Fractured Fault
Written by @ohheycallmek
Word Count: 7,888
Mando'a Phrase Glossary:
Sarad - Flower
Di'kutla - Useless
Ner kar'ta - My Heart
Vaabir jate'shya - Do Better
Vod - Brother
Summary: Falling fast in the storm, five pairs of arms rise to catch her
Content Warning: Fluff, Slow Burn, Platonic Relationships, Anxiety, PTSD, Overstimulation, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Mutilation, Self-Deprecation
Author's Note: WOW. What began as a one-off passion project became the formation of a fully-fleshed out OC. My intention moving forward is to continue her story in slow-burn segments. This takes place in an alternate universe in which Omega does not exist, but instead, Clone Force 99 comes across a master code-breaker named Alexei (Or LXE16 - her agent name). This story is very Tech/Crosshair - centric, with moments of the others in between. I added a bit of Mando'a, so if any of it is incorrectly translated…Maker, don't hate me, blame Google lol. I can't wait to share more of her with you all!
[I'm working on a post that goes into quick facts, relationships, and a backstory, so please stay tuned!]
I hope you enjoy! xx
☆ Page Dividers by @cafekitsune & @moosgraphics ☆
Alexei knew it was just over the horizon. The curdle of a wave beginning to plunder on an otherwise soundless shore. Without delay and without warning, it would make itself known to her. It would come in the form of an incorrect instruction given during a briefing that would cost them time and resources, a frayed wire noticed in the midst of an almost complete repair, or the appearance of a single misplaced sock in the laundry bin. It was all a matter of when…and who would be there when her body would finally collapse in on itself like it was demolition day.
The Marauder was practically silent upon her waking, aside from the gentle moan of the engine manually pulling the vehicle through the vastness of hyperspace. Alexei's bare feet hit the durasteel with a dull slap as she climbed out of her bunk and made her way to the kitchenette. Tech was already seated at the small island in the center, a steaming cup of caf between his glove-less hands.
“Good morning, Alexei.” He nodded curtly, pulling his goggles off and rubbing residue from the lenses with the hem of his top.
Alexei's smile was short and already waning, her voice climbing out like it had burrowed somewhere deep inside of her, “Uhm-hghm,” She cleared the rasp from her throat, “G’morning, Tech.”
Tech's thumb came to trace around the rim of his drink, his other casually wiping a crust from the corner of his eye, “I did not expect you to wake so early. You are usually the last one up, seeing as you prefer your late evenings to run infiltration routes.” He gestured to the caf-maker, “Had I known, I would have prepared a cup for you as well.”
Alexei tightened her lips, giving a soft grunt of acknowledgement as her hands haphazardly searched the fridge for Bantha milk. Her hand found it secluded to the back of the ice box, but when she pulled it out and inspected its contents, she found that it was much lighter than she remembered it being the morning prior.
Empty. Save for a single, pathetic slosh. Her eyelid did a subtle twitch.
“Dank farrick," Then sharper, “Wrecker!”
Alexei slammed the carton into the receptacle, the cardboard practically rejecting out of it with the force of her throw.
“I hate that he always does this! Drinking from the damn carton and leaving a spit left like it's a little gift!”
Behind her, Tech’s brow knit with partial concern and his mind sought a response but came up empty-handed.
A bunk curtain flung open behind them followed by the smooth thump of socked feet hitting the floorboards. Crosshair appeared, shirtless and smirking like the universe had already handed him a one-off joke. He arrived just in time to deliver the punchline.
“Well, well, starshine," He drawled, voice bright, arms stretching overhead with theatrical nonchalance, “Aren't you cheerful today.”
“Can it, nerf-herder. I am not in the mood.” She redirected her attention to the space that stretched between them.
His discarded shirt slung lazily over the chair across from Tech like it lived there. The carelessness for simple cleanliness and general upkeep of the ship made her skin begin to crawl.
“And stop leaving your dirty kriffing blacks around,” She hissed, throwing the muddled up top in his direction, hitting him square in the chest, “Please.”
Crosshair was used to Alexei’s sharp remarks, welcoming them even, but noting the way in which her eyes seemed to drift elsewhere as the fabric of his shirt slammed him with more force than necessary, he could tell that something was lingering just beneath the surface. He dare not ask. The decision not to push further was an easy one to make in the early morning.
Alexei ignored his presence then, rummaging through the cabinets for something to sweeten her beverage but all efforts were futile. She slammed the cabinet door.
“Whatever. I guess I’ll just have to take it black today.” The words caught in her throat as she began to pour her cup.
