Fic: so much (for) stardust
Read on Ao3
Author: @akingnotaprincess
Fandom: Star Wars Bad Batch
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Crosshair/Tech, background polybatch
WC: 22,675
Notes: Written for @huntressdarkness for the 2025 round of Fandom5K. This fic is complete!
Summary: Crosshair is grieving the loss of one of his partners. He has to learn to navigate a life without Tech, and try to come to terms with the fact that he never told Tech the true depth of his feelings.
CX-2 is a good soldier for the Galactic Empire, but recently he keeps getting flashes of his former life. At the same time, he's become obsessed with the prisoner, CT-9904.
Snippet:
CT-9904 lays on his cot—unmoving, but with the rate of his breathing—the rise and fall of his chest—CX-2 knows that the clone is fully awake. After fifty seconds, CT-9904 sighs with great irritation. "Omega. I told you to go."
"Is Omega the girl?"
The clone bolts up out of his cot, standing to his full height, his eyes wide but within seconds he is glaring at him—staring him down. The clone rushes to the bars, fingers curling around the iron with a deadly grip. "What have you done to her?"
CX-2 stands there, unmoving, his hands behind his back. This clone is so different from all the others he has ever encountered. CT-9904 doesn't flinch at the sight of an X Trooper. After all the Advanced Science Division has thrown at him, here he is, still ready for a fight, not knocked down and practically lifeless like all the others. CT-9904 has captured his mind, his thoughts circle around and around this particular clone. He can see why now. This clone… he's drawn to him. CT-9904 is defective, and is perfect.
"I haven't done anything to her. I follow my orders and my objective is not her." CX-2 steps forward casually, slowly. "I have made you my personal objective." He gives the clone a few seconds to reply, and when he does not, he continues. "Tell me, CT-9904. Who are you?"
"What?"
Unseen to CT-9904, behind his helmet, CX-2 frowns, his mouth a thin line. "Did you not hear me? Or not understand my words? Perhaps with all the tests your hearing has become flawed. I said, who are you?" He makes sure to enunciate each word so it has more impact and could get through to the other clone.
Silence is all that fills the air to CX-2's immense annoyance. He asked a question and by etiquette, there should be an answer given. But CT-9904 does not seem one for etiquette. CX-2 hmphs. He doesn't have much time until he is due back at the cryo chambers to be frozen in stasis once more until he is called upon. He needs these answers now.
"You're quite an intriguing specimen, CT-9904."
The other clone still stays silent. CX-2 has trouble with silence; it is one of his few faults. He deals with it on missions, he's able to cope. He is granted a datapad, and own ship that he's able to modify and maintain. It's when he is not on a mission that it grates on his nerves. His datapad and ship are unavailable. He does not have long periods of time between each mission when these comfort items are taken away, and he is forced to stay inside his mind.
He holds back a growl—needing to keep his composure in front of this clone. He will not appear weak in front of him. CX-2 tilts his head from one side and to the other. "You're a quiet one, aren't you? It must be part of your conditioning. It must be in your nature as the sniper to remain silent. That's good. Operatives should talk as little as possible. Do the job, and that's all."
"You must be a shitty operative then," CT-9904 snarls, dripping with sarcasm. "All you do is talk."
CX-2 chuckles. "I'm quiet when it is needed. Now, I want to talk." He takes one step forward—closing the gap between them. "To you, specifically."
"Oh, really? Should I feel special?"
CX-2 states plainly, "Yes. I've never taken any interest in any other clone before."
"Lucky me."
CX-2 hums in agreement. "Who are you, CT-9904?"
"Who are you?" the clone parrots back. "Do you even remember?"
Surely, this is meant to get a rise out of him, however, it does not. CX-2 continues speaking as if he hadn't heard the question. "You're an enigma. Why does your mere existence fascinate me?" He steps forward again and is surprised that this clone does not back away—other clones on the base would—not this one.
CT-9904 leers. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I do not know," he answers truthfully, stepping forward until the only space between them is the iron bars of the cell.
The two of them are inches apart, only the bars separate them. CT-9904's fingers are still curled around the rods. CX-2 stares at those long fingers—and unconsciously reaches out. His gloved finger tips brush against CT-9904's bare knuckles. To his amazement, the clone doesn't back away, he doesn't flinch, he doesn't demand that he leave. CT-9904 stays still. His amber eyes darting between their fingers and to CX-2's helmeted face. CX-2's eyes widened—his breath quickens. The touch feels electric even though he knows that is utter nonsense. The leather of his glove creaks as he covers CT-9904's hand—the clone's fingers are still curled around the bars of his cell, but CX-2 still laces their fingers together as best as he can. He observes CT-9904 is having similar effects as he from this mere touch.
"This fascination I have of you is not an acceptable variable," CX-2 whispers, aware that his whisper probably sounds like less of a whisper with the voice modulator. "You're not supposed to be my mission, yet here I am."
