Chapter Text
Echo's words faded in Omega's memory as she focused on the ideas that had sprung into her mind. Planted there during the conversation, yes; but definitely her own. Perhaps she had always known...and hadn't wanted to see it...?
She missed Wrecker's cheerful greeting and didn't see the thoughtful concern that creased across his forehead.
Echo left, saying something about finding Tech in what she caught from his words.
Guilt wriggled in her stomach, and she started hopping from one foot to the other, squeezing her hands to her middle in an attempt to relieve the discomfort. What if she had made a mistake in forcing Crosshair to come with them? And what if...him being with them...was...bad?
The weight in her chest swelled like a lead balloon and she squeezed her stomach harder.
"Omega?"
"Hunter!" Omega jumped forward and threw her arms around him, smashing her face into his cuirass.
She could feel Hunter's surprise, but turned her face harder against him, not caring what he thought. It was the only thing she could think of that might alleviate the terrible things she'd just realized.
"Omega!" said Hunter again, patting her shoulder. "I'm glad to see you, too, kid."
Omega didn't let go.
Hunter shifted. "'Kay, I've got something for you. Let up, now!" he laughed.
Omega finally released him and stepped back, rubbing her hair about and wishing she could hug him again until everything overwhelming and bad went away.
Hunter tossed a package in one hand before shoving it awkwardly towards her. "Got you something," he said.
Curiosity briefly quelled the spiky discomfort, and Omega took the package. It was soft, and the paper crinkled pleasantly around its squishy interior.
Oh.
She ripped it open, flung the paper aside, and grabbed up the contents.
Hunter shifted when she didn't immediately speak, and Wrecker began to crinkle the paper wrapping.
Omega spun on one heel and clutched the dress to herself.
It was beautiful. Soft fabric flowed and swirled as Omega turned, and she couldn't stop staring at the pale, warm lavender of the material.
Without stopping, Omega spun a few more times and dashed off to clamber into her room. She felt completely numb. Swiftly changing out of her old tunic with the worn, torn cuffs, she kicked off her boots, slipped into the new dress and skidded down the ladder in her socks.
Hunter was still waiting in the cockpit, frozen in the exact position she'd left him, with eyebrows raised in mild shock, mouth half smiling, half perplexed, and his eyes free for a moment of the sleeping storm that had first appeared on their leaving Kamino and the wild, desperate waves.
Omega slid to a halt in front of him, and, unable to contain herself, began bouncing.
"Oh, Hunter!" she cried.
Hunter smiled, and Omega stopped bouncing and burst into tears.
She barely heard Hunter's softly startled, "Woah...!" before she charged forward again and squeezed him about the middle as tight as ever she could.
"Omega..."
How could he be so gentle? How could he be hugging her back when he had never done so before, after what she had done? After she had knowingly pushed Tech to return for the very person that had caused Hunter and the others so much trouble and sadness...! She had thought they needed Crosshair, thought he needed them! And if she was wrong, oh how dreadfully bad that would be!
"You-you-you're s-so n-ng-nice!" she gasped, horrified that she was sobbing, but unable to stop.
Hunter pulled back and ducked to smile into her face. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. She knew, and she knew so hard it just made the tears come out all over again.
Wrecker stepped forward after a long moment of Omega continuing to sniffle and Hunter unmoving except for the increasingly stiff pats to her shoulder which were nevertheless a comfort. "Betcha Crosshair would like to see that," he suggested.
He understood... He knew! Wrecker always knew.
Omega stepped back, the numbness slid into guilt again, then she dashed away the tears with a furious scrub, and darted off to the medbay.
He heard her scamper in. Crosshair stared fixedly at his cupped hands, then pressed them to his waist, effectively hiding the holo transmitter from the kid before he looked up -
What was she wearing?
She hung back a little, her eyes flicking about for a moment before fixing on his face.
The corners of his mouth tightened, hesitating on the verge of a frown, but he held his face immobile.
Omega rocked in place, leaning from one socked foot to the other and her hands clasped in front of her as she regarded him with too large eyes and her teeth catching at her lower lip. She'd been crying.
Crosshair let his eyebrows slide into a partial scowl, but in observation rather than annoyance. He couldn't afford to frighten her away. Not this time.
He studied her face a moment longer - and waited.
"What-do-you-think-Crosshair?" Omega blurted.
"What?"
Omega spread her hands out, catching the folds of her skirt in nervous fingers. "What do you think?" And she spun around.
As if Crosshair couldn't see the outfit well enough already. It was unsuitable for anything mission related, with very little practicality put into the design. Knee length skirt with too much material to avoid snagging on something with the way Omega capered about; the sleeves looked beyond uncomfortable with their ridiculous shape and ruffled cuffs, and there was a band at the waist with a senseless bow of all things - the only accent akin to camouflage was the minorly darker hue of the decoration to the lighter toned lavender of the base -
Crosshair stopped himself, aware that he was staring rather stupidly at the dress.