Crosshair made his way over, brushing past her to grab a ration bar from the shelf just above her head. The space between them was narrow…too narrow…and his elbow barely slid against hers.
In an instant, the hot caf missed the mug and sent it spewing all over the countertop, creating a river that began to flow down to the floor and onto her bare feet.
“Ah! Dammit-!”
She recoiled, taking a sharp, seething inhale.
Crosshair spun rapidly, blinking as though someone had sent a fist through his gut.
“Kriff…I-...hey,” he said, voice instantly losing its teasing edge, “That wasn’t-...I-...I didn’t mean to do that, Alexei. Are you alright?”
Alexei froze, her breath steaming out from between her teeth in shallow gasps.
“I’m-...fine.” Her voice trembled as she pulled her leg up to inspect the damage on the skin of her toes.
“You’re not,” Crosshair replied quickly, eyes flickering from the mess on the countertop to the control of her clenched jaw. “You’re trembling.”
Tech stood then, eyes surveying the situation before intervening. His tone was calm, but the urgency behind it was unmistakable. Crosshair took a step back, his arms partially raised as if Tech was about to pull the pin out of a grenade.
“You burned yourself. Let me see. I can bacta patch it if-”
“I said I'm fine! Stars, Tech!” She said, wincing away from him.
He placed a steady hand over the hill of her shoulder, his fingers subconsciously tracing a pattern, “-Alright, alright…here…let me assist you for a moment. Go. Sit. You may have the rest of my drink if you would like.”
She shrugged his advance away, the weight of his hand feeling more like a hefty bolder as opposed to comforting manipulation.
She spoke on an exhale, nearly blinking back tears, “No…no, Tech…it's…it's okay. Really. I'll just brew another cup.”
Crosshair shot a hand up, his voice unusually softer, “Let me do it, Alexei. This was my fault.”
She swallowed and nodded curtly, “Thanks, Cross’...”
Tech pulled a pile of disposable clothes from the holder and began to clean up the spill. A noise escaped Crosshair's throat, resembling a growl as he ripped the cloth back and ushered Tech away with a snarled ‘I'll clean it’.
That evening, the squad members assembled for dinner. Alexei sat like a hunched eoipe, prodding at the suspicious-looking meat with the tip of her fork. It wiggled. Her stomach turned, no longer hungry.
Wrecker slid into the bench beside her, practically tipping it over with his enthusiasm. He was grinning widely, double-fisting bread rolls like twin viroblades.
“Hey, ya’ can't still be mad about earlier, can ya’? What's that sayin’? Don't cry over spilled milk?” He chuckled, a large, callused hand slamming down onto Alexei's shoulder like an orbital strike.
Echo cleared his throat, “Wrecker, I would suggest-”
“Oh, come on, ‘Lex! Why the long face? It looks like someone shoved a thermal detonator up your-”
“Wrecker,” Echo warned from across the table, a small snort of laughter escaping his nose.
Wrecker chuckled and nudged Alexei with the point of his elbow, “Ya’ know I'm just teasing, girly.”
Alexei narrowed her gaze, trying but failing to stifle the flare in her brow, “It's…it's fine…about the milk, I mean…I-” A breath, “I've just been…tired.”
Echo leaned forward, a faint smirk playing on the corner of his lips, “Tired, huh? I'm pretty sure you’ve been tired since the day we met you, sarad.”
“She was tired of you the day we met her,” Crosshair noted without missing a beat, lean legs swinging with grace over the bench as he took a seat.
Hunter didn’t look up from the contents on his tray, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him, noting that he was listening in.
Crosshair's quick wit earned a low whistle from Wrecker. “Ooooh, smooth one, Cross’. Are ya’ flirting or looking to get decked, Echo?”
“Echo couldn’t flirt his way out of a wet bag.” Crosshair muttered.
“Excuse your words, vod, many have said I've got charm,” Echo replied, feigning offense with an open palm to his chest, “It’s subtle. Refined.”
“About as subtle as a boots on the ground bombardment."
His trigger finger wasn't Crosshair's only rapid, lethal weapon.
Wrecker's laughter bounced off the walls, reverberating heavily and shaking the table. Tech shuffled his way to Alexei's opposite side, acutely aware of their proximity and being more than overly conscious in an effort not to jostle her as he sat down.
“If we're being truly realistic, we are all tired…of hearing you chew, Wrecker.” Tech retorted, his humor dry as he lobbed a butter packet across the way with a subtle flick of his fingers.
