Call It Freedom

Chapter 10 - The Worse It Hurts

Author's Note: Hunter and Crosshair wrestle with their feelings about everything. :') And yes, the angst continues. :D

~ Amina Gila

It's too quiet after Hunter slinks off, for some reason, which seems stupid, since Crosshair had wanted him to leave. He didn't want to listen to the platitudes, the reassurances, the – any of it, actually. But the knowledge that he hurt Hunter deeply enough to make him leave is – it hurts him, too, no matter how he tries to dispel that. And yet, he only spoke the truth, even if it was a truth he hadn't wanted to say.

He can't say what exactly it is about Hunter that's so different, because the answer is everything and nothing. His mannerisms are the same, or they're very similar, and he carries himself similarly, but there's still something so different about him, too. His eyes are duller, more exhausted and resigned. He doesn't quite walk like a soldier anymore. He's so comfortable with the kid, so good with her, and that is jarring in and of itself, because none of them have interacted with children much.

Except Hunter, apparently, has taken to the role very well. Maybe all of them did. Maybe he was the only one left out, because his chip activated, and they left him behind. (They did miss him, didn't they? They would, he wants to think, and yet... he never thought any of them would end up in a position where they had to leave one of their own behind. They don't do that. They just... didn't. They didn't, until they did, apparently.)

And Crosshair hates how, when he looks at Hunter now, he sees a stranger, a stranger who was once his brother, yes, but a stranger, nevertheless. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he didn't know that he never got to see it. He's bitter about that, which is stupid, because he... wouldn't remember it even if he had been there. He's angry at Hunter, which is equally stupid, because none of this is his fault. He didn't choose to come back here, to the past, and he seems more relieved to be here than anything. He's so accepting of – of Crosshair and everything, despite what happened in his own memories.

... Maybe he would find it easier to deal with if Hunter was angry instead of resigned. He's angry that Hunter tried to check on him, angry that Hunter feels guilty about hurting him, angry that Hunter apologized. He knows he shouldn't feel angry, because it's not fair to Hunter, but he can't stop it from burning inside of him, hot and uncomfortable.

He can't imagine being away from his brothers for long; they've always been together, except for a time shortly after the Clone Wars broke out – they were still quite young then, around the kid's age now – and the Kaminoans thought to split them up into separate squads to divide their unique skillsets. It hadn't worked, since they couldn't get along with the regs, but that month has been the singular worst month in Crosshair's life to date. The first night after they were brought back together, they'd silently and mutually decided to pile in the middle of floor, curling together, the warmth and weight of each other's bodies being the one thing to ground them to the knowledge that they were together again.

Crosshair hadn't been able to sleep that night, too afraid that they'd be torn apart again, and at some point, Hunter woke up and realized it, without even having to ask. He'd reached over, in the darkness, slipping his arm past Wrecker, and taken Crosshair's hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing, a silent promise that he was not going anywhere. It wasn't until after that that Crosshair had been able to sleep.

He would never leave his brothers of his own accord, so he doesn't understand why or how any of what Hunter lived through could have happened. How could Hunter really be so uncertain of everything? How could he not know that Crosshair could never walk away? Why would he lose his trust in him so much that he doesn't even trust what they stand for?