Bad Batchin

“I’m just a man, admiring the show.”

Crosshair kept trained on Omega. They’d lingered here long enough, surely she had enough credits for those maker-forsaken shuttle tickets. He would’ve made a motion to leave, but he didn’t want to be read by the bounty hunter.

When several Imperials entered, he had to hold back from cursing. Omega kept her confidence, her eyes flashing to him, indicating she had it under control. He didn’t want to trust her, yet here they were, free from Tantiss. The Imperial Captain demanded their “mutt” be gotten rid of. Upon Omega’s signal, Crosshair lent his faith one more time as he escorted Batcher outside. He expected the bounty hunter to follow, but he was left alone to count snowflakes scuttling under the streetlights. He watched them, each speck a second he tallied of how much time he was leaving Omega unsupervised. At three hundred, he’d go back in.

His stomach began to curdle at two-hundred and eighty-six. He clicked at Batcher who had been nuzzling at a snowmound. The kid was wrong – we’ll need a shootout to get out of this kriffing mess.

Three hundred.

He rummaged a clutter of metal junk disposed outside the bar, seeking any sort of makeshift weapon to ensure their safety…

The doors hissed opened, the Imperials exiting, muttering about the game. Crosshair went to dash in as they passed but the door opened again, revealing Omega and a tall silhouette behind her.

“Crosshair!” She exclaimed. He flinched at her ignorant excitement. “I won!”

But Crosshair wasn’t looking at her – he glared at the blue duros behind her, red eyes creased in a grin.

“What did you do?” Crosshair demanded, words as frigid as the night air.

“I told you – I won! And many credits at that!”

“What did you do?”

The duro’s mouth spread like a nexu. “You heard the little lady – she won, and big time at that.”

“I did! And this man offered to pay my fees.”

“Fees?” Crosshair’s eyebrows deepened.

“Gambling’s illegal here,” the bounty hunter answered. “I made sure the Captain was compensated his full ten thousand credits so that your girl here could keep all her winnings.”

Crosshair looked to Omega, who beamed with the serendipity she believed in. “He also said he could get us off planet, no charge.”

Crosshair dragged his gaze back up to the duros. “Oh did he?”

The bounty hunter popped out a toothpick, planting it smugly between pointed teeth before answering, “You heard her right.”

“What do we owe you now? Our cold, dead bodies?” Crosshair’s fingers dug into his palms. He wanted nothing more than to swipe that sickly greed off that blue face. He was starting to believe violence was the only way off this shit-stained planet. Omega stepped forward, gripping the bag of her earnings to her chest.

“All I have to do is win him a game off-planet.”

“Only?” Crosshair nearly choked. Countless dire situations played out simultaneously in his mind. More muscles clenched. This bounty hunter had taken advantage of Omega’s naivete, her good nature, her –

“Relax,” the duros reached out, blue fingers poised toward him. “Like she said, one win, and we’re considered even.”

Crosshair looked between the two – two faces bought and sold on a plan he’d been left out of. It was a trap so obvious, he might as well start shouting they were Empire captive runaways to the Imperial-littered street.

“Not a chance,” Crosshair attempted to cut ties, but the bounty hunter had anticipated it.

“Would be a shame to lose such talent to the authorities, after all, gambling is illegal,” the blackmail maneuver slid like a skiff over oil. “Port has been running hot these days. If you want out from Imperial noses, I’m your best bet.”

Omega’s eyes were larger than twin suns.

“Crosshair, please. No one gets hurt this way.”

Crosshair snarled, suppressing every intention he had of slugging the duros and blasting out the entire town for their freedom. He moved close to the stranger, his cold breath curling against blue skin.

“One. Game.”

Strong fingers unclenched his, sliding into a forced handshake.

“One win.”

All of Crosshair’s sass and tactical prowess disappeared when the adrenaline ran out. He hadn’t rested properly since Tantiss – their escape, flight and crashland to the planet had all been one motion, one hellish blur. The bounty hunter’s ship had cells, but the duros kept up his feigned hospitality by letting them have free reign. He knew they were too exhausted to do anything. Like domesticated tookas, they immediately sought out a quiet space.

Crosshair fell into a restless sleep. His recurring nightmares from Tantiss had followed him – endless visions of the probe droid, the straps that squeezed him for air and left him with welts. Emerie’s emotionless eyes witnessing his torture, saying the unsaid: he was worthless to save. And then there was Hunter, dressed as Hemlock. You turned on us, Cross. You betrayed your brothers. You deserve to be dissected now.

He always woke with damp eyes.

His trembling hand rubbed away at the shame. Hunter must be buried in his well-deserved guilt – the bitter consolation eased the weight on his ribs. The best remedy to his pity consisted of two things – toothpicks and insults. Relapse consumed him.