Wrecker halted mid-bite as the condiment popped open against the metalloid surface of his armor. The others held back laughter.
“Hey! No fair!” He barked out, fist against the table.
Tech began to settle his attention on the meticulous organization of his silverware, “Consider that a preemptive warning. No one wants to hear your grotesque gnawing. It is as disruptive as it is deeply unsettling.”
Wrecker smeared the grease away with the side of his thumb, “You're lucky I'm merciful. I could've beamed you with a baguette.”
Moments like these would always fade into routine, but now, cracking a smile might as well have been citrus to an open wound. The back and forth rolled on without Alexei. She looked up slowly, eyes following a path that went beyond time, her voice cutting between the conversation and cacophony of forks.
“Do any of you ever stop talking long enough to realize not every little thing has to be made into a joke?”
Instantaneously, Wrecker’s grin faltered.
Echo’s brow creased, “Hey, we’re just messing around…trying to lighten the mood some..."
Alexei swallowed the pit in her throat, shaking her head as if taken aback by her own words.
“I-...yeah…I-...sorry. That was-...wrong of me.”
The rest of the dinner she sat in silence, and while they spoke around her, the corner of the room cast a shadow where her voice should have been. They noticed her absence.
To her surprise, the tragedy of the caf spill was not the tipping point. Nor the joking that directly followed that evening. It was a slow erosion, the epicenter of it becoming more and more solidified as the layers were peeled back.
The next morning, the holotable cast a pure blue light across the room as the plan regarding their next mission was detailed. Tech began to describe the infiltration route, his tone clipped and efficient, as it always was.
“If we time our entrance to match the patrol rotation here,” he began, sliding his finger along the highlighted path, “We can enter the compound undetected, retrieve the device for Cid, and get out of there safely if Alexei is able to decode the-”
CLANG.
A tool slipped from Tech’s belt and hit the floor with a violent crack, the metallic sounded sharply as it ricocheted.
“Maker!” Alexei jolted upward, a hand clutching something invisible toward her chest.
All heads turned.
She sat in an upright position and her spine lengthened, each column pulled taut. A rose-colored blush began to creep beneath her cheeks, breath caught, eyes widened.
Tech blinked slowly behind his goggles. “Apologies,” he noted, bending to retrieve the wrench, fingering his pocket, “I…hadn't realized there was a hole in this belt.”
Alexei wrenched her reading glasses off and pressed an open palm over her eyes, soothing the headache that was beginning to radiate from her neck to her temples, “Ugh…no…it just…caught me off guard, is all.”
Wrecker raised a brow. Crosshair’s gaze lingered on her, unreadable. Echo shifted in his seat but said nothing. Hunter didn’t look away as he listened to the increased pounding of Alexei's heart from across the room.
Alexei cleared her throat and smoothed her hands over the front of her shirt as if to iron out the moment. “Can we just-...move on?”
Tech hesitated, nodding once before continuing, “Right…as I was saying…”
The hologram resumed its slow rotation, but the tension didn’t ease. Alexei stared straight ahead, her brain attempting to will herself back into composure as her shaking hands fit the lenses over her eyes once more.
But even as she tried to focus, she could feel it…the heavy weight of their eyes, the heat pooling inside of her, and the echo of that damn sound ringing like blaster bullets to her ears.
She wasn’t used to flinching like that.
Not with them.
Hardly ever.
Hunter lingered near the edge of the corridor outside the briefing area as Alexei, Echo, and Wrecker exited. The door had barely slid shut behind them when Hunter’s voice resounded.
“She’s cracking.”
“She’s exhausted,” Tech corrected immediately, forefinger scrolling absently on his datapad, nose dug right into it, “Her threshold for unpredictable stimuli is likely at its limit.”
Crosshair's arms snaked around his torso as he let out a strong huff of breath, back pressing into his chair, knees splayed, “And what, we walk along the broken glass barefoot until she inevitably decides to give us shoes?”
“No,” Tech declared, “We do not treat her like an issue. We adjust in the same way we did upon your return…or when Wrecker couldn't handle loud reverberations immediately following Raxus…this is-...a different kind of injury…with the same need for care.”
Hunter nodded, knowingly, “She'll get better with time. She requires patience to steady out. You know better than any of us what that's like, Crosshair.”
Crosshair's gaze flit between the scarred tips of his fingers and his shirt pocket. He plucked a toothpick out and wrenched it between his already sewn shut jaw. The earthy flavor of balsa against his tongue calmed his nervous system.
“She isn't me…she isn't hiding it well.”
