

It makes you feel much more at ease, even if it wasn’t her intention, seeing she has scars too, she has marks too. Not that the women that traveled with you are without their marks and badges of honor, but…the mark of war on a woman is something to be ashamed of, at least where you come from.

“No different than a scar from a sword or an axe,” She states confidently, bowing her head in recognition with a small smile on her face, “Glory to you, Greek.”

You offer her a small smile of your own, and get into the hot water.

“Thank you.” You offer sincerely, and go under the water to get your hair wet, silently pleading with them that the conversation finds an end. It does.

Conversation diffuses between the women soon enough, and the loud laugh of the shieldmaiden echoes in the walls, but you find yourself…comfortable, safe, even if the weight of what kind of failure this comfort, this ease you feel in this land means sets on your chest and almost keeps you from breathing if you think about it too much.

“So, about what we ought to teach you.” Valdís presses, drawing a groan from you.

“Would you leave the poor girl be?” Someone quips, but she dismisses them with a gesture.

“Witch,” Valdís -who you are noticing more and more has no qualms about keeping her mouth shut, reminding you strikingly of Sieghild- asks, moving closer to you in the large tub, “Do you know how to please a man?”

Oh, Gods.

“Yes.” You bite out, resisting the urge to close your eyes in mortification and hoping to everything there is on this earth, let it be Persephone or Freyja, that she doesn’t push this.

“But do you know how to please a Viking?”

“No matter what I say, you will talk anyways, won’t you?”

She only gives you a look that says you should know the answer already, before laughing. You groan, and lower your face further into the waters, igniting a laugh out of the other women.

_____

The routines of spending the days at the apothecary, exchanging secrets and tales with Freydis and loud laughs with Valdís, sharing short conversations with the other women, watching and learning and teaching; they quickly become a source of warmth and familiarity in this cold and strange land.

Even more now that Ivar is gone. You have no shame in admitting you have…grown used to him. Maybe that’s what hurts the most, what feels the most like failure; the fact that you have grown to enjoy his company, to hope for something more than resentment, to see him not quite as you did in Aneridge, but differently all the same. And the Gods made you too arrogant and proud to admit it to anyone but yourself, but you do miss him while he is gone. His curious eyes, his endless questions, his taunts and his infuriating stubbornness.

Prince Hvitserk has kept you company, and you offer murmured greetings each time you cross paths and maybe exchange a few words during dinner. It is more than you could ask for, and you think is all you should want. You have always had a soft heart, and not even Kattegat’s cold or its cruel King could harden it; and…a soft heart brings forth familiarity, care, affection. You have no use for neither, for you cannot forget the chains set upon you.

If you forget the chains, it will feel like a choice to remain here. And this is not a choice you can make.

You keep reminding yourself not to forget what brought you here, not to forget the chains set upon you, not to forget that you do not belong here; even as you occupy your day with a foolish and sentimental project.

You run into Hvitserk as you are carrying an armful of wooden planks -that you may or may not have exchanged a necklace for- to your rooms.

“What are you doing, woman?” He asks, and when he offers you, not demands, to take the heavy wood and carry it for you, you accept with a smile.

“I’m…making planters in my rooms,” The Prince still looks at you like you grew a second head, so you add, “I like plants. Herbs and flowers.” You offer as your sole answer, shrugging your shoulders.

When you reach the doors to your rooms, you hesitate, and the Prince offers you a smile.

“I can help you make them.”

“Is that…proper? For a man to be in a woman’s rooms?” You ask lowly, but the laugh you startle out of the young man takes away any secrecy you expected to get.

He pushes open the door with his shoulder and walks in, you trailing behind him.

“‘Proper’. You spent too much time with Christians, witch,” He chuckles, and drops the planks where you point him to. Crossing his legs underneath him as he sits on your floor, he motions for you to do the same. “If it’s my brother you are worried about, I’ll handle him.”

You thank him with a smile, tremulous as it is, and help him as you both work in amicable company, exchanging snippets of stories, quiet laughs and easy smiles.

“The King,” You start cautiously, and the Prince nods, giving you permission to talk, “Has he always been so…?”

“Usually worse,” He bites out when your words die, hitting particularly harder than needed at a nail as he does so. “You keep him preoccupied.”

“Should I be worried?” You say with a smile, scooting as you reach your favorite window and measuring for the perfect length of a planter to set there.

“He listens to you more than me, witch, I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

“You don’t get along?” You ask even if you already know the answer, readying a few nails to start forming an angle for a planter.

“My brother and I…we are bound to kill each other, I think.” He says, and you lift your gaze in surprise as your hand already moves the hammer down.

The hammer falls down on your finger with all your strength.

“No! Why would you say that!?” You say, sticking the hurt digit into your mouth as you frown at the Prince.

He laughs in response to your clumsiness, but there’s a burden in his eyes. Hvitserk shrugs,

“I risked it all to stand by his side when Ubbe almost turned his back on him, Odin knows if there’s a reason why our brother is not with Lagertha wherever she has run off to now is because of me,” He mutters, and you stay silent, thinking to yourself it seems like it has been too long since someone sat to hear him speak, “Ivar wouldn’t have held on to Kattegat for this long if it wasn’t for me.”

“But you do not want to take Kattegat from him.” You offer quietly, not even a question. Hvitserk presses his lips into a line, seemingly overwhelmed.

“I never wanted to be King. Neither does Ubbe, the throne…Even if you don’t agree and he doesn’t believe I think so, I know Ivar is the best choice to be King of Kattegat,” The young man shakes his head, and he looks much more fragile than you ever thought he could look. You get closer and lay a hand on his arm, as comforting you can be without feeling like you are being ‘too touchy’ like Sieghild used to chastise you for. Hvitserk furrows his lips with no little anger, and continues, “Ivar is my brother and I will always stand with him, I just want the arrogant little fuck to acknowledge what I have done and continue to do for him.��

You have no idea what happened between the three brothers, you assume whatever it was caused the breach and struggle for dominance that permeates the air every time Ubbe and Ivar discuss battle or matters of the city; but you listen to Hvitserk with a compassionate smile on your lips and offer the best you can.

“If you want to talk, my Prince, I am always here.”

Surprisingly enough, he does.

He tells you of their allegiance with Bjorn Ironside and others to avenge the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. You needn’t be told of the Great Heathen Army and the fear and awe it inspired in its enemies and allies, for the words reached all the way to Carthage when the Vikings moved against Aelle. But Hvitserk tells you, and he tells you of the struggles of the men at the helm of the forces and how as the eldest son of Ragnar sailed South, their brother Sigurd married to warrant a degree of peace, and King Harald moved back to Norway with a new Queen; the three sons of Aslaug where left to be the leaders.

He tells you of Ivar pushing to take control from his brothers, of Ubbe being at the brink of breaking away from Ivar and turn against him if needed. He tells you of facing both of his brothers and reminding them of their blood shared, even if vows made, if ambitions clashing, if old pain and rancor, threatened to pull them apart.

He tells you of the marches for York, of many cities raided and pillaged. He tells you of the land granted for a settlement, of the funding of Dublin and the struggles for power that took place there. He tells you of the battles and blood that got Ivar to be King of Kattegat, and he confides that even if he appreciates and sees the change in his younger brother and how he is trying to appease him with by making both his and Ubbe’s voices heard when it comes to matters of war and the Kingdom; Ivar still treats him like nothing more than a dog, always mistrusting and always cold towards him.

“I’m sure he loves you.” You offer quietly, but the Prince does not look at you, instead toying with a piece of wood between his fingers.

“Ivar loves nothing.” He corrects quickly.

You shake your head, the hand on his arm squeezing to call for his attention. When he looks up at you he looks young and open, but his expression speaks of tiredness and resentment.

“You don’t believe that.” You promise quietly, to which he answers with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Soon enough you both finish the planters, and you both bring the earth and branches needed to make the layers. Whispering prayers you carry in your heart alongside the secrets of the Thesmophoria, you water the earth and promise it care and seeds for growth.

The seeds will have to wait until you can get some, but the knowledge that fertile earth surrounds you fills you with a certain degree of peace. Even if this cold city kills you, you will force life and spring upon it. If you have to feed the flowers with your blood then so be it.

Hvitserk calls for your attention telling you he thinks he knows a little bit of Greek, and as you start getting horrified by his attempts at your language while he butchers it unwillingly, you both walk outside side by side.

Conversation starts on other topics soon after, and he tells you of the strange people he has met while handling Kattegat’s commerce influx and trade deals, which, paired with the way he recalls the stories with gestures and voices and expressions, makes your laugh louder than you have released it in so long.

Your giggles die down as you take a sip from your tea, and the Prince leans forward on the balcony railing, sighing.

“For all your strange ways, you seem…honest, witch.” He says, eyes on the horizon. You join him quietly, overlooking the cold city.

“If you were to ask the woman who raised me, she would say it is due to my arrogance that keeps me from being able to shut up,” You offer with a smile, “But thank you, my Prince.”

___

I know this chapter was kinda filler and kinda boring, I’m sorry. I promise the next one is hopefully more exciting. As I said last saturday, I’ll be uploading two chapters instead of one today. Chapter 17 will be up shortly after this one. :)

Thank you for reading <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

125 notes · View notes

jessiebanethedragon · 4 years

Text

Scuttle, all chapters in one post

Thought it might be kinda nice to have the full story in one post... idk.