He was angry at the Batch for ignoring his warnings, for their obviously stupid blunders that led to Omega’s imprisonment. He’d make sure to return her safely, even if it only meant wounding Hunter’s pride more than his own. He stalked the ship, seeking any weapons, but, as expected, everything had been prisoner-proofed.

“Rise and shine,” that raspy, modulated voice said, causing him to flinch.

“How am I not dead yet,” Crosshair sneered, slowly turning to see the bounty hunter, clad in a long duster, leaning against the metallic doorway.

“Typically, you would be,” the duros crossed his arms. “But I’m feeling generous. You should feel lucky.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” Crosshair’s tone had airlocked any semblance of emotion. “To whom I owe the pleasure?”

The bounty hunter drew a finger over the brim of his hat.

“Cad Bane, at your service.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but his head felt too light and scrambled to properly recall. Symptoms of the malnourishment.

“What’s with this rouse of niceness, Bane?”

“Who’s saying it’s a rouse?”

Crosshair huffed. “You need the kid to win, not her deadbeat chauffeur.”

“You’re observant – that the way you got a crosshair over your eye?” A sharp-toothed grin followed. Crosshair clenched his jaw, scowl remaining.

The duros kicked off from the doorway, slowly walking towards him. “But seems the sniper is more rusty than he realizes,” Bane suddenly gripped his right hand, voice dropping to a raspy whisper. “We don’t want to spoil the girl’s gift with distress now, do we? We can’t have our winner crying over daddy, we need her winning – I’m sure you agree.”

Crosshair narrowed his eyes, ripping his hand free. He was under the shadow of Bane’s large-brimmed hat. Fresh cigarra acrid in his nose.

“I’m not stupid – ”

“I never said you were.”

“This isn’t just one game.”

Cad Bane only responded by slotting a toothpick between a spreading grin, the other end pricked at Crosshair’s lips. He wanted nothing more than to snap at it, feel the familiar rigid wood along his teeth. His jaw ached at the phantom memory, his tongue wet.

“You might like it,” Bane purred. Crosshair realized he had been staring down at the toothpick. His eyes now flicked to those unblinking pools of crimson.

“Like what?”

“A life of freedom, CT-9904.”

A chill as frigid as Barton IV shot up his spine. The Empire, Rampart, Tantiss…the baggage of his call number betrayed him, his stony expression wavered. Bane’s eyes tilted with the pleasure of catching him off guard. Upon reflex, Crosshair bit at the toothpick, his anger easily snapping it in half before he forcefully spat it at the bounty hunter’s boots.

“Keep me out of your mouth.”

Crosshair missed his armor, like he missed his steady hand. Another innate part of himself, lost. All he was now was a doll of pity, dressed up in prison rags, waiting not to be played with, but to gather dust.

Even though he had free reign on the ship, he knew Bane was always watching – his gauntlet of gadgets ready to subdue any unwarranted curiosity. The planet they were travelling to must be on the other side of the galaxy, or perhaps Crosshair’s sense of time was becoming faulty as well. The walls felt tighter, the bed stiffer, and the durasteel floors colder. Omega had delusional prospects and Batcher to stay upbeat. Bane even let her ride in the cockpit with him at times. Crosshair was left to simmer in his misery, and that’s when his mind retreated to the one last comfort he had.

Mayday.

Just the thought of him sparked flint, creating a flame of warmth inside his hollowed chest. He huddled closely to the memories. Soft brown eyes. A hearty laugh. Unwavering bravery and patience. Did they kill you or take you? The familiar question, rising like smoke. He tried to not inhale too deeply, and instead focused back on that face. What words of comfort would Mayday give now if he were here? No matter the scenario he played out, there was always one certainty: everything would be better with him around.

They were nearing their destination, Crosshair could sense it. The high speed hum of the engines had lowered an octave. Bane was spending more time in the cockpit. Crosshair sought out Omega, confronting her about the future.

“You know this isn’t freedom for us,” he said, arms crossed.

Omega didn’t look up from where she crouched giving belly rubs to Batcher. “It was our deal to get off the planet. After my win, Bane – ”

“He’s a bounty hunter.”

Omega glanced at him but said nothing. Crosshair pressed on.

“If we really were free, then why won’t he let us call Hunter?”

His cloud of doubt shadowed Omega’s sunshine into a frown.

“What do we do then, Crosshair?”

“Once we land – Plan 62.”

Omega straightened, giving him a firm nod. They kept their interactions sparse after that, as to not incite suspicion from Bane. During a quick meal, Crosshair asked her if she had seen a list of clone captures on Tantiss.