“No,” Hunter said carefully, “But the situations are similar.”
Crosshair stood slowly, shoulders taut, pushing his seat away with the rubber sole of his boot, “I didn’t ask for this comparison, Hunter.”
“We are simply drawing parallels, Crosshair. It’s not the same as comparing your respective plights. It is, however, close enough to deserve consideration.” Tech placed his datapad face down against his lap, looking over at him now.
Crosshair’s eyes narrowed into the floor and then flit away, “Whatever she's hiding, it isn't palpable. You can't just box emotions and send them off like they have structure. They always come back tenfold.”
His own words earned a shift, a flicker of something sharp in his eyes. Not anger…something much colder, almost self-deprecating.
“You can’t fix her.”
Hunter exhaled slowly, arms still folded. “No one said her issues needed fixing.”
Crosshair’s lip curled imperceptibly, “Waiting for her to burst sounds like a Hell of a risk, Hunter…if someone doesn't do something…if she snaps mid-mission-...”
“She won’t,” Tech cut in, suddenly much louder, more defensive, “She’s been holding herself together at a high standard. It is unlikely to get to that point.”
“She’s a loose end…” Crosshair said, quieter this time, “And I know damn well what that looks like.”
The others stared, perhaps waiting for the next pin to drop.
“When people start watching your every move with concern, when every mistake you make gets filed under ‘classified information’, and when no one says it out loud, but they stop trusting you-...”
There was a beat of silence.
“Do you think we stopped trusting you?” Hunter asked, spine hunched, thumbs nervously twiddling.
Crosshair refused to rebuttal. The toothpick cracked between his teeth, audible beneath the constant hum of the ship and the silence that followed his words.
“Assist us in making sure she doesn’t fall down that narrow path of uncertainty.” Tech offered.
The skin on Crosshair’s hands grew pale with the strength of which he curled them.
“It isn't space she needs,” Crosshair growled. “She requires intervention. Immediately.”
“The situation is-...delicate. We can't rush her like we would a hazardous fault in a mission.”
“So what's your idea then?” Crosshair cut in, eyes spliced, “Make her tea? Give her a warm blanket and a holodrama to watch?”
His voice cracked with bitter sarcasm, “That’s no plan. That's wishful thinking.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then he turned away, taking a few steps toward the door, a pit in his stomach the size of twin suns.
“Stars,” he muttered. “You’re all so damn hopeful…”
Then.
“It's "sickening" '
They were on a ration run when the floodgates opened. Nothing about the monotonous chore was innately complicated. A handful of crates required reorganization after restocking and the hangar was loud with transport engines whining in vicious cycles.
Alexei’s shoulders felt as if they had been strung up by wires all morning. Every sound began to overlap another, lingering, echoing in the space between her ears. The overhead fluorescents buzzed like a swarm she couldn’t quite swat away.
She was at war with a crate much wider than her arm span could handle. It wasn't heavy, it was awkward, like it was purposefully being uncooperative to make her look weak. All of a sudden, Echo called her name sharply from across the way.
She bolted upward, eyes widening like sauce pans.
“I said 'watch that crate', Alexei, the corner is caving in!” Echo barked.
“I heard you the first two times!” She snapped, spinning to face him.
“Are ya’ sure ya’ don't need some help, ‘Lex?” Wrecker's voice, ever present and always cheerful, was much louder in the echo of the massive hangar, “I can grab that for ya’!”
She groaned, “Wrecker, no, I'm fine. Why do you always treat me like I'm made of Hoth ice? Stars, I can handle myself!”
A beat of silence.
Then from behind her, a low, muttered voice uttered between the soft, splintering wood of a toothpick.
“...You can't fool us, sweetheart ”
Alexei's pupils blew as she spun around to dig into Crosshair's sloped form leaned lazily against the side of the ship.
“What did you just say?”
Time stopped. His shoulders shrugged to his ears carelessly and wordlessly.
“N-no…no no, you know what you said.” The words tumbled, a half-hearted laugh escaping her throat, bitter with disbelief.
“You heard me.”
“I don't care. Say it again. I dare you.” She pressed, the words beginning to summersault from her lips.
“I said what we've all been thinking,” His voice was rock solid, “You're making a show out of all of this.”
Her blood surged hot and high. “A show? Are you serious?”
“Perhaps if you acted like you were part of this team for once this week, spoke up instead of internalizing, and stopped throwing tantrums like a child-”
“Stars, Cross’...” Echo seethed on an exhale, his hand coming to shield his eyes as if to hide from the explosion that was imminent.