The mission, simple. The planet, a shit show. But that's hardly unusual for Clone Force 99. The elite team of four clones were used to disasters, in fact, they thrive off of them. Arkanis was no different, a rainy planet located in the outer rim. Currently held under control via the separatists. The republic needed to change that, and so of course when their informant’s identity was leaked, they sent the most capable team they had to extract them.

Enter - The Bad Batch.

“Did you know this planet is made up of over 10,000 different species, all localized to it’s rainforest biosphere?” Tech was chattering as usual while the team geared up. Assembling their armour and double checking weapons before dropping out of hyped space.

“How many of those wanna kill us?” Wrecker asked beyond the metallic thunk of his durasteel clicking into place.

“Does not say, but given Arkanis’s tropical climate i would estimate that most of the life forms are plants.” Tech said clicking about on his holopad.

“Vod, in here now.” The Sergeant called from the brig of the Havoc Murdader, having already assembled his armour and stashing away his viroblades. “Here's the info we got from Cody.” Hunter said, pulling up a map of the planet’s capital.

“It’s a kriffing death trap.” Crosshair barked out looking at the maze of intervening trees, houses and streets, all covered with various mosses, vines and other plants.

“We’ll have to go solo on this one.” Hunter added. “We need to cover ground quickly and quietly, remember this is an active warzone so while blasts will blend in we want minimal casualties.” With a flick of his hand he moved the holo so it showed a different area.

“This is their last known coordinates, we’ll drop ten clicks from here and fan out. Tech?” Hunter looked to his brother, waiting for him to take over and tell them how to go about searching for the informant.

“There's no choice but to head in all directions, checking each house, that's our best bet, without a speeder they wont have been able to leave the city.”

“And if they did have a speeder?” Crosshair piped in, attaching an intricate looking scope to his rifle.

“Well, then, I hope you like rain because we’re stuck there until we find the snitch.” Hunter added. “Wrecker, Tech, let's get this show going.” Crosshair watched his brother’s jump to the front of the ship, rolling the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Sarge.” He said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Like usual it was chucking it down on Arkanis, the sky was dark by midday and everyone was wrapped in layers of weather proof fabric. There was no wind today, no sunlight, just buckets and buckets of cooling rain. She watched as the droids started ushering people around, being pushed aside by one herself to make way for the spider droids that were crawling the city. She cursed herself for not noticing it sooner, the anxiety of getting caught was dulling her senses. Focus and precision were not things she could go without right now.

“Yona!” Your mother called, when you had picked yourself up again. Crossing the uneven street with practiced ease.

“I’m fine mama.” You assured her. She clutched to your clothing like a madwoman. Peering at the droids through the rain.

“Return to your homes.” the closest one said, before pointing it’s blaster at the both of you. Causing you to latch onto your mother's arm and take off as fast as you could down the street.

You pushed the door to your small home open with your knees, the latch had long broken and the door itself did not slide open properly anymore. The tips and edges of your hair were soaked, eyelashes heavy and hands slightly shaking.

“Papa?” you called into the emptiness that was your house, cold wooden floors and windows left open allowing the rain to make its way inside. The seprastist propaganda was playing through the Holopad on the main table.

“Yona.” he said softly, sitting on the chair in the main room. None of the lights were on, the warm glow of homeliness wasn't there, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach. “What have you done?” he asked gravely.

“What are you talking about?” You faked innocence, there was no way he could know, you’d been so careful in hiding the transmissions. Flicking the light switch on the biggest lamp in the room you began to shed your outer clothing.

“Yona…” he started again, and you turned at his voice, shrieking when you saw the figure standing at the end of the room.

“I have to say…” General Krexx hissed out, the separatists trandoshan calmly turned towards you. “I’m almost impressed by how long you managed to remain undetected, little republican.” Without thinking you turned to the door and bolted out into the rain, weaving through the rocks and foliage as fast as you could.

“Go on, scuttle away little roach. Get a good head start.” Krexx laughed, before reaching to his communicator to hail his trandoshan guard. “You’ll need it.”

Crosshair quickly decides he likes the rain. It’s got a way of blending in so nicely with the rest of the planet that he thinks it would be bland without it.

“Anything?” Hunter asked into the comms, and various grunts and groans of ‘negative’ filled his ear. They’d landed in what looked like an abandoned house, it was situated in the branches of a very tall, and very old tree. How anyone would have managed to climb it was a mystery.

“How do we even know what we’re lookin’ for?” Wrecker grumbled as they rapelled down the enormous trunk.

“All we’ve got is that they answer to the name Wren apparently its some animal on this planet.” Hunter grumbled, looking over a tech, expecting a lengthy explanation of what exactly a ‘Wren’ was.

“Fairywren are small birds that live in typical families of small groups, they come in brilliant colours of purple and blue. Very rare in the galaxy, but common to this planet.” Tech immediately replied, as their feet crunched into the ground.

“Okay, Bad batch, let's make this quick.” The sergeant ordered before taking off into the undergrowth.

It had been hours and they were no closer to coming across anyone or anything that looked like a Fairywren. Keeping to the outskirts of a small town crosshair watches as a group of Trandoshian guards (from the look of their intense armour) patrolled the streets.

“What are they doing?” he thought aloud to himself, toothpick ever present in his mouth. His concentration broke when he heard someone laughing at him. A group of teenagers were sitting under a broken piece of metal.

“What does it look like, Laserbrain?” one of them sneered. “The trandoshans are only good for one thing. The hunt.” Crosshair doubled his pace.

You were running faster than you ever had before, and for longer than you thought was physically possible. Your one and only advantage was the extent of your knowledge of the forest paths. The guards would be faster and run longer, they had keener senses than any human, and you knew if they put out a warrant, anyone and everyone would turn you in. But you were so close. So, so close.

It was called the Night Lake by the locals, the canopy here was so dense no light illuminated the water below, giving the area a terrifying essence. But also ensured much needed privacy, and in this particular case, somewhere to hide. You threw yourself into the waters, letting the slightly chilly water envelop you. At least four of them had been on your tail and you knew more of them were waiting at the edge of the city, should you try and circle back.

You swam as deep as you could manage, before stilling in the water, suspended in perfect anxiety as you watched its surface for any movement. Flares began to light up the dark sky and the water below as they tried to clear the area for your whereabouts. Closing your eyes you prayed to anything listening for them not to find you.

Turns out. No one was listening.

Crosshair was sprinting in the forest, creatures disturbed by his arrival scattered in every direction. The Trandoshians had taken off moments before answering a call that he couldn't interpret. But his experience and intuition told him to follow.

It was then that he faltered and fell down the edge of a small but very muddy hill, being followed only by more water filled dirt that almost buried him. Cursing he pulled himself up, checking his whereabouts for signs of a trap.

“So small for such trouble.” Something hissed to his right, clearly unaware of the clone that had just tumbled into their presence. His eyes snapped forward, four trandoshians sat at the edge of what was the largest and darkest lake Crosshair had ever seen.

“Shall we let her drown or yank her out ourselves?” One asked with a snicker.

“The general wants her alive, something about having fun while making an example.” The first one spoke again. “Right, enough is enough, Drisk get her out of there.” with a nod towards the water, Crosshair watched as the slimmest trandoshan (who was probably still twice the size of the sniper) dove into the black waters. The ripples dissipated for a moment before the reptile emerged carrying a struggling young girl. She was sopping wet, and struggling and turning so much they had no choice but to dump her in the mud.

“Now, now little roach, don't run off.” The leader laughed as she started to claw her way through the mud, reaching down he grasped her ankle and yanked her into the arms of the other two reptilians. Crosshair lined up his rifle, he could take out the two grasping the girl and then worry about the leader after. He had the trandoshans in his sight when his comm crackled to life again.

“Crosshair, you missed your check in time, you still out there?” it was Tech, curse him and his punctuality. Because now the other two huge beings were dragging him out of his hiding place.

“Well, would you take a look at this. A clone!” Crosshair was forced to his knees in front of the leader as it spat at him.

“Crosshair! Come in!” Tech shouted into the helmet, thus resulting in it’s not-so gentle removal from Crosshairs head. He watched as Tech’s voice faded away as the bucket rolled into the lake.

“Now that the rude interruption is gone, you wanna tell us whatcha up to in these parts?” he said kneeling down and meeting his newest captive eye to eye.

“Bird watching.” Crosshair deadpanned. Really not feeling in a chatty mood at that present moment.

“Really?” The reptile hummed in thought, pretending to actually believe his answer. “Have you seen any birds yet?”

“No.” Crosshair told him with a smile, “Saw some Bantha-shit - looking lizards though.” He didn't see the flying fist coming, but he sure as hell felt it.

You clamp you both of your hands over your mouth. Hard. in the smallest attempt to muffle your screams. You can't tell the difference from lake water, rain water, and tears. But you know you’re wailing at an unforgiving volume. Your mother's blank eyes stare at you. A single blaster to the head. Your father, you got a blaster to the face is now unrecognizable. You don’t know which is worse. Krexx didn't even bother to keep you restrained, knowing that the horror of what he made you witness would be enough to paralyze you into compliance. The sound of conflict falls on deaf ears as you continue to shriek from your converter of what once was the family home.