“Not many, I was just focused on getting you out,” her blue eyes went overcast with the weight of the memory. “There were so many we left behind…”

“Mhhm,” Crosshair vocalized, his chest tight.

“I know you…stayed in the Empire for a while,” Omega started, her voice tip-toeing towards the subject.

“What of it?” The sneer followed his side-eye.

“Did you make new friends? Any troopers that might be…on Tantiss?”

Crosshair reflexively huffed, rolling his eyes to hide his fear.

“I was taken to Tantiss because of my ties with Clone Force Ninety-Nine.”

“They’re taking regs to Tantiss too,” Omega pointed out.

Crosshair studied the floor. The durasteel lay dull, just as he wished his feelings were. He didn’t want to care about Mayday — the constant worry about whether he was still alive or not had been agonizing, and would surely compromise him in some way in the future if left unchecked.

Omega took a deep breath. “I want to help Echo rescue our brothers.”

Crosshair raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“From Tantiss?”

“Yes,” determination filled her steady gaze. “We escaped once, I’m sure we can again.”

A scoff escaped him. How he longed for a toothpick.

“Good luck with that,” his tone was dry, but his chest ached. If I could just see him one more time… He would never admit how much he wanted Omega to succeed.

The planet looked expensive. Between the adrenaline sprints and stealthy sabotage, he caught glimpses of gold-crusted architecture and shimmering skylines. Bane had been betting big on Omega.

“No funny business,” the duros had warned when they first left the ship. Crosshair had only grinned, a stolen toothpick already in hand. Betraying Cad Bane would come in the form of Plan 62, and Crosshair knew Hunter would strangle him for having Omega participate in it.

The stealth mission was a reprieve from the mental swamps he had been drowning in. The balmy air breathed new life into his weakened lungs. He tasted freedom. His skin was quickly sticky from the sweat that broke out as he had focused through several diversions, deceptions, and distress signals. The plan was elaborate, and since they were down several members, he had to play several roles. Time to haul ass, he growled to himself after he sent the final message of coordinates to the Batch. Every second he spent away put Omega at risk, because it was seconds spent away from Bane.

He had to give her credit - the girl had toughened up since her whiny days on Kamino. She was dedicated to her part, chin raised as she sat the shortest at the high-stakes table. It was almost flawless.

The Marauder punctured the glass dome ceiling, and the casino floor erupted into screams and gunfire. He wouldn’t admit that it was his fault the rescue had turned out so dramatic, but one small mistake led to a few stolen items, which led to the only exit being up.

Omega dodged a few stun shots from Bane, then threw her briefcase of credits at him before leaping to the ship’s rope.

“One game!” She called, giving him a wave as she ascended.

Bane howled, pointing his blaster at her, but it flew across the room before his finger found the trigger. He staggered around, spotting Crosshair across the room, a stolen rifle smoking.

“I said no – ” Bane shouted against the screaming engines and glass-cackling wind.

“Funny business!” Crosshair cut in, his long strides closing the gap to the dangling rope.

The Marauder hoisted him upward, the rope burning slightly on his palms. The once-marvelous casino now a mess of crushed glass and smoke beneath them. Crosshair exhaled, sharp and breathless. He liked that Cad Bane watched him escape, knowing that Crosshair had betrayed him first. Hilarious business, indeed.

There was an explosion of relief when the Batch reunited with Omega. However, the hugs and smiles quickly dissipated into discomfort as soon as they looked towards their wayward brother.

“Plan 62, really?” The accusation from Hunter was the closest thing he’d receive to a warm reception back.

“You’re welcome,” Crosshair sneered, already feeling claustrophobic. Omega began to defend him, but he was already at the back of the ship, desperate for distance. Every smell, vibration, and surface held a memory. A panic began to throttle his neck as the shock of the mission faded and reality settled around him.

After everything, he was back with the Batch, and they clearly didn’t trust him.

They left him alone, for a while. Omega brought him food. Batcher came to sniff at his boots. Wrecker was the first to approach.

“I don’t know if it’ll still fit, but…here,” he held out a large, rectangular crate. Crosshair stared for a while, before opening the latches one at a time.

His old armor. It sat, so unchanged – unlike himself. An identity he didn’t think he’d see again.

“It never felt right to get rid of it. And…I figured you probably wanted some armor. Some new blacks too for you,” Wrecker said, scratching the back of his bald head.

Crosshair was at a loss for words. He was left alone after that.

He didn’t ask for anything – no requests, or updates to where they were going. He easily faded into rest, his weak body needing the hibernation. His thoughts drifted back to Mayday, to their last interaction on Barton IV.

