Take Me Far That Road

Chapter 1 - If You Feel Like Night Is Falling

Author's Note: Most of this fic is from Crosshair's POV. :) Enjoy all the angst and drama of the boys trying to heal and get used to one another again! :D

~ Amina Gila

The room is dark. It's always dark. He's hardly seen bright in – in a long, long time. He's lying on something hard but familiar. Very familiar. The scent is familiar, too.

Consciousness fades in painfully slowly, but he doesn't hurt anywhere anymore. The ceaseless exhaustion is still there, of course, and –

Oh.

Oh, right, he'd finally gotten out. He remembers seeing Hunter's face, feeling Wrecker carry him before he passed out. He's with his brothers now. He's safe here.

Crosshair blinks himself to wakefulness, pulling his eyes open. The lighting is dim, blue and white swirls lighting the back from the windows in the gunner's mount. All the lights are off, thankfully. They remembered that. It's been so long, he thought they'd... forget, which is stupid. They grew up together. He still remembers everything about them, but they – they aren't the ones who got left behind.

Hunter's sitting beside him. He jolts when he sees – or feels, or however that works for him – Crosshair waking, shifting closer and reaching to lay his hand on Crosshair's shoulder. His armor's off again. Tech must've taken it off to scan him or whatever he did. He doesn't remember, but it doesn't matter.

"You missed me?" Crosshair asks, though he has no idea why that's the first thing that slips out.

Hunter makes a quiet, choked noise. His eyes are red. Was he crying? Something sharply uncomfortable cuts through Crosshair's chest. "Hey," he whispers. He touches Crosshair's forehead, hand light and warm and lingering.

Crosshair can't remember the last time someone touched him, unless it was fleeting, or they were going to hurt him. It's been – it's been forever.

Crosshair shifts, trying to prop himself up. Hunter leans forwards to steady him, guiding him upright. It's weird. He doesn't need help, but he doesn't shake it off, because it's been so long since he's had someone touch him. Hunter's arm slips around his shoulders, pulling Crosshair tightly against his chest. Hunter's still in his armor and all, but Crosshair relaxes into him, reaching out to wrap his arms around his waist and clings.

He knows he's being childish, that he's – how old is he? Is he nine or ten now? It feels like it's been forever, but Crosshair has no idea. He's not four though, so he shouldn't be so clingy.

"I'm sorry," Hunter whispers into his hair, "We thought you were gone."

His voice breaks and Crosshair pretends he can't hear that or the shaky inhale – he's definitely crying, and he doesn't want to think about that at all. Hunter doesn't cry. About anything. He's strong – he's not like Crosshair who cries at anything. (He's going to ignore the little voice in his mind wondering if Hunter just hides it better.)

"And you just left?" Crosshair has to ask him, because even if – if he's not exactly angry at them, he can't deny the hurt that's been festering under his skin ever since he first woke up alone. They left him. They don't leave, and it's not until now that he realizes he never thought about why they left. They didn't just ditch him because he was too annoying or too much of a burden or not effective enough or because there was something wrong with him.

They thought he was dead.

Just like the regs did to Echo.

He feels sick. Both with himself, and with what they're living. This shouldn't've happened.