The Clone, whose name you either didn't know or couldn't remember, was cuffed to one of the ceiling's support beams by a pair of binders, only just coming to a hit to the head like that will do you in. you watch him lift his head with a groan, the tattoo on his face covered by layers of mud. He starts pulling at the binders before his eyes meet the figure in the corner.

You’re curled in a fetal position, still screaming bloody murder into your hands. And barely, Crosshair sees that the fingerless gloves you wear are embroidered with a bird. A bright blue bird.

“Wren.” He grunted out, the pieces all coming together as his brain shakes the fuzz away. You don't move. “Wren!” he shouts over your tears. And you fall into more of a silent sob, looking over at him. “I need you to get these off of me.” he gestures to the binders with a shake of his hands. You recoil in the corner and shake your head, your cries are picking up volume again.

“Wren, please” Crosshair all but begs. The sound of battle is getting closer and closer. “I need you to uncuff me.” his voice barely registers in your brain. You know you have to move but you feel like you physically can't. There’s no fight or flight left in you, and it appears your entire system has short circuited as a result.

“We are both going to die if you don’t get me out of these kriffin’ binders!” Crosshair renewed his struggles as he shouts at you. But one look at you says that would be a preferable outcome for your current state. So, he switches tactics and tries to remember everything tech has ever told him about shock and trauma.

“Wren,” he tries once again, softer this time. “I can help you, I can help you out of this. But i can't do that if you don't get these off of me.” Your eyes meet his. ‘Progress’ he thinks. You don't know how you do it, but you try to stand.

“Just keep looking at me, okay?” The clone who you don't know speaks again, and your eyes meet his. You stare not into his eyes, more like past them. You're not focusing on anything you're just taking one step after another until you reach where he’s awkwardly strewn up. “There's a release button on the-” He starts to tell you, but you're already reaching up with shaky hands and fumbling around until they drop to the floor with a horrible clank. Immediately Crosshair jumps into action checking by each window and door and gathering all he can in terms of intel.

“We need to move, before anyone-” he trails off again when he’s seen that you’ve slid down the wall that he was against. Curling back into a ball. Slowly, he approaches you. He knows the protocol for a clone with shock, but what you're going through looks completely different all together. And Crosshair, well, let's just say there was never any training for caring for a civilian girl whose entire life just got destroyed.

“My name is Crosshair.” He whispers to you, crouching down to our height. You look at him with wide eyes. “Is it okay if I carry you to a safer spot?” You nod in response fumbling with your arms to lock them around his tall frame. His strength surprises you, as he lifts you with relative ease. And slowly the adrenaline wears off and you sink into his arms, vaguely you feel him pull your head into his shoulder the blasts sound deafening now as he runs through the uproar caused by the execution of an innocent family. Your family. Crosshair tells himself he pulls you closer so that you are not recognized. And that he does it so you don't have to see that carnage. But mostly he does it in hopes that you feel just a little more safe, and a little more calm in his arms.

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything?

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quite as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you.

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction.

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother.

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself.

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker.

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk, to just scoop you up and hide you from the world.

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’ Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return.

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother.

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment.

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure.

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you.

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him.

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you don’t push further.

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic.

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck.

“Why Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?” You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see the huge rifle strapped to his back.

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you're guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are.

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair.

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree.

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like. Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless.

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second.

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely one sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest.

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake.

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name.

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted.

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken.

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.”

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little.

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.”

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush.

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts.

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap.

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are.

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk.

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him.

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around.

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket.

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room.

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it.

You wake to the sound of a very angry sniper. And even though his default setting is angry, he seems more perturbed than usual. Muffled voices can be heard from outside the small bunk area that you’ve already made your personal space. Wet, destroyed clothes sit on the floor in the corner and you’re wrapped only in Crosshairs blanket, save for your undergarments. You swing your legs over and plant them on the cold metal floor. As you reach the door, the voices become clearer.

“Absolutely not.” - That's Crosshair for sure, only he would be so blunt.

“I wasn't asking for your permission Crosshair, only your opinion.” The other voice is more of a long sigh at this point. The exhaustion and caring sound to it tells you it’s Hunter. For clones they are all remarkably different you think to yourself.

“Yeah and my opinion is ‘no’.” Crosshair snaps.

“The seppies will come after her whether you like it or not.” He counters.

“Which is why we can’t take her into bounty hunter territory!” You freeze as you realize they mean you. Panic settles in when you come to terms with the idea of being ditched on some degenerate planet with non resources whatsoever. You retreat back into the bunk, pulling the blanket closer to your frame.

“Just get her up.” Hunter finishes and you hear him tread back down the halfway of the ship. Crosshair grumbles something about not being in charge of you before the door slides open. He’s shocked to see you sitting up and awake, and his eyes rest on the pile of clothes on the floor before meeting yours. His blanket looks far better on you than it has in all his years of owning it.

“Food’s up.” He says before turning to leave. Less time spent interacting with you the better. Means less time for him to stare at the one exposed shoulder that the blanket has fallen off of and less time to wonder if you’d ever spare someone like him a second glance.

“Where are you dumping me?” He hears a small voice ask. And all the warmth leaves his body.

“We aren't…” He starts, not turning around. Because if he doesn’t turn around he can claim ignorance if you're crying or not.

“I heard you and Hunter and i’m not stupid.” You interrupt him, voice void of any emotion.

“Then you'd know i'm not going to let him do that.” He snaps, almost angry at you for thinking he’d leave you on your own.

“I’m deadweight, aren't I?” It's a question you know the answer to but have to ask anyways. You want to scream at the republic, for using your intel and then throwing you away. Taking advantage of your selflessness and empathy, just like they take advantage of the clones caring and giving nature at every opportunity.

“You’re not deadweight.” Crosshair states, leaving no room for argument, “You just need to be somewhere off the grid for a while.” He hears you stand, and slowly he turns his head, his blanket bunched awkwardly around your frame. His jaw clenches as his heart pulls at strings he swore weren't there.

“Crosshair…” You start, but don’t continue, words escape you, the right ones don’t exist in that moment. Or at least you can't bring yourself to use the ones you want to. So instead, you opt to blankly stare at the metal floor. He will leave eventually, turn and head out the door. You’re not his problem, your brain explains this as the floor becomes more and more interesting. Except he doesn't go. And the very tips of his fingers meet your chin, gently pulling your head to meet his glance.

God his eyes are stunning, you think, before cursing your brain for being in the totally wrong place at the wrong time. But his eyes might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Light brown with hints of ashy tones.

“I won't leave you on your own.” He tells you, but what you want to hear is that he will stay with you. You're already inexplicably attached to the sniper, it's unbearable.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him breathless just from being this close to him.

“Now come on, or Wrecker will have eaten everything before you even get out there.” Crosshair cocks his head towards the door, pulling away from you.

The members of the hold greet you excitedly, Wrecker seems to have really taken to calling you little bird as well as patting your head affectionately. And you find yourself sat wedge in between him and Tech while they both talk your ear off. Hunter is smiling and eating in contentment of his little family and Crosshair is starring, you fit so nicely in this scene. Wrecker piling more and more food on your plate while you laugh at Techs retelling of one of their ridiculous missions.

“Tell er’ about Nal Hutta!” Wrecker says with an evil smile.

“Don’t you dare.” Crosshair snaps at his vod, who's already laughing his blacks off.

“It wasn't that bad Cross.” Hunter admits grabbing some empty dishes and patting his shoulder as he walks by.

“Yes it was!” Wrecker says between wheezes. And you notice the faint flush in his cheeks.

“Okay one of you needs to spill the details.” You demand looking from Tech to Wrecker.

“Well, as you probably know Nal Hutta is run by the infamous Hut cartel…” Tech launches off, waving his hands about as he talks. (you've picked this up as one of his biggest habits.)

“Tech…” Crosshair groans with his face in one of his hands before giving in and leaning back. Preparing for the worst.

“I can't tell you all the details, classified and all, but the important part is that Cross was working recon and cover, like usual. So he's up this step mountain that's basically all dirt and sand. Looking for this Hut fellow right, and before we can warn him Wrecker throws this thermal detonator and the whole side of the mountain collapses.” Tech tells you excitedly. And your worried eyes look across the table. Crosshair had moved so he could lean back with his arms behind his head looking just a tad embarrassed.

“He would've been fine, if he hadn't gone rolling right through the window of the house he was collecting intel on.” Wrecker was killing himself laughing by this point.

“And then the… the” He tried to get out between gasps of air before waving it off and letting Tech continue.

“And well, sorry Cross, there's no easy way to say this.” Tech laughed a little himself. “He rolled right in on a Hutt reproducing session.” Your eyes went as wide as they could, and a hand covered your gaping and giggling mouth.

“Wait, so Crosshair burst in on two Hutts doing it?” You gasped, trying to stifle your growing laughter.

“Gets worse.” The man in question grit out, looking at the mess of comrades before him.

“How does that get worse?” you exclaimed, leaning into Wrecker with his contagious laughter. Tech turned to you, smiling wider than ever.