“They’ll punish you for this. You should’ve just let him kill me,” Mayday had stuttered, his indignation was the last bit of his energy. The troopers were closing in, guns pointed, when his vision began to blur. He remembered muttering, “enough clones have died on this planet,” before the darkness had taken him, returning him into Hemlock’s clutches. The memory was a deep groove, every detail engrained as he had sought it out every day, multiple times a day. If Mayday had been on Tantiss that entire time…if he still was…Crosshair’s fingers dug into his arms as the waves of guilt and grief battered him. The pain nearly consumed him but a pair of light, familiar steps snapped him back on guard.

He didn’t look up as he growled, “come to throw me out the airlock?”

Hunter sighed. “I considered it, but we’re all needed on Teth.”

“Why?”

“Captain Rex and Echo insisted.”

Crosshair scoffed at the names. “For what?”

“Their operation has been trying to get more intel on Tantiss for months. You and Omega are the only ones who’ve been there and made it out alive.”

“I was a prisoner, I don’t have much to share. You should know that.”

A soft groan of annoyance escaped Hunter. Crosshair felt the familiar glee of getting under his Sergeant’s skin.

“Look, I don’t know exactly why you did what you did to earn a ride to Tantiss. Echo mentioned that one of Rex’s rescues spoke highly of you – ”

Crosshair looked up, eyes snapping to meet Hunter’s. His breath caught from the rush of hope. It couldn’t be.

“Who?”

Hunter was confused by the sudden vigor of Crosshair’s interest.

“I…um, I don’t remember the name but Echo had – ”

Crosshair jolted upwards, joints protesting.

“Where is Echo?”

“He’s – ”

“Is he on the ship?” Crosshair began to move forward but Hunter stopped him with firm palms.

“What’s gotten into you, Cross?”

“I need to – ”

“Settle down, Echo isn’t here, he’s on Teth, waiting for us.”

Crosshair’s heart was racing, mouth going dry. His eyes darted past Hunter, trying to assess his options – whatever way yielded the fastest results. As if reading his mind, Hunter started more gently. “We’re nearing Teth. You’ll see Echo soon.”

“It’s not – ” the snark had returned as the initial panic subsided. He glared down at his brother. “How soon?”

“Not long…I’ll have to ask Tech the exact time if you really want to know…”

“I do.”

Hunter stared, brows pulled together.

“You going to tell me more about…this?” Hunter’s gaze swept over him, like every inch of him no longer made sense.

Crosshair narrowed his eyes, arms slowly folding in on themselves.

“No.”

Hunter was visibly dissatisfied but didn’t press further. The hyperspace around them felt too big, the engines too slow. Crosshair needed to be on Teth, now.

Crosshair had already broken four toothpicks by the time they landed. His stomach was nearly in his throat as they descended into the atmosphere. His impatience drew him to the entrance of the cockpit, but a low-horizon sunset blinded their view. He garnered a few cursory glances from the Batch, but the unspoken tension between him and his brothers fortified the silence.

As he walked away he caught Hunter grumbling to Wrecker, “I wonder what clone has gotten Crosshair so eager.”

He shoved a fifth toothpick to stave off the flush he felt threatening his cheeks. They were conspiring about him, trying to piece together the bits of info Echo had mentioned with any official “sources” Tech had found. Thankfully, his insubordination was not easily procurable for the public. If Mayday was truly alive…Crosshair didn’t want to explain any of it to his brothers. He knew they’d be relentless with their teasings. Perhaps he should’ve stayed on Tantiss.

When the shuttle ramp hissed open, he wished they were wearing their helmets. He gripped it tightly at his side tight to hide the trembling, and to distract the urge of pushing past Hunter to find him.

“They don’t look happy to see us,” Wrecker noted as the clones moved forward. The air was thin and cold from the high altitude. Crosshair’s head had already felt light, but now it felt ready to ascend to the sky. When was the last time he had breathed?

Pleasantries were bypassed as a clone with shaved sides and familiar scarring immediately stormed towards them, overtaking Captain Rex’s lead. His eyes bore into Crosshair, already screaming with a rage that he could taste. It was a fury he had encountered on every mission for the Empire.

The clone coiling up for a punch was Captain Howzer.

“You!” He shouted, finger unwavering like a trained blaster. “I have unfinished business with you.”

“Easy, Howzer,” Rex started but the prickly clone was just getting started.

“Surprised to see me? Most of my squad from Ryloth is dead because of you.”

Hunter attempted to intervene. “Crosshair was just – ”

“Following orders? Because that makes it any better? Don’t think I’m not upset at you either, Hunter, nor the rest of your squad for taking back this snake. You should’ve heard how he talked about you on Ryloth, how eager he was to lure you in like tookas to a slaughter for his precious Empire.”

“You too were serving the Emp – ” Crosshair began but it only made Howzer shout louder.

