The little kitten had almost compromised their mission, following Crosshair of all people around like a lost… well, kitten.
He had thought he had been rid of the thing when they finally boarded the Marauder, unfolding his bunk from the wall and collapsing with a sigh as he cleaned his rifle.
Only, when he went to reaffix the sight after scrubbing the fastening for it free of carbon scoring and dust, it wasn’t were he left it. This in and out of itself was unusual, he was very meticulous about where he put the parts of his sniper.
Perhaps Wrecker was playing a joke on him again? He could hear it now.
“Oh come on, Cross. Surely you’re just as good without your sight.”
But the friendly giant hadn’t been in the room. Crosshair shuffles off his bunk to look for the missing piece, which is how the others found him nearly an hour later.
“What are you doing, Crosshair?” Wrecker’s voice is missing the giddy smugness it usually drips with when he did something to annoy Crosshair.
“‘Lost my scope when I was cleaning my rifle.” He grunts, his skinny tailbone digging into the floor as he contorts his lanky frame to look into a crevice by the refresher on the ship.
“Uh, Cross, it’s on your bunk. With your… little friend.” Hunter’s smokey rasp caught Crosshair’s attention.
The tiny thing, and it really was tiny, he could easily hold it with one hand, had crawled up onto his pillow, the sight for his rifle being batted between it's paws despite being larger than the kitten was.
"You." Crosshair snarled, unfolding himself from his awkward position as he crosses the room to his bunk and snatches the sight from the kitten's paws. "Bah, I'll have to reset it on Kamino."
He scooped the kitten up by the scruff of her neck, sighing as he looked at the pathetic thing, It stats kriffing purring at his touch, and tries to decide what to do with it.
"Cross, you're not spacing a kitten. That's dark, even for you." Hunter said firmly.
"Do you have a better idea? Kaminoans are particular about Vermin." He switches to cradle the tiny thing. "What do they even eat? We have no food, no litter box, no place for them to stay."
Wrecker's huge face lights up as he moves to pet the tiny thing. "She can have some of my rations!" He proclaims. Tech snorts.
"Wrecker, you always finish your rations. And usually eat mine too."
"Well, Scope can have some." Wrecker promised, his eyes wide and begging. "She can sleep with Lula."
"We also could, in theory, remove her waste with ours." Tech chimed in. "She's full grown, a micro breed. They're incredibly smart and loving."
"Scope?" Crosshair asked, looking at Wrecker and ignoring Tech's comments.
"She stole your Scope, her name is scope."
"If you name it, Wrecker, you're gonna get attached." Hunter chastises him. "Cross is right. We gotta get rid of it when we get to Kamino."
And yet, that night, with Scope the Tooka somehow sleeping on Crosshair's chest and purring the whole while, he gets the feeling that Scope isn't going away for a while.
Everything hurt. Crosshair could hardly breathe with how bad everything hurt. Kamino, gone, his brothers, gone, and he could hardly breathe.
Every time he closed his eyes, all he could feel was that sinking sensation. Water rising around him, unable to draw a breath.
Scared to draw breath, for fear of crushing the small ball of fuzz sandwiched between his the top of his breastplate and his collarbone. Crosshair had never been more thankful he had lost weight since joining the empire, the gap in his armor just big enough for what had quickly become His tooka.
Scope's wheezing coughs shook her tiny frame even back aboard the venator that came to rescue him from the destruction of Kamino. He got some odd looks as he walked down to the infirmary, her sodden form laying limp in his hands. He waved down a medic, a shiny clone, who looked him over with confusion.
"I need you to look at her." Cross's voice is raspy and pained, even more so than usual. He could give Hunter's migraine voice a run for it's money, and the sudden memory burns almost as much as the lingering phantom sensation of drowning."
"The tooka." Crosshair gritted out. "I need you to make sure she's ok."
"Yes, sir." The medic, still obviously confused, took Scope from Crosshair. Cross knows he's hovering, but he can't really bring himself to care. The medic seems nervous at Cross's presence, but he set the tooka on an exam table and looked her over, checking her eyes and lungs with careful precision.
"There looks to be minimal amounts of water and irritation to her lungs, just make sure that cough doesn't persist." The medic said, passing Scope back to Crosshair. “Those are quite the scars she has there.”
“She’s always had them.” Crosshair scooped up his kitten, setting her on his shoulder where she instantly started purring. Instinctively, he tipped his head a little to rest against her gently before sitting upright. “Thank you.”
The medic nodded. “You were never here, sir. Have a good day.” He turned back to what he was doing.
Crosshair took the opportunity and left. He stalked to his quarters. They were so much smaller than he was used to. Even on Kamino, he still slept in the room with his brothers, empty as it had been. As he stripped out of his sodden blacks and settled Scope on his pillow, Omega’s words replayed over and over in his head.
Then his burn scars stung as he remembered Tech attempting to roast him alive, his brothers leaving him for dead.
Scope coughed from where he had set her down on his pillow, then sneezed. She shook her furry head and blinked up at him, huge green eyes glittering. Everything ached. His heart especially. He was doing the right thing, right?
He scooped up Scope instead of answering his own question, tucking his knees to his chest and snuggling her.
“You still love me, right?” He whispered, eyes glassy as he stroked her. The empire was willing to destroy everything to get their way, including his kitten. “Despite everything?” Her toys, food, everything had been destroyed with Kamino. Every little scrap of money he got and gave to her…
Scope licked his cheek. Crosshair’s face crumpled. His burn scars ached, but he was alive. He hadn’t drowned. And neither had Scope. These rooms were too small… too empty. Before he knew what he was doing he fished out his commlink and dialed a number.
“Hunter I said I wanted to-“
“Quiet, Omega. Who is this?”
Crosshair took a deep breath, Scope nuzzled into his shoulder. Four words. Four simple words.
titsay
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
izzy806
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