“Hutts reproduce asexually.” He stated, “scientists don't know too much about it but from the condition we found this one in.” he pointed to a grumpy Crosshair. “It gets real messy.” You closed your mouth into a thin line, blinking as you tried not to laugh.

“Oh…” giggle “no, Crosshair…” More giggles. “That must’ve been awful.” You tried to emphasize you really did, but the look on the snipers face had you laughing all over again.

“He was covered head to toe in green Hutt goo!” Wrecker boomed.

“Well it’s nice to know yet another finds my torment hilarious.” Crosshair grumbled as he stood up to escape the laughing hyenas before him.

“No!” you objected, “I promise I am not finding this the least bit funny.” You told him, trying to keep a straight face. Receiving a sarcastic ‘um hum’ reply.

“I mean it, you could have been seriously injured.” You countered, thinking you had successfully hidden your smile beneath your hand.

“I can see you smiling.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You could've drowned in Hutt goo…” You quietly said with another round of giggles.

“Ahhh yes CT-7733 of Clone Force 99 killed in action on Nal hutta, death caused by drowning in Hutt goo.” Tech snickered from beside you.

“He will be dearly missed, and as an apology the Hutt has named the child in his honour.” You added taking note of Crosshairs millionth eye roll of that morning alone.

“Okay that's enough of that now.” He said. “Wren, you want clothes or are you spending the rest of your life in my blanket?” He teases, watching you blush a tad.

“I don't take life advice from a man covered in goo.” You shoot back with the biggest smirk on your face.

“No clothes for you then.” he smiled as your protests began.

“Okay, okay, calm down, don’t get your goo in a tuffle.” You say maneuvering yourself from with the blanket and over Wrecker who's still chuckling to himself.

Down back in your makeshift room, Crosshair shows you where the extra clothes are kept, which means you’ll be swimming in extra sets of blacks all meant for clones that are bigger than yourself. But you think your pants may survive given a good enough wash, so for now you roll the waistband and the legs until you look somewhat presentable. Greeting crosshair on the other side of the door.

“See,” He says, “told ya’ it would fit.” Before he turns from you and starts to walk back down the hall.

“Wait Crosshair!” You call jogging over to him, a look of fau-concentration on your face as you reach up to where his short hair meets his right ear. Carefully running your fingers through it. He knows his heart has either stopped beating or hammering so fast he can’t feel it.

“There, all good now.” you declare patting his cheek a few times. hoping he inquires as to why you just hand you hand in his hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before deciding on:

“What was that for?” and if there was an inter-galactic clone flirting competition, Crosshair just lost. You grin up at him, pure evil in your eyes.

“Oh no reason,”You say walking past. “Just a little leftover Hutt goo.”

Tech finds your fascination with hyperspace fascinating. You seem to spend hours sitting by whichever window you have chosen for that moment, watching the universe whizz by. Sometimes he sits with you, and you both talk about your theories for explaining the galaxy. He learns that your parents never left your home world once you were born and nicknamed you Yona after the rain that poured down so often. He mentions it offhand to Crosshair and catches him whispering it to himself later that day. Tech himself sticks to calling you Fairywren, while Wrecker has committed to little bird, Hunter goes with Fairywren like Tech but Crosshair has decided on not using your name or any of the many nicknames the bad batch have for you.

In fact, he’s starting avoiding you all together.

You flit around the ship like a plague according to him, Hunter and Tech can’t figure out why the sniper has such a disdain for everything you do but it’s getting out of hand.

“When do we drop out of hyperspace?” He asks one day while you’re perched in the cockpit staring out the window, away from the current conversation.

“Soon.” Hunter states his focus on his holopad, receiving instructions from Cody about laying low.

“How soon?” Crosshair presses, keeping an eye on the door that separates you from hearing him.

“Doesn’t matter.” Hunter says, getting slightly annoyed with his brother, not to be dramatic but you’re literally a joy to have around. All the batchers love you to bits and Hunter is frustrated that Crosshair is being a spoilsport.

“It matters to me.”

“Yeah we get it. You can't stand Fairywren, because she’s the problem and you can't wait to get rid of her.” Hunter snaps, putting his holopad down. “Just days ago you were all over her, what happened to ‘we aren't leaving her’?” He’s staring at Crosshair, enhanced sense burning into his soul.

“Just a little leftover Hutt goo.” You’d said to him, not that he’d heard, his face was on fire, burned from where you had touched it. And he is surprised he didn't flinch away from your touch, had he become that accustomed to you already? Was Crosshair so entranced by you in such a short amount of time that he was already missing your touch? No. He doesn't know you. You don't know him. He’s memorized every part of your face, but you don’t matter to him. His heart seems to beat for every smile you give him. But you have no effect on the sniper. Every shot he takes is one to protect you from anymore trauma. But he doesn't give a damn about your feelings. Love at first sight doesn't exist, soulmates are fake. And even if they did Crosshair doesn't want it.

Kamino broke him, being defected, trained and thrown away for your one purpose does that to person. He tells himself to hate you for putting him back together.

“Nothing changed. But we aint a charity.” He tells his sergeant, who absolutely knows he is lying. But because he doesn't know why he’s lying, Hunter lets the conversation drop, but mostly because he can hear you get up from the co-pilot's seat and head towards the door.

“Wrecker says we’re dropping out of hyperspace soon.” You report, popping your head out of the door. “Says it'll look cool.” You add with a blush. Hunter chuckles a tad and says something about going to let Tech know. Leaving you to stare at Crosshair.

“Ram'ser” you say all of a sudden, slow and precise, testing out the word and being very careful of your pronunciation.

“What?” Crosshair spits, more surprised than malicious. Since when did you speak mando’a?

“Tech likes to talk to me in phrases of mando’a and have me guess what they mean.” you explain slowly. “He uses that word when he talks about you.”

“Yeah? Good for him.” Crosshair is glaring at his reflection in the table. He hates this, he wants to hate you. He can’t stand the way the words come out of his mouth, but his head reminds him that you will be safest far away from the war. And that means he can't catch feelings and any that have slipped through must be thrown away. He hears the door slip closed as you retreat to watch the stars again. Tech and Hunter follow moments later, Hunter looking down at his vod with a sigh. Stupid enhanced hearing. He heard every word.

You land on a desert planet you already can't remember the name of, but apparently it’s a neutral system and a good place to lay low. The sand dunes make you frown because they go as far as the eye can see, and Tech makes you take a spare pair of goggles and a makeshift hooded cape that was fashioned out of a lightweight tarp from the hold. That combined with your clean (albeit mud stained) pants and an oversized shirt you fit right in with the mess of inhabitants on the planet.

“You’ll get itchy.” Hunter tells you when he sees that you’ve sat yourself in the sand and are now in the process of burying your legs in the strange stuff.

“Sorry, I’ve just never really seen this stuff.” you apologize but Hunter waves it off with a smile.

“It’s okay, just a heads up. Stuff gets everywhere.” You reluctantly pull yourself out of the sand, joining everyone by the edge of the sand dune, looking over at the nearby city in the distance.

“So what haven't you guys seen?” You ask as you struggle to walk down the intense slope.

“We don’t see a lot of water usually.” Tech says, “but only because not many species can survive underwater.”

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?” The bad batch is used to your barrage of questions. It’s one of the things they like most about having you around, from favourite colours to wild would you rather questions, your brain is always humming with things to discover.

“Somewhere small and quiet.” Hunter says quickly, the light, heat and everything else already giving him a headache.

“Coruscant.” Tech answers, the complete opposite of his brother. “Libraries and the Jedi temple.” He explains further.

“Kamino.” Wrecker says, surprising you. You had assumed they all hated it there. “Home is home.” He explains with a smile. Crosshair doesn't say anything, but he can feel the eyes on him.

“What?” He says to the four faces looking at him.

“Cross would go to Hoth, because it’s cold.” Wrecker sasses him with a slight push.

“Shut up Wrecker.” he snaps, in a very bad mood today.

“Or anywhere his cyare is.” Wrecker adds without thinking. Making Hunter, you and Tech very confused. That's a word you haven't heard from Tech before and both him and hunter are trying to figure out who Wrecker is talking about while Crosshair looks like he’s actually going to explode.

“What did you just say?” He says each word is its own sentence.

“Cross has a cyare?” Tech is now thinking out loud (another habit of his) “no way Cross has a cyare we would know if he did. I mean we are with him all the time so it’s not like we wouldn’t know them or have met them…” His rambling fades into the background when Wrecker speaks up again.

“Wait Tech, Sarge? You two seriously didn't notice?” He asks, shocked that his clever brothers hadn't picked it up.

“Wrecker, shut your trap.” Crosshair orders, and a very tense silence falls over the group, and you’re only a third of the way to the city. You decide to ask Tech what the word means later. And the now very awkward walk continues, that is until a speeding starts to approach you from the town.

“Bad batch! Defensive positions!” Hunter calls to them, and within seconds they have their helmets on. except for Cross whose helmet is still in the bottom of that lake, but has a new one waiting for him at base. But either way they’re all ready for combat in record time, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of them hand by where you keep the small knife that's always by your side.

“Civi’s!” Tech calls, having analyzed the people within the speeder, it’s a Twi’lek woman with a young child. She does, however, raise a blaster before addressing the group.