“I freed them – we are nothing alike!”

“And what did you do to your Jedi?” Crosshair struck back. Tech and Hunter were crowding forward, trying to protect Crosshair from being torn from his limbs while Rex pushed back Howzer who kept bucking forward. The captain’s veins were visible like goosebumps – anger raised to the surface.

“You can go straight to – ”

“Enough!” a voice shouted from the back of Rex’s crew. White armor parted the electrified crowd like a calming current.

“We’re all on the same side now, whether you like it or not, Howzer.”

Crosshair’s knees nearly buckled. He kept blinking, expecting the phantom before him to dissipate, just as it had during those terrible nights on Tantiss. It couldn’t be.

Mayday – alive.

Howzer, whose wrath had unfurled like an untempered hound, finally broke eye contact with Crosshair. His chest heaved as he looked at Mayday.

“You keep insisting we can trust him, but I don’t see how.”

“Do you trust me?” That voice – confidence in a slow tempo. He disarmed Howzer just as he had the pressure mine under Crosshair on Barton IV – with grace and patience. Howzer threw one more glare at Crosshair, an unsaid threat of unfinished business, before retreating. Mayday, Rex, and Hunter all silently acknowledged each other before the belated welcomes unfolded.

All of Crosshair’s senses turned to static. His skin felt numb. His mouth was dry and the air felt lifeless. He couldn’t hear what his brothers were saying. It was as if he were standing in a long, dark tunnel and at the end of it was Mayday’s face – creased and smiling, beard soft and weathered.

“It’s good to see you,” Mayday’s voice came from far away.

Crosshair didn’t know what to say, he tried to search for words but every thought was blurry.

“Mmhmm,” his throat contracted.

“You know each other?” Omega excitedly looked between the two.

Mayday’s hand moved – it fell to his side. Crosshair realized the clone had been holding it out for him but he’d been too stunned to notice. The neglect scuffed Mayday’s tone.

“We um,” Mayday coughed, “yes, we know each other from a previous mission.”

“What mission?” Omega pressed, even Batcher was wagging her tail, being swept up in the anticipation of a new story. Crosshair was still in shock, his silence deafening. Discomfort had found its way into Mayday’s demeanor.

“Just a supply run.”

Every memory of that day flashed behind Crosshair’s eyes. The lined up helmets. The winged beast. The avalanche. Two bodies huddled close, hypothermia pressing in on them…

Omega opened her mouth to ask more but Rex signaled to the group of clones to head inside. As the crowd moved, the Batch surrounded Crosshair and Mayday…was gone.

Panic swelled in Crosshair’s seemingly waterlogged system. This wasn’t how he had imagined it – countless scenarios he had played on the off chance they would have found each other again, only for reality to be a non-verbal acknowledgement and a withdrawn Mayday. What the hell is wrong with me? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“What was that about?” Wrecker’s large pauldron nudged him.

“Nothing,” he hissed.

“Crosshair seemed to have made acquaintances while serving the Empire,” Tech said, typing away at his data pad.

“Who was that?” Hunter asked.

“Nobody im – ” Crosshair began, but Tech was ready.

“CC-1325, referred to as ‘Mayday’, who served as the commander of the – ”

“What’s it to you?” Crosshair cut in.

“He’s a reg!” Wrecker said, loud enough that Rex’s group looked wearily behind at them. “And you hate regs!”

Echo, between the group glanced back. “Sounds like the Empire softened him up.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Echo.”

“Echo, was that the clone you said liked Crosshair? The one who said you could trust him?” Omega asked, skipping forward to hold the clone’s scomp. Echo smiled, knowing his answer would irk Crosshair to the ends of the planet.

“Oh yes, he’s the reg that said he owed his life to Crosshair, if you can believe it. Kept insisting that we could trust him, and that he was worth saving.”

The entire Batch looked at Crosshair, who had no choice but to shove his helmet on to stop them from reading him. None of them could suppress their grins, or wiggling their eyebrows at each other. Crosshair wanted to blast them all into orbit.

Rex’s “base” was a moody thrown-together medley of equipment and stations. Curious clones peered at them from behind holo desks and data pads as they walked by. Crosshair hadn’t expected so many rescues. He had thought most defected clones were either killed or on Tantiss. After the brief tour, he peeled off from the group, finding a quiet alcove to brood. The confrontation with Howzer had been bad enough, Mayday had been the final straw. He needed to lick his wounds.

Feeble hands held his shaven head, heavy from the disarray. What had he expected? All sins forgiven? Attitudes that had conveniently moved on? I was a good soldier… Regret was the only thing the Empire had rewarded him with. His brothers would make sure to never let him forget.

