Crosshair was so broody as he led her out of Rov's office. He kept his elbow tucked in tight where her fingers were pressed against his side in a way that held her close. Being so near to him made her sigh as she breathed in his scent of gun oil and soot. Her stilted exhale made a little whine as she hobbled.
"This is a terrible idea," grumbled Crosshair as he walked alongside Alanja, escorting her to the brig to see Captain Howzer and his traitors.
"You don't have to like it, friend."
He harrumphed. "You make friends too easily."
"So you've said many times, friend."
Around them, the shinies from Rov's star-destroyer seemed amused by their banter, enthralled with the relationship between Crosshair and Alanja. The clones were all so young, none having seen actual combat; they were still fresh off the line. This batch was even younger than Corsair and his squad back on Kamino.
"Wait here," Alanja bade to Crosshair when they turned onto the final hall of their trek. The irony was not lost on Alanja that Captain Howzer and his men were being held in the very same cells that had imprisoned Cham Syndulla and his sympathizers just last night.
Sneering, Crosshair asked, "Why?"
"We are negotiating," she said quietly, batting her lashes. "I don't need them to see me as weak."
He scowled and didn't immediately obey her command to wait. In fact, he stepped in her way.
Her purr turned into a growl. "Stand aside, soldier, and let me do my job."
"Why are we here?" he demanded, his voice hissing through the mechanics of his helmet. "You don't owe that reg anything." Crosshair sounded oddly jealous in his peculiar way, even if he should know better.
Down the hall stood a dozen more clones in shiny, white armor brought down from Rov's ships. Their black glares watched them, helmets scowling.
Alanja's face stung as she gave Crosshair a smile like he was being quaint. "I am here to see Captain Howzer. You don't have to like it."
Crosshair's black helmet glared with rage. "Turn around, Mesh'la," he ordered her.
Her chest tightened when he called her that. His head tilted, coldly observing how she reacted to the term of endearment. It was meant to control her the way she controlled him. Frustration nipped at her patience when she realized just how much sway that little word had over her. When she moved to step around him, he stepped with her.
"Move aside." Angry, Alanja reached up under the chin of his helmet and yanked him by it. He didn't budge. "I have business to conduct."
"Traitors don't need your sympathy, ambassador."
"Stop being so difficult," she said with a bitter huff.
Crosshair's hot breath seethed over her grip with her fingers curled inside his helmet. It was too calm, too ready to kill, as he replied, "That reg doesn't deserve to see your pretty face. The only thing he deserves to see is the dirt after I pull the trigger at the back of his head."
"You forget your place, CT-9904," she warned and yanked his helmet again; this time, he moved. "We are friends, commander, but you will obey me. Step aside."
"What do you hope to accomplish by going in there? They're all dead men."
"And I am their executioner, not you," she replied, letting her hand slip from his helmet. She turned her back to Crosshair as her eyes threatened to tear up. She had told no one, but it was not Teller that killed Gimbal. Alanja had pulled that trigger. "They must know what they have done."
YOU ARE READING
Ambassador
FanfictionIf you want to read a slow burn about Crosshair, this is for you. It is completely cannon compliant and fun to read if you have seen the first season. It fits into the season as if it was always a part of what was happening. What if Crosshair stays...