“Saw the ship land. Thought someone or something might need help.” She says, eying the group suspisously. “Clones eh?” She adds. “Can't be here. Neutral system.” She lowers the blaster.

“We just need a few days.” Hunter says, taking his helmet off.

“Perhaps you didn't hear me.” She’s more aggressive now. “You can’t be here. One day or a hundred, we don't care. Get gone.” You step forward.

“Hunter we should go.” You whisper, looking at the mother and her young one.

“Kriff,” The twi’lek sighs when she sees you. “Huxx has already got a bounty on her.” She looks at you with pity.

“Thought you said this was a neutral planet.” Crosshair snaps.

“Bounty is a bounty, no matter who’s side it’s for.” She says shaking her head. She pauses thinking for a minute. “All i can offer you is the fact that any planets around here will have been given the same information.”

“What if I had credits?” You ask, it’s dangerous. But you know if one person saw you and more must know by now.

“You’d need a lot of credits and a really stupid person to let you camp out here. Especially with clones” she says, beginning to bargain.

“What about credits, a nice person, and no clones?” You counter taking a pouch out of your pants pockets.

“That might work. For a couple days that is.” She agrees.

“Absolutely not.” Hunter interrupts. “We aren't leaving you.” ignoring someone with a sniper rifle mumbling ‘hypocrite’ under his breath.

“The name’s Leeya” she tells you, ignoring Hunter.

“Yona.” You reply, moving to hop in the speeder, but stopped by Hunter's hand.

“This isn't happening.” He says firmly.

“Get in the speeder and tell your very angry friends to find something to wear other than armour.” Leeya smiles softly at you.

“We’ll be back soon.” Tech speaks up, very nervous, just as the rest of his batch.

“I know,” You tease, “who else is gunna listen to you if i’m not around?” He laughs a little, and you hug him goodbye, before wrapping your arms around Hunter and Wrecker in turn. Crosshair doesn't move.

“See ya around.” He says, turning away, and there’s a crack forming in your heart. You know he’s been different recently, you know he’s just putting up with you. But you thought there was something there. The present evidence seems to prove you wrong. Wrecker’s looking between you and Crosshair in disbelief. He sees you swallow tears and he snaps.

“Wrecker!” Crosshair all but screams as he’s lifted into the air by his brother. Of course he heard him stomp up behind him but he definitely wasn't expecting to be snatched from where he stood.

“She’s your kriffing cyare!” He booms, before unceremoniously shoving Crosshair down into the sand in front of you. It would be funny if you weren't so shocked by Wreckers actions. Crosshair pulls himself up and whips around, arm cocked ready to throw a punch. The hardest glare you’ve ever seen on his face. But it falls when you gently take hold of his arm.

He’s taken back to the night he kissed you, and you begged him to keep the nightmares at bay. He blinks and he’s taken back to the morning he woke with you in his arms. All at once he remembers and forgets why he was pushing you away.

“Crosshair…” You start, but he pulls you into a crushingly tight hug before you finish. Nose to your hair, and your hands around his neck. Like they were made to be there.

“I-I” he starts what would be an apology that he knows won't be enough.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “Just be back soon.” and in a haze he watches you pull away from him and get into the speeder.

“But I promised…” He whispers to himself. “I promised not to leave you…” you’re becoming a speck on the horizon, and he should be happy, he doesn't have to torture himself by refusing to love you anymore.

Except part of him knows, as he feels his heart get torn from his chest, the real torture has just begun.

You see him in your dreams. His corpse, destroyed in front of you. And when you wake with a start, on the dusty planet, in another woman's home, he isn't there to comfort you. Leeya is usually up and so you find her in the kitchen pottering around. You spend those nights cradling her infant child, trying to stop his incessant crying. And you learn that the day she met you she was looking for her husband. Who apparently has been missing for quite some time.

They’ve been gone seven rotations and the nightmares and shakes are getting worse, wrecker isn't here to make you laugh, tech isn't here to drown your thoughts out with ones of his own. Hunter Isn't here to take notice of the smallest changes in your well being. And Crosshair, well, Crosshair isn't here either. But you miss the eternity of him.

Mostly you miss his arms, strong enough to hold you tight but soft enough to cradle the tears away. Wrapping around you away from the universe. An addicting drug at its finest and you’ve only had one hit.

It was late, late enough that you thought no one was awake. Having been travelling through hyperspace with the Batch for 12 regular rotations of 24 hours, you’ve taken to having panic attacks alone in your room, or pacing around the ship when everyone is asleep, pushing away the memories of a family you once had.

“You should be asleep.” Comes the long drawl from the sniper, toothpick in his mouth, wearing only his blacks. You jump back, scared of the sudden noise.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is immediate.

“Don’t be.” He states, looking at you, wrapped up in his blanket like usual, he wonders if it smells like you.

“You’re shaking.” He notes with concern, standing up from his spot and crossing over to you.

“I just do that sometimes.” You admit, trying your hardest not to bring attention to the problem.

“Before we met?” You know what he’s insinuating, did you have a habit of shaking before your parents died.

“Yes.” A lie floods so easily from your lips.

“Promise?” He doesn't believe you, he’s heard stories about the famous fairywren from regs on corosaunt. You were basically famous for heroics and intel, and he’s pretty sure someone like that doesn't shake. You don’t answer him, staring at a spot on the wall behind his shoulder in the hopes you can fake eye contact. You hear him sigh, before his arms encase you.

Once they do, you begin to shake in earnest. From head to toe as if now your mind knows it’s safe, it's letting out all the pent up anxiety. Every breath is interrupted halfway by the next, and tears make trails down your face and into his clothing.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him again, and in response he just holds you tighter. His arms pull you as close as physically possible, and for a moment you let go of everything that's holding you up. Everything you’ve been trying to hide from those you travel with surface with one terrible sob.

“Someone as heavenly as you shouldn't cry.” Crosshair says, placing the gentlest of kisses to your hairline.

“It's my fault they're dead.” You gasp between tears.

“No, Yona, it’s not. You didn't start this war, you didn't ask for your home planet to be invaded. And you didn’t give the order.”

“But I-” You start

“But nothing.” He barges in rather softly. “It’s not, and will never be your fault.”

“He’s going to kill me.” you whisper into the darkness of the havoc marauder. “He would have the day if the neighbours had not heard the screaming. Before he left he promised me, no matter where I hid, he’d find me.”

“I won't let him lay a finger on you.” Crosshair professes to you and himself. His arms that had slacked pull you closer yet again.

“You don’t owe me anything, missions done Cross. I’m just baggage.” You sniffle, lip beginning to tremble.

“Not to me.” He says firmly. You pull back from him just enough to look into his eyes. And with a look both of you ask ‘why me’ and answer the other in one breath. Your quivering hands make their way to the edges of his face. And very, very slowly they start pulling his lips to yours. You stop just before they meet. Waiting for him to pull away, or to ask you to stop, but nothing of the sort happens. His mouth connects to yours as softly as possible and just like that the two of you are kissing.

It’s soft, slow, nurturing and full of feelings neither of you can describe. You never want to leave this embrace and from the way Crosshair is humming against you, he agrees with that statement.

The air runs out eventually, and breathless, the two of you pull away. It doesn't stop him from chasing your lips and placing haphazard final pecks to your slightly agape mouth.

“If i asked you to hold me for the rest of the night, would you?” It's A risky question but you ask it anyway.

“You think i’d say no to someone as stunning as you?”

He wakes to you curled into his frame, arms locked around his stomach where the blacks have ridden up, and he can't tell where his legs start and where yours end because they’re so intertwined. Crosshair looks down at your face, and thinks that he wasn't made to fight in a war. He was made to love you.

And the second that thought crosses his mind, he’s taken back to Kamino where the creepy longnecks tell a younger version over and over again, that he isn't a real person. That he will never have a real life. He begins and ends with this war, and he knows that this war has taken enough from you. And it cant take him from you if he doesn't give himself away.

So he presses one last kiss to your forehead, a tear falling into your hair. He lets himself think about your future, an older happier you, living a free life. It’s just that, in that image, Crosshair isn't there.

“How did you know?” Tech asks Wrecker the second they make it back to the Havoc Marauder and crosshair is out of earshot. He’s been replaying the events back and it makes so much sense, but how was it that both him and Hunter had not clued in?

“Mostly the way he looked at her.” Wrecker says quietly, afraid of his brother overhearing this conversation. “He wasn’t very subtle.” He adds thoughtfully. Tech scrunches his eyebrows together and thinks about all the small smiles the sniper gave you, and yes this was normal behaviour for him around the other batchers, but thinking about it now, crosshair should've been much more cold to an outsider. Perhaps you just blended in so well into their little family he never stopped to notice.

“There's a republic planet not too far from here, we restock there.” Hunter calls to the cockpit, usually maybe he’d poke his head in and check on Tech and Wrecker, but right now, he’s got someone else to check on.

Crosshair is in his room, having collected his blanket from your bunk he sits with it by his bed while wondering how long it’ll smell like you. He’d be angry if he didn’t feel so empty. And because he feels so empty, there's not much he can do but tinker mindlessly with his rifle.