His fingers fell into the familiar indents on the right side of his head. Gloves traced the edges, pushed at the centers – reassuring movements that had become habit on Tantiss. He’d always wondered why that engine blast didn’t kill him on Bracca. It was starting to feel like every clone here wished it had.

A large blue nose sniffed aggressively nearby.

“Not now, Batcher,” Crosshair growled, attempting to push the hound but she was only encouraged by his moving limbs, nuzzling into his side.

“There you are!” Omega, like a shadow drew close, crouching beside him.

“Leave me alone,” he said, turning to the wall.

“You should join the others.”

“They don’t want me.”

“They’re…learning to trust you again, and hiding away like this isn’t helping.”

Crosshair chewed at his cheek. She was right. He wished in all the nine hells that she wasn’t, but he knew his shaky reputation was already cementing into something bad. Tilting slightly, he caught Omega shaking her head – probably warding off a worried Hunter.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, his shoulders pulling in tighter. “If information on Tantiss is what they want, I can write up a report.”

“They want to talk.”

“No they don’t.” Howzer’s furious expression kept replaying in his mind.

“You should talk to Mayday.”

His breath caught.

“Why?”

“I think…after what you both went through, that it would help – ”

Crosshair rolled over, eyebrows pinched.

“What do you know about what we went through?”

Omega’s eyes batted, cheeks reddening. A pit erupted in his stomach. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t – ” she blurted but then quickly recentered herself. “We may have talked to Mayday…a little bit.”

Crosshair groaned, fingers massaging at his temples.

“I think it’s sweet, how you almost died in each other’s arms,” she added with a smile.

“We weren’t in each other’s arms, we had just survived an avalanche and – ”

“Mayday’s only alive because of you,” Omega cut in. “He’s a good man, everyone likes him, especially Hunter.”

“For fucks sake,” Crosshair was sitting up now, beyond mortified imagining just how this exchange had gone between the Batch and Mayday. “Where is he?”

“In the cafeteria, but I’ll make sure no one else is there so you two can have some privacy.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “We don’t need privacy.”

Her lips quirked to one side. “And you say Wrecker is the bad liar.”

Mayday didn’t look up from where he sat alone in the dimly lit room. Crosshair’s right hand was twitching to the beat of his pounding heart. A broad back faced him, making it harder to know what exactly he was walking into. Light on his long feet, he hovered out of sight.

Crosshair had no plan of what to say, so he stated the only thing that came to his static mind. “I hear you talked with Clone Force Ninety-Nine.”

“Your squad? Yeah, I did.”

Crosshair flinched at the inflection of squad – he should’ve known better that the commander disliked formalities. He didn’t believe in CT numbers.

“We only just recently reunited,” Crosshair defended. There was still too much tension and history between his brothers to comfortably call them his squad again.

“Quite a stunt you pulled, by the sound of it.”

“Not my best work, but we survived.”

The conversation went stale. I’m only making things worse. Crosshair chewed on his lips and began to back away. How foolish he’d thought that he was in any state to converse with –

“Stay, sit,” the command was soft. A high pitch scuff sounded from his boot abruptly stopping. Crosshair kept a steely expression as he sat on the bench across from Mayday, attempting to treat this like a summons to Rampart’s office.

No eye contact.

The silence between them was already uncomfortable; each passing second building a storm charged enough that any sound would be lightning. Crosshair’s mind was a deluge – starting a conversation felt like striking a lighter in a downpour, his thoughts too soaked to catch.

Mayday broke the stillness like lightning. “Why come back?”

You. The truth hit him like a squall. I wanted you to be alive. I wanted us to be free. I wanted us to be… He closed his eyes to hide it away, to put it all away.

“I…” nothing else came out.

“I get it’s complicated. I got that much out of talking with your squad. But we’re still brothers. We can’t let the Empire take that from us.”

Mayday spoke with a commander’s conviction. It had a way of unraveling Crosshair. His eyes dragged upward until he met Mayday’s, where a familiar warmth enveloped him.

“I…” Crosshair tried again, but his throat clenched. Mayday held his gaze, unblinking, with a certainty that spoke volumes of unspoken reassurances, and in that moment, all at once, Crosshair felt a tug at his heart – he was home. “I…thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire. I’ve…done things. I’ve made mistakes. I’m not sure they’ll forgive me.”

“Do you forgive yourself?”

Crosshair looked away, shame burning at his cheeks. Kamino. Ryloth. Desix. Countless missions and recurring betrayals. A hand pushed forward on the table, attempting to ward away the dark spirals that began to devour him.

“We were all trying to be good soldiers. The Empire doesn’t let you forgive. Out here – freedom? It’s the only way we can move forward, and hope for a better day.”

A lurch of emotion tightened his throat and stung his eyes. Hope.