Omega's expectant poise struck an odd chord inside a place he didn't recognize.
It was the only way. The others through the kid. Hunter cared enough to spoil the brat, he might as well use the misplaced affection to spare them all the hell they were headed for. With Rampart...and himself. He despised the decision, the familiar ache of betrayal latching into him where he couldn't reach. But difficult choices had to be made. He was good at that now.
He almost laughed.
To be motivated by lies, manipulated from pretended dependency into dangerous vacillation, then discarded without a second thought -
He hated that he'd been used, and now the only way to fix that was to use another. A child.
The thought choked him, and he felt the emotion strike his face before it could be repressed. He was close. Closer than he'd ever thought he could be. There could be no missing this shot at freedom...for them all...
Omega tipped her head, very much like Tech when he observed things. Then she was moving forward.
Crosshair pulled back from the thoughts, shoved them away and pushed forward. The kid would only put up with so much, and after what he'd learned, he couldn't afford to waste any more time.
Dropping his hands to a more relaxed position, he straightened and tried to regard the monstrosity before him paraded as an outfit with something like curiosity.
Omega twirled again. "Hunter got it for me," she gushed.
Crosshair closed his eyes and looked again. Force, it was hard.
Finally, he noticed the coordinating colors of the dress with Omega's hair and eyes.
"Nice," he said.
Omega grinned. It faded as her eyes flicked downwards, and she reached for his hands.
Crosshair shifted back, startled, but she merely slipped her fingers into his palm and pulled the holo transmitter from his hold.
Keep it cool...keep still...
"I thought I'd lost this," said Omega. "I couldn't find it after I..." Her voice wavered.
"I picked it up a while back," Crosshair explained.
Omega studied the device, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I threw it," she sighed.
Crosshair shrugged. "We've all thrown things."
Omega's eyes glimmered and she jerked her chin downward. "I don't like feeling mad."
This was so out of his depth. He knew she wanted to explain her reasons for being upset, but, Crosshair realized with sinking aversion, he was too overwhelmed as it was. He'd both complimented and conversed with his team's replacement for him in the space of five minutes and it was grating on his nerves. Force help him should she launch into a crying fit.
He shrugged. "It's not my favorite."
Omega looked up at him, eyes penetrating and intense behind the sheen of moisture which had gathered there somewhat quickly, Crosshair noted with rising panic. "Why do you get mad?" she asked, solem and sad as if it where a secret.
"Habit," Crosshair grumbled. "You?"
Omega twisted her fingers around the transmitter. Crosshair held out his hand, palm up.
"I...want to talk about it," said Omega. "Would you...mind?"
Crosshair shook his head once. "Shoot."
"Okay."
Good call, he congratulated himself. The floodgates were closing.
"But...maybe later?" Omega continued, then giggled hesitantly. "You don't look too good."
Crosshair nodded and gestured with his fingers. "I don't feel too good. Now beat it and let me get some rest."
Omega smiled, but her eyes drifted back from alert to intimated.
She reached out and placed the device in his palm, and, crushing an unexplainable sensation of guilt, Crosshair closed his fingers on the transmitter fast enough to catch Omega's before she pulled her hand free. But it directed her gaze to his face. The guilt flared more intensely, but Crosshair shoved through it, and smiled at her.
Now, to secure her focus...
"Thanks for coming to see me," he muttered.
Omega's frown curved into the biggest smile he'd ever seen on anyone in his life. The moisture rushed back into her eyes, and he turned away and pulled himself onto the cot before the frantic guilt overtook his control.
When he turned back, Omega was halfway to the ladder and had started to clamber up before he spoke, halting her in place.
"And maybe switch outfits at some point."
Her puzzled expression was almost too much. Hurt.
Crosshair forced the relaxed smirk back across his mouth. "I can't take you shooting in that."
He jerked his eyebrows at the dress, and Omega squealed with glee and clattered up the ladder, somehow managing to bang the sliding panel behind her.
Crosshair settled back, weary and disturbed. He'd ignored that whispering voice, the word he had applied so often to Hunter and the others in the rare pockets of lucidity during his time under the Empire. Traitor...
Now it was returning, harsher and clearer than before, as if straining to wrap itself around him. And only a faint force was preventing its engilfing him completely.
Crosshair focused on the silence, wating for AZ to return and inform him if the use of the comm code was successful. A heaviness crept up his legs, then down his arms, and he knew he was falling asleep.
He startled awake when the weight of his intended deceit rushed past his defenses, and he sat upright, snarling and irritated. There was nowhere he could turn, he told himself. But the conviction never stayed. And eventually, Crosshair lay down again, unable to rest for the doubts that plagued at his mind.
He was tired. When rested, those thiughts would cease to distract him from the most important mission of his life.
The pathway stretched out before him with a yawning chasm dropping off to either side, and only a narrow perch for a sniper at the end of the road.
And beyond that, who could say?