“Cross?” it's phrased like a question but Hunter isn't exactly asking for permission into Crosshairs room. He strides right through the door like he owns the place, (which he kind of does.)

“Sarge!” Crosshair jumps to attention. It’s funny how when your brain does into overdrive it reverts to its base settings and you fall into old habits, and as a clone, habits are kamino training.

“At ease.” Hunter states with a raised eyebrow, when was the last time he asked his crew to stand to attention? He shakes it off. “Cross we gotta talk.”

“We aren't together, you can’t court marshall me.” He snaps, Crosshair has already had this conversation in his head, and he knows that in clone force 99 is where he needs to be. So he’s got every rebuttal and reason stacked in his mind ready to go.

“That wasn’t what I was asking…” Hunter states, and he knows he has to be careful, crosshair is a live wire at the best of times and this, well this is something else entirely.

“What are you asking me then?” Crosshair stands up, coming toe to toe with Hunter, and you don’t need enhanced sense to know cross feels threatened. So Hunter takes a step back, a sign of non-agression.

“I am asking why you would push something like that away.” Hunter says, choosing his words carefully. Not ‘why push her away’ because he knows the answer to that. It’s not allowed, I have to keep her safe, she doesn't feel the same, ect, ect. But in reality Hunter wants to know why he would push away the unspoken feelings they both have for the other. Why would Crosshair throw away something every clone dreamed about? Crosshair doesn't respond at first, but when he does, he explains everything to simply.

“You can’t heal trauma on a battlefield.” and for the first time in his life Hunter sees one of his men shed a tear. It’s gone the second it appears, lost to a face worn down by violence. Gone so quickly Hunter isn't even sure if it’s really there.

“But Crosshair.” He tells him gently “that isn’t your call. It’s hers.” he receives a small nod in return. And Hunter stands in front of him awkwardly, not sure what he is supposed to do next.

“Well.” he clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to it then, because you best start working on your apology.” Crosshair smiles softly at that, and nods with more confidence this time.

“You know sarge, if i didn't know better i’d say you’ve gone soft.” The classic crosshair sarcasm is lacking a tad, but it’s progress.

“Yeah, that Fairywren’s a bad influence.” He says over his shoulder as he leaves the snipers room.

Time has no meaning while they're gone. You decide with an over dramatic sigh while you dig up and plant this strange dessert food. Except it’s not really food, it’s just kind of a thick stemmed thing that oozes out goo that the locals use for a variety of things, including a snack. But you like plants, and you’re more than happy to be left on your own for a bit. Leeya is in the center of town with her son, selling and buying goods for the week.

“Yona!” You hear her shouting from the house, frantic, and worried. “Yona!” she’s sprinting toward you fast as she can with the baby in her arms. You run to meet her halfway, tripping as you scramble to get up.

“What, what is it?” You ask as she collides into you, careful not to squish the infant.

“He’s coming, he’s coming here. Yona he’s coming here.” Leeya pants, terrified. Through the time of your stay you learn her life has also been altered by the trandoshan that hunts you, the kind twi’lek confessed to you one night when you asked why she agreed to help you. And being kind, you didn't press. Her life was her life, and neither of you seemed keen on talking about either of your lives.

“Leeya” You say trying to keep a level head. “Breathe I need you to breathe.” she takes shallow breaths but nods to your suggestion.

“They were talking about it at the market, said someone overheard a transmission.” You look up at the sky for a ship, praying to see one you recognize. But it’s clear skies today and there's nothing in sight. So you can only wrap your arm around Leeya, coo to her son, head inside and pretend not to be scared.

Krexx lands two rotations later, and your occasional shaking becomes constant. Sleep isn’t an option because you always have to be alert. You assume he doesnt know you’re here or he would’ve found you already, but that doesn't ease your nerves. So it’s no surprise to anyone in the household, that when Leeya’s son starts to cry in the middle of th night, you're by his side in an instant.

“Hey little slug, what's got your lekku in a twist?” You scoop him up into your arms and he manages to blow a tear induced spit bubble as a reply.

“See and then you wonder why I call you slug, you slimy thing.” You smile down at him, bouncing slightly, moving your weight from leg to leg trying to stop the crying before his mum wakes.

But don’t worry, it’s okay to be slimy.” You hope your voice will calm him, his wailing has stopped but you can tell from the sniffles one wrong move and you'll be back to square one.

“I know someone who’s got a great story about slime, maybe one day he can tell you about it. Except maybe we’d have to get Tech to tell you, He’s so smart, and because Wrecker, well he’s a lot but you’ll love him either way, and Hunter’s kind rough around the edges but all squishy in the middle…” You trail off, and blink back tears that are a physical manifestation of stress.

“And Crosshair, he’d take such good care of you, he’s kind of intimidating, got this whole pretended beskar exterior, but it’s all an act. He’d get you the softest blankets and he checks on everyone to make sure they eat and sleep and whatnot. I bet you’d really like him little slug.” you let some tears fall and giggle a little.

“See now you’ve got us both crying now what am I supposed to do?” you say, except when you look down he’s fallen back asleep. So you place him back down, carefully wrapped in blankets.

“You know, you don't have to help with him.” Leeya says from the door, with a smile that tells you she’s not being totally serious.

“Just earning my keep.” You joke and she sighs and follows you out of the baby’s room to make some kind of beverage. Pulling cups down and heating water to mix with a scoop of the extract from the plants you gathered today.

“You haven't been sleeping.” She notes as she hands you a cup. You hum in response, not really knowing what to say. So the two of you sit in comfortable silence, until one of the buttons by her door starts to blink. It’s not the lock mechanism, because it's not red or green.

“What's the blue light?” You ask, taking a sip of the drink that you decide maybe isn't too horrible.

“Scanners picked something up, out across the dunes.” She mumbles standing and making her way over to the window to peer out of it. You follow her to squint in the darkness.

“Leeya…” You whisper, “what’s out there?”

“Something big if the scanners can get it from that far out.” she turns from the window, rushing to place the cup down and back to the babies room.

“A ship?” You ask chasing after her, as she scoops up her son.

“Could be, but if it is, that doesn't make us any safer.” She opens her cupboard and hands you her long range rifle.

“I know you think it’s them, but I’m telling you, whatever it is, it probably isn't friendly.” she tells you, a sad look on her face.

“I know.” You tell her, “stay here with baby slug. I’ll check it out.” You tell her heading for the door.

“How many times have I told you, his name is Galer.” She sighs, “be safe.” She adds as the durasteel door creaks and slides open. You look back with a smile before disappearing out the door.

The night on this planet is as annoying as the day, the wind picks up so much that even if you could see through the pitch black, the sand in your eyes prevents you from making anything desirable out. But you know your way to the dunes where you landed, having trekked there almost everyday hoping the Batch had returned for you.

In the distance there’s a hulking shadow, most certainly a large transport of some kid, but if it's a ship (and not some terrifying Jawa contraption) is it the Havoc Marauder? The sand is loose under your feet, and every step is a struggle to unburry the step you took before it. Your heart feels like it’s screaming for Crosshair, while your brain sush’s it with thoughts of untold peril.

In the darkness you see movement appear over a sand dune, and on instinct you throw yourself into the grainy stuff for cover, shouldering the rifle and looking through the scope. There’s just the crickets and your breathing as you make out one figure, then another, and another until the fourth and final body comes into view. You adjust the scope with a flutter of frantic fingers. One smaller than the rest? Check? Hulking gentle giant? Yeppers. You make out a pack on the back of the one that seems to be leading the group and….

And then you see the shadow of a rifle.

You scramble for purchase in the soft sand, like some kind of manic beetle running for cover. Your brain has tunnel vision brought from the gap in your heart.

“Crosshair!” You scream into the darkness, as you start sprinting towards the group, it was a stupid idea, blowing your cover, even stupider to leave your rifle behind. But you don’t care.

The entire group whips around at the noise, and you hear them calling out into the night.

“Wren!” it’s his voice, and you know it’s him that's also running towards you. You’ve counted so many kriffing rotations since you last saw, spoke to or heard from him.

Crosshair can't think straight, there’s so much he needs to apologize for, so much he needs to tell you and maker, if he can’t get you into his arms soon he might implode.

But then, he doesn't have enhanced senses for nothing, he sees it out of the corner of his eye, his brain checking the area for snipers without him even being conscious it’s doing so until it actually finds one.

And so he goes barrelling into you at full speed, hunching down and tackling the both of you into the ground, as the rest of the batch scrambles for cover and to return fire. You feel like you’re being dragged into the sand and you can’t breath, hearing, but not seeing blaster shots.

“Crosshair,” You reach for him as he pushes you further into the ground trying to shield your body.

“Stay down!” He shouts, already looking through the scope of his rifle. You try to get to him again, but he sees you move and he abandons the shot in favour of pushing you into the sand again.

“Stay. Down.” he hisses into your ear. And he registers your mumbles, having forgotten, if anyone knew Krexx and his tactics. It was you.

“They knew. They knew Crosshair! They were waiting for you to come back!” your hands finally find purchase on a part of him and the latch on like magnetic durasteel. “None of you have armour, they knew.” You press, searching his eyes praying he understands. One look up and he sees a group of trandoshans marching to where his brothers are currently defending. He moves for his rifle and starts making shots as you spot your gun, laying useless in the sand a few meters away. Crawling on your tummy over to it, your hand wraps around the butt of the gun as it’s grabbed by a single trandoshan, who must have been scouting on the other side of the city.