“I…” he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I had hoped…for so long, on Tantiss that you had…” Sweat erupted under his armor as the words tumbled out.

“That I had survived?”

Their eyes met again. Crosshair nodded ever so slightly, his spine gone rigid.

A small smile crept across Mayday’s face. “I did as well. I was certain they wouldn’t let you live after…what you did. When Echo made the connection that you were still alive, I couldn’t believe it.”

“You weren’t on Tantiss?”

Mayday shook his head. “No, I was detained separately for a while, but I was on my way, along with Howzer.” Mayday noticed Crosshair’s twinge at the name and continued. “I know you two have…history. But it seems like that was before our time on Barton IV. I have to believe that what I saw was the real…”

“The real me?”

“Yes.”

Crosshair drew in a breath, arms crossing against his pounding chest.

“Not sure I entirely know the real me.”

“You don’t have to, at least, not immediately. You’ve got a chance here to figure it out,” Mayday looked over across the way where other clones milled about the data stations. “These other clones? They don’t understand what we went through. Your squad is still baffled you turned, but I’m not.”

“What makes you so certain?”

Mayday let out a long sigh, hands turning over as he said, “I just know.”

Crosshair’s shoulders dropped a little, the kindness turning all of his insides soft. Mayday had a way of knocking down his walls, retiring his guard with a tenderness he was never granted elsewhere.

“I’m sorry about…your squad,” the sympathy delivered in a whisper.

Mayday studied the table. When his eyes returned, they were glossy.

“Thank you. I hope someday to return and properly pay my respects.”

”If you don’t want to make the trip alone…” Crosshair started but stopped himself, panicked that he was overstepping. But Mayday was only smiling. The hand on the table closed the distance, and reached for his forearm.

“I never got to thank you for saving me, back at the outpost.”

Crosshair swallowed, eyes wide.

Mayday’s voice, still weathered with age, felt like velvet. “You protected me, even if I was ‘dead weight’,” they both chuckled at the reference, “and here, I can protect you. I trust you in ways they aren’t ready to. We’re facing a different storm out here, one of uncertainty and hardship.”

“Sounds familiar,” Crosshair managed to say, the warmth of Mayday’s hand traveled to his face, undoing every invisible clasp of the mask he had been wearing.

Mayday gave him a squeeze. “If I can survive an avalanche with you, I think I can survive anything.”

For the first time in a long time, Crosshair broke into a genuine smile. It was all Mayday needed to know.

Life on base was a cadence Crosshair never thought he’d have – three consistent meals, sunlight breaks with Batcher, and moments of rest. He became Mayday’s shadow, pulled in by the only gravity that trusted him. Hunter was the first to notice.

“Why are you not bunking with us?” The shorter clone asked while they were both out catching some high altitude air. The forests of Teth stretched endlessly to the horizon.

“Wrecker’s snoring,” Crosshair easily lied.

“Didn’t bother you back on Kamino.”

“Like I had a choice,” Crosshair sneered, leaning his elbows against the stony ledge that ran along the balcony.

“I get that you shared a dangerous mission with Mayday, but why are you following him around like a lost akk dog?”

“Maybe because he trusts me.”

“And you think we don’t?”

Crosshair shot Hunter a critical look.

“Look, Omega seems to trust you, and that’s enough for us. So what else about this Mayday that makes him so special?”

“Jealous now, Hunter?”

The sergeant looked away, curly hair blowing in the breeze.

“Not jealous, just curious. Never thought you as one to get close to a reg.”

Crosshair sighed. He could toy with Hunter all day, but perhaps a sprinkle of honesty would stop him from riding his ass. “Mayday’s…different. He sees me for who I am.”

Hunter was peering at him curiously now.

“I never heard anyone talk about you so positively, that’s for sure.”

“What do you think of him?” Crosshair asked, trying to keep his tone flat.

“He’s a good man. Easy-going, honest. He’s been dealt harder things than most clones had to face during and after the war. I see why he’s a commander.”

Crosshair didn’t know why the praise buzzed his chest. He already admired everything about Mayday, but hearing others voice their respect only intensified the feelings.

Hunter gave a sideways glance to Crosshair. “I see why he’s good for you.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, flicking his toothpick over the cliff. It was true that he’d been sharing a room with the commander. Not a bunk, but just the space. He hadn’t felt ready to be around the Batch like nothing had happened.

Howzer had been quick to interrogate Crosshair. He had insisted to question him alone, but it hadn’t taken long for their interaction to deteriorate into a shouting match, resulting in Captain Rex rushing in to play referee.

One night, Crosshair was plagued by Tantiss nightmares again. Relentless, vivid torture that had been so gruesome he had woken up to his own screams. Mayday had rushed to his side, his large frame another blanket to quiet the tremors.