The blaster rifle is ripped from you as your shoulder takes a powerful kick that winds you as your back hits the ground. He pulls a smaller hand held blaster on you, but you’re quick enough to send a fistful of sand into his face, followed by a flailing kick to his knee cap. As he drops, a gun fires from behind you, and the creature drops dead. You grab your gun from his grasp and twist to see Crosshairs rifle still smoking, as another reptile runs at him, you pull the trigger on your rifle, sending him to the ground. Crosshair looks over his shoulder, then back to you.

“Never told me you were that good a shot.” he comments as you scurry back over to him.

“You didn’t ask.” you grit out, laying down more cover fire.

“Hot.” He smirks, and you gape at him, yes he looks fantastic in civilian clothes, in fact, given different situations you might take the time to stare at him.

“Really? That. now?” you shout over the desert battle. “You shut yourself off from me, ditch me for weeks on this hell hole, and now you want to flirt in the middle of this sweet hell!” you gesture wildly to the entire situation.

“I have an apology ready, but I figured it should wait until we aren't getting shot at!” He rolls over onto your body as a human shield as the trandoshan sniper, rains all hell down on the two of you. Crosshair looks up just enough so that he can see your eyes, and he knows if he’s about to die he needs to kiss you one more time.

So he does. It’s messy and uncoordinated, less soft than the first one you two had shared. It’s frantic, worried, desperately trying to compensate for kisses he now worries you’ll never get the chance to share.

You respond in kind, pressing open mouth kisses into him as the only way to try and communicate that you know. You know he’s sorry, you know he missed you, you know he’s going to promise to never leave you again. You know him. Maybe better than he was originally okay with, but right now he just doesn't care.

“The blasts.” You say thorough kisses, causing him to pause and check his surroundings.

“They stopped…” he supplies, leaning up a tad more onto his forearms, still keeping you encased beneath him.

“No help from the two of you.” Says Hunter as him, Tech and Wrecker approach the tiny hill you had both been hiding behind. Crosshair stands up brushing himself off before pulling you up and into his arms, glaring at his vod while he places a (slightly angry) kiss to the top of your head.

“Can I say hi to everyone else?” The question sounds squished as you mumble it out from your spot against his chest.

“Fine.” Crosshair relents, letting you go allowing his brothers to crowd you and basically coo over how much they missed you. “So much for my cyare.” he grumbles to himself, only slightly pouting at the attention that isn't his anymore.

And from within a twi’leks house, just off the edge of the sand dunes, one last trandoshan watches. And waits.

Crosshair didn't let you get more than a few steps away from him the entire way back to Leeya’s house. It was almost as if the more you walked the more nervous he got that you would disappear in front of his eyes. His hand slipped it’s way into yours, gently dragging you so that Crosshair could feel the warmth of you.

“Clingy.” You state, leaning into him as you walked through the sand. He hums in response, not bothering to try and deny it. His brothers marvel at how much he’s changed since you came into their lives.

“It’s very impressive.” Tech admits, “the Fairywren seems to be able to trigger evolutionary change in humans. Who knew such a small creature could cause such a shift in personality?” Crosshair makes a gesture at Tech that you don’t see but assume it was rude either way.

“Shove off Tech.” He says over his shoulder. You all but coo up at Crosshair, smiling towards him when he meets your gaze.

“So you’re done pushing me away now?” You ask, teasing a little, but also hesitant, worried that he’ll grow cold again.

“Yeah, someone talked some sense into me.” He tells you, briefly glancing over to Hunter, who only smiles and gives him a mock salute.

“Hmm? And which of your vod do I have to thank for that?” You look at the rest of the batch behind you.

“I guess you’ll never know.” Crosshair says, wrapping his arm around you again, stealing you away from the others. Maker, he really is clingy when he wants to be.

Peaking your head around the corner of one of the edge buildings you check for any other trandoshans. There's nothing. The wind whistles through the city as it sleeps, and you hope by the time morning comes, Drexx hasn't found the mess the five of you left his troop in.

It’s the door to Leeya’s house that makes you stop, Cross feels you go rigid in his arms, and even he doesn't notice the cause at first.

“The keypad.” You shakily whisper, it looks as if it's been removed and hastily replaced. Something only someone who’s been watching their back for as long as you have would notice. Without pausing to think you break away from Crosshair and dash inside. You hear him call your name at the same time a blaster clicks beside your head.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Drexx hisses from beside you, Leeya is sitting on the floor in her living room, Galer crying in her arms.

“He’s just a kid,” You immediately start begging. You’ve been here before, the same blaster, a much wetter planet and two adults shaking in front of you instead of one. Body trembling in its entirety.

“Please.” you try again, “he’s just a baby.” Tears fall of their own accord. Like your body doesn't know what else to do other than tremble from head to toe and poor water from your eyes.

“Should’ve kept away from them then.” Drexx tells you as he places himself on a chair in the room, twirling his blaster happily. Just as Clone Force 99 barges their way in.

“Oh, looks like your friends have finally caught up.” He snarls. Pointing his gun at you again. “Seems to me they are short of some armour though. I wonder how resilient clones are when they’re not protected by fancy plastoid.” A choked sob leaves your body, what have you done? How could this be happening, again?

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, come here little Fairywren.” Krexx hushes you and you know you have no choice to listen to him. Crossing the room on shaking legs, hearing a struggle behind you as Hunter tries to hold Crosshair back.

“You.” Krexx says moving his blaster to point at Cross. “You, I recognize. Last we met, you were passed out in binders. Decided to cuff yourself to some new deadweight I see.” He looks at you and then back to Crosshair. Having a superb time with the power he’s found himself in possession of.

“Krexx…” you’ve got no option but to try and reason with him again, still focused on the family behind you. “Just let these two go. You know you don’t need them anymore. And you know you can’t kill civilians in a neutral system.” His features curl in anger as he turns to you.

“Who would report me? You? The clones?” He’s just playing with his food at this point. Enjoying the terror he’s bringing, and thriving off of your trauma. He places his blaster down on the table and places his feet atop it.

“How about we make a deal Fairywren?” He offers, relaxing into the chair.

“What kind of deal?” You ask timidly. Brain working overtime to try and figure out how to get out of your situation.

“Someone gets to walk away from this alive, I don’t care who. Could be them, could be mama and baby over there. Could be you.” Your eyes lock with Crosshair, you both know what's about to happen.

“Your call. Who gets to live? And more importantly who else gets to die because the famous fairywren couldn't keep her trap shut?”

Everything seems to be put on pause for a second as your brain spirals out of control. Almost like your mind swims away from your physical body, and watches what happens next.

“Me.” You say firmly. “It was my mistake, I am the snitch. I get to die.”Your voice is confident. So much so that you think Krexx might be impressed.

“Then which of them gets to die?” He asks you, willing, wanting you to continue.

“Neither, you get me, that’s it. That's the deal.” You do your best to remain as confident as possible but it’s slipping away quickly.

“And why would I agree to that?” Krexx questions, wondering what plan you've concocted.

“Because killing them wasn't a part of your orders. You kill an entire force of Troopers and the republic will demand your head on a pike. Kill civilians of a neutral planet and the republic gains yet another supporter. You have orders. So did I, I followed them, it got me here. You follow yours and this stops today.” You’re hoping the dramatic rhetoric is enough. It seems to be enough to make Krexx pause and think for a moment.

“You say that like if i shoot you in here, your band of freaks won't tear my head off.” Krexx comments after a long period of time. And you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“Outside then.” You fire back.

“Wren.” Crosshair says, and you can’t even meet his eyes. The crack in his voice is enough.

“Outside then.” Krexx agrees. Motintiong for you to walk onwards the door as he picks up his blaser. “One more thing.” he adds, pausing as the two of you are almost to the door.

You scream as the bolt hits Crosshair in the left leg. All plans forgotten as you turn towards him. He hits the ground on his good knee as Tech and Hunter crowd him desperate to save what's left of the burning flesh. Wrecker turns on Krexx who promptly grasps your bicep and points the gun to your head.

“Just needed a little insurance that we wouldn't be followed. And he seemed to be a trouble maker.” He gives a nod to the scene in front of him, like an artist finally content with their work he pulls you from the house.

Crosshair feels like his leg is being swallowed by Magma, it’s pain that burns bright all up his body. Tech does his best to get the ruined fabric away from the wound, but other than wrap it in non-ruined shirt material and put pressure on it there's not much that can be done.

“Roof.” Crosshair gasps out, trying to move for his sniper rifle.

“Crosshair, you put pressure on a wound like that and you might not be keeping that leg.” Tech tells him, trying to find anything resembling bacta. He feels a hand on his shoulder, the Twi’lek, Leeya he thinks her name is, presses a stim shot into his hand.

“Stairs lead all the way up, on the right.” She deadpans, turning away from the group clutching onto her child. With a grunt, Crosshair stabs the stim shot into his leg, tying the material as tight as he can before the pain becomes overwhelming. His hand goes for the gun again, and Hunter’s beats him to it. He opens his mouth to argue.

“All due respect sarge,” Wrecker interrupts, taking the rifle from Hunter, and hoisting Crosshair to his feet. Wrecker goes to add something, but he doesn't, opting for a curt nod to his sergeant before dragging his half conscious brother towards the stairs.

Krexx leads you to the open sand, the morning sun now on the rise, beginning to warm the land.

“At least it’s a nice view.” You breathe as he pushes you to your knees, moving the blaster into position. Your mind goes blank, unsure of where to go from here.

Your body however, knows exactly what to do. And with one last surge of adrenaline it twists in the sand and you use both hands to get a grasp on Krexx’s wrist, standing and using your momentum to pull him over you and into the sand. From there it’s a scurry as you search for the weapon. Only to be yanked by your hair as the trandoshan regains his footing. A jab with your elbow, loosens his grip enough so that your second jab crashes into his teeth. You make the mistake of kicking him, with such force that you lose your balance in the sand. This gives him time to wrap hands around your windpipe and begin to crush it. You flail in the sand kicking it up in one last desperate fight.

Crosshair stumbles onto the roof, his eyes are dropping and he’s fighting to even keep them open. Wrecker drags him over to the ledge and points at two figures in the distance. From his guess they are about 12 clicks away, a fully functioning Crosshair might not even be able to make this shot, let alone a half dead one. Wrecker can only stand next to him and squint into the sunrise as his brother desperately tries to line up the shot. A figure drops as he pulls the trigger, but it’s impossible to tell who it is.

Krexx falls to the side as the blaster bolt comes into contact with his body. It’s enough to dislodge him but not enough to kill him. Rolling in the sand all you can think about is getting air back into your system, but a death grip on your lower leg reminds you the fight isn't over. You kick the Trandoshan again to dislodge him and you turn to bring your hands together in a devastating hit to where his neck meets his chest. Something in the sand catches your eye as you search for the blaster and your hand goes out to it.

It’s not the blaster, it’s a rock. But a rock will do. Positioning yourself above him, Krexx just laughs.

“Go on then, beat me to a bloody death.” And you gulp, eyes flickering from the rock to him. And you wonder if you have it in you to literally bash a man's head in. He continues to laugh at you. Make you cant viciously kill a man with a jagged stone. But you can certainly knock him out with one.

So you bring the rock down once and then twice for good measure, until he stops struggling with so much power and you can pull him into a choke hold. Eventually allowing him to become unconscious beneath you. Leeya’s speeder is coming towards you, Hunter and her at the helm. She embraces you as Hunter binds the general, he turns towards you, and he picks the blaster out of the sand a few feet away. Pressing it into your hands, you think about shooting Krexx. But you know what good the republic could do with the information he holds.

Whether you shoot him is your decision. And yours alone.

But for now, you have more important matters on your mind.

Crosshair wakes up in a medbay, vaguely remembering your face in the morning sun. someone begging for him to stay awake, and that a republic cruiser was in a nearby system. He remembers feeling your soft hands cradling his face, and thinking dying wouldn't be so bad if he had gotten to say goodbye.

“Wakey wakey.” He hears you call to him, a clean GAR uniform on, but still his black blanket wrapped around you. He tries to shift up, but Cross is stopped by your hand on his chest.

“M’ fine.” He grunts out, trying to sit up again. You sit yourself on the side of his bed and refuse to move your hand.

“Humour me?” You softly ask, Crosshair sighs but lays back down anyways. “Medics say you’ll make a full recovery. Tech says that once Hunter gets a hold of you they’ll say otherwise. Something about disobeying orders?” Your hand moves from his chest and into the hair at the side and back of his neck. Nails running gently over the tense muscle. He hums at the feeling, and subconsciously his hands search for purchase by your waist. Rubbing circles over the material and down into your skin.

“Technically it was Wrecker that disobeyed orders.” He argues, letting his hands drift to the small of your back.

“You know I could give you the lecture of your life for being such an idiot. But maybe i'll just be mad at you later instead.” You say fondly, letting him shift enough to make room beside his good leg for you to squish in the cot next to him.

“You just can’t stay angry at someone this handsome.” He gives you a signature Crosshair smirk and moves his blanket over the two of you.

“I beg to differ. I certainly can stay angry at someone that handsome.” You tease, snuggling closer to him. Feeling his chest move as he chuckles. Crosshair stairs down at you, and just like the first time you found yourself in his arms he’s thinking about a time when the war is over and you’re living a life without fear or bloodshed. Except this time that older version of you is joined by an older version of him, pulling him close and kissing his lips for the billionth time.

“I love you.” He whispers into your hair, breathing away tears.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, shifting just enough to let your eyes flutter closed and press your lips to his.

Some months later…

The airstrip is packed, and yet the wind still manages to find its way into the smallest of spaces, sending shivers deep into the skin of anyone present.

“Experimental unit Clone Force 99. They’re defective clones with, uh… Desirable mutations.” Commander Cody explains to a very hesitant Captain Rex

“99, eh? Nice touch.” He says as the ramp descends.

“They call themselves, The Bad Batch.” Cody states with pride as Wrecker appears in the doorway, slaughtering down shouting something about the cavalry arriving. You stifle a giggle at their dramatics. Pulling your custom helmet, courtesy of Tech, over your head. While the boys had their grey and red plastic armour, yours had been painted with a little extra blue, forming wings that cascaded down the plate covering your back. The helmet however, featured foot prints of the bird ini question, each with a very small crosshair encircling them.

And yes, you had added a delicately placed fairywren painting to crosshairs inner plating beside his ribcage.

“Sergeant. Good to see you again.” Cody greets you all, as you stand beside your Cyare, eyeing him carefully. He doesn't work well with others, especially when others involve regular clones. You jab your elbow into Crosshairs side playfully, reminding him to look a little less like he wants to explode right then and there.

“I see that Wren fits right in.” The commander adds, giving you a smile and a nod, you finally pull off your helmet, much to the shock of Rex, Jesse and Kix.

“That's definitely not a clone.” Kix says to Jesse.

“Long time no see commander.” You say returning his smile, you move for a hug but Cody extends his hand to you.

“Last time I tried to hug you, your Ram’ser almost killed me.” He reminds you with a side glance to Crosshair who looks even more annoyed with every passing second.

“He’s harmless.” You wave him off and hug him anyways. Crosshair tries not to visibly stiffen, he’s wildly protective and even more so possessive. But it’s understandable considering you’re the only thing he’s ever known to bring him happiness.

“Sorry we’re late, Commander. We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen… complications.” Hunter cuts in, knowing that this whole debacle needs to get a move on.

“You ever fought a male Yalbec?” Wrecker asks loudly, enjoying the show you’re all putting on for the regs.

“Um, Can’t say i have…” Jesse responds carefully, still looking at your with confusion, of course he’d heard of the Fairywren, but meeting a hero in person hits a little different than the stories.

“You’re lucky! Only way to kill ‘em is with one of these.” Wrecker adds pulling out the biggest vibroblade Jessie has ever seen.

“That’s right. Wrecker here cut off the queen’s stinger while she was still alive.” Hunter adds, still a little pissed off at his vod for the incident in question. “That’s why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us.” You chuckle at the memory, Crosshair had been understandably angry after all you were able to do was sit and laugh your ass off as they frantically ran around surrounded by Yalbec males.

“Ah, technically they were trying to mate with us. And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets.” Tech jumps in causing you to laugh even more, and causing Crosshair to softly tap the side of your hip as if to say ‘cut it out.’ (But with a loving tone of course)

“They call him Tech.” Cody explains to the other three clones who look petrified at the disaster of a family in front of them.

“Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours. Crosshair, on the other hand, is not much of a conversationalist, but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, Crosshair’s your man.” Hunter boasts, causing a ghost of a smile form on his lips.

“Actually sarge,” You cut in. “I believe he’s my man, ten klicks away or otherwise.” Crosshair does smile at that, sending you a look filled with sassy adoration and winding an arm around your middle. Hunter rolls his eyes. Crosshair may be possessive but you’re on a whole other level. He’s all you’ve got, and you’re all he’s got, it’s a recipe for the clingy disaster that is your relationship.

“Don’t get me started on those two.” He grumbles to Cody, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the two of you. “So Commander, what kind of suicide mission do you have for us this time?” He asks, heading back to the ship with Cody in tow.

“After you.” Crosshair slurs at the blonde captain who bristles at the statement, but follows Cody onto the Havoc Marauder with Jessie and Kix.

“Play nice.” you scold looking up at him with heart eyes, not that you ever look at him without heart eyes.

“Make me Cyare.” He smirks at you, before pulling you into a bruising kiss, not hesitating to make it far too passionate to be shared in public. That's another thing about Crosshair, he kisses you when he sees fit, no matter the setting or situation. After he finally officially had you in his arms he vowed never to miss a moment to kiss you.

“Ugh, jus’ get on the ship already, let's go!” Wrecker booms from behind you, so you cup his face and pull away, letting his lip chase yours as they part all too soon.

“Come on Ram’ser, we’ve got seppie ass to kick.” You tell him, all butt skipping back to the ship. The love of your life right behind you every step of the way.

80 notes · View notes