“You’re safe now,” he kept repeating, soft hair against Crosshair’s clammy skin.

“I’m sorry I – ”

“Shh, no apologizing,” Mayday had whispered. “They tried to break you, but I’m here now. I won’t let them.”

Mayday’s weight and warmth grounded him. The next night, as they got ready for bed, Crosshair lingered beside the commander’s bunk. The clone noticed the quiet solicitation.

“Want to share?”

“May I?” Crosshair didn’t mean to stammer. “It’s just…the nightmares, they…”

“Say no more.”

That’s when it started – the need for touch. Crosshair found himself seeking out Mayday’s hand, holding it whenever they were in close proximity. It felt so normal, felt so right. The first time they joined a strategy meeting, hands clasped, Wrecker couldn’t stop smiling. The other clones quickly picked up on their dynamic. Crosshair clocked dozens of glances, smiles, and whispers alike.

One early morning, during a routine run alongside the eastern ridge, the Batch finally addressed the rancor in the room.

“Have you kissed him yet?” Wrecker teased from the back. Crosshair was so distracted by the question he missed a protruding root and tripped into the dirt. The group stopped, gathering around the accident.

“Wrecker! Wrong time!” Hunter snapped as Tech helped up his fallen brother.

“What? I know everyone was thinkin it!”

“Whatever relationships or romantic gestures Crosshair decides to do is of his own business,” Tech defended.

“Aw, not you too. I thought we were a squad that could share our feelings and stuff,” Wrecker whined.

“We are!” Omega pipped. “I think it’s cute that Crosshair has a boyfriend.”

“He is not my boyfriend!” Crosshair choked.

Tech adjusted his glasses. “He is not?”

“He’s just a bed warmer, right?” Echo teased.

“Not that,” Crosshair brushed the dirt off his clothing.

“Then what are you?” Wrecker asked, the other clones matching his expectant expression.

“He’s…” Crosshair struggled finding a benign enough label to get them to abandon the subject entirely. “He’s…a good friend.”

“With benefits?” Echo added with a smirk.

“What kind of benefits?” Omega asked, looking between the two, eyes wide with confusion.

Hunter interjected before anyone could make more suggestive comments. “How about we keep running, and we stop talking about Mayday and Crosshair?”

“For once, I agree with you,” Crosshair said, shooting Echo a glare. As they started back up their exercise, Tech jogged next to Crosshair, data pad out.

“So, just to ensure my logs are correct, you are not in a sexual relationship with Mayday?”

“Fucking hells Tech, why are you needing to log that? What’s it to you?” Crosshair hissed.

“Now that we are part of Captain Rex’s operation, in the event that any sabotage were to occur, I am tracking actions, relationships, and motives across all clones on the base.”

“Sounds like someone is bored,” Crosshair retorted.

Crosshair may have dodged Wrecker’s question, but it had burrowed inside of him. Have you kissed Mayday yet? Their bodies had grown used to cuddling at night, nothing more. The nightmares had eased. He wasn’t sure if he wanted more. All he knew was that for the first time in a long time, perhaps in all time, he felt safe. Kamino had been destroyed, but he was home. Barton IV had entwined their fates. We both survived for a reason.

The next day, Mayday and Crosshair paired up to help load the Remora for Captain Rex’s rendezvous with Senator Chuchi. He would be taking a team of clones to serve as security for a critical meeting with a former Separatist politician.

“Not going?” Crosshair asked, grabbing two rifles.

“No, not sure I’m ready to go off-planet yet. Besides, who would watch over you?” Mayday’s eyes twinkled from the jest.

“I don’t need watching over,” Crosshair scoffed.

“What do you need?”

Crosshair kept silent as he pondered, heaving a few crates into the cargo bay. He hadn’t given much thought to the future, his focus only given to the day at hand.

“Not sure,” he eventually mumbled, as Mayday helped secure the crates to the wall.

Heading back down the ramp, Mayday paused, staring at the sunset that began to bleed vibrantly.

“What I want is to eventually see the galaxy, and actually see it,” Mayday reflected.

Crosshair looked at the sunset but all he could see was Mayday — picturing him shooting across the galaxy exploring planets and systems, gathering stories instead of kills.

“And what do you need?” Crosshair blurted.

Mayday smiled, the light bathing him in gold.

“Already got it.”

Crosshair’s cheeks flushed as every word escaped him. He edged next to Mayday, the clones watching the crimson skyline.

“Would you come with me?” Mayday asked, voice gentle.

Crosshair didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

”I’d like that,” Mayday said, before his lips lightly kissed Crosshair’s cheek. A flame engulfed him, desire and certainty searing his heart.