Alexei's fingers curled, joints clicking as they met the force of her palms.
“Tantrums? You think that’s what this is?”
“I think you’re tired, overworked, and Hellbent on proving something no one even asked you to prove. You’re alone, hanging to a spool of thread and pretending it's a strong, structured rope that we all have our hands on,” he sneered, toothpick twitching at the corner of his mouth. “One wrong tug and you’ll bring the whole squad along with you.”
Her breath hitched and she winced back as if his words had grown arms and vollied into her midsection.
He didn’t stop.
“You intend to be useful? Then stop walking around like you're bound to burst. Sooner or later, you’re gonna combust, and when you do… I-...I hope you're standing far away from the rest of us.”
That was it.
The finality of the breakage settled in as Alexei's body began to freeze. Her response became locked in the upper part of her chest. Hunter delicately placed a crate down by his side, making his way to them as if on cue.
He voiced gently but over a massive bridge of uncertainty, “Hey…it’s okay. Let’s just-...let’s reset now. Ignore him, Alexei. It's-…no big deal.”
Suddenly, the empty space around her became a black, swallowing void, closing in from every conceivable angle. Her brain began to fight against itself, the chaos of it was dizzying as a hollow pit formed in her stomach. The bile curdled in her throat, screaming to find a way out. Her heart fled.
Alexei dropped the crate without deliberation, hitting the edge that was near the breaking point, causing it to shatter like transparisteel, and sending ration bars flying through the air. It narrowly missed the front end of her boots in the process. She hardly flinched.
Her hands coiled into her chest, fingers folding like flimsiplast in rain.
“I-...” She began to choke, a hand fluttering to her throat, “I’m-...I need-...I don't-...”
Hunter’s voice was a single notch above a whisper as he took a stride forward.
“Hey, hey…Alexei...sarad, it's-…alright.”
Her body began to autopilot.
“I-...I’m sorry…I-…I have to get out of here.”
She swiftly turned the opposite direction, bolting as quickly as her legs would allow, leaving the mess abandoned.
“Alexei?” Echo kept his voice narrow as Hunter's gaze lingered for a moment, senses buffering.
Wrecker swallowed hard, clasping his hands in front of himself, “Kriff…is-...is she okay?”
“No. No, she's not.” Echo drawled.
Tech's upper lip curled with sincere displeasure, eyes sharpening behind the yellow hue of his goggles. His jeer was direct, unstoppable. A single finger gawked in Crosshair's direction like the twist of a blade to his chest.
“Your commentary was irrelevant and unnecessary. There was positively no need to speak so malevolently to her. We spoke of this. You knew better. Vaabir jate'shya.”
The shame rained down like an unyielding storm on Kamino. Crosshair refused to look to his brothers, finding the pattern on the tiles to be significantly more captivating to the naked eye.
“...Di'kutla.” Echo muttered, head hung low in frustration as he walked away.
Before Hunter could interject, Tech's voice cut in again.
“Allow me to handle this.”
His teeth were knit, already jogging in the path Alexei left behind.
There she sat, wedged behind the storage crates in the corridor, shoulders curling in like melting wax. Her chest rose with panicked, shallow breaths. The walls were beginning to sandwich together like a compactor. Her skin felt too tight against her ribs and the only true escape from the sensation was to fight against herself.
Her fingers dug crescent indentations into her sweating palms, the hills of her knuckles aching as they became taut against the bone. Without delay, she slammed her hands down to her thighs.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The motion was rhythmic but even still the feeling lingered. It wasn't enough. No…not nearly enough. Her next course of action was an open palm against the side of her temple.
It was a sharp, searing pain but she knew what would feel far more rejuvenating. Her fingernails itched, climbing into the crook of her elbow and then creating a route to her forearm. She dug inward, a raw, unadulterated desire to feel something that only she could control.
She scratched long, frantic swipes at her skin. Angry, pink lines began to rise in welts, with some already breaking the surface.
Tech froze and for half a second as he rounded the corner, air refusing to enter his lungs as he peered down at her. Watching her unravel in front of him was like being caught in the very center of a silent, slow motion explosion. It petrified him, rightfully so. Navigating a minefield of emotion was never his forte.
Finally, he moved forward.
He crossed the space in two single strides and dropped to his knees in front of her. A firm hand closed in like a cuff around her wrist, halting her mid-motion.
“Alexei. Enough.” His voice was unmistakably Tech, but his tone was undeniably stronger as the pads of his fingers pressed inward.
She flinched, knowing that he was already rapidly calculating, notating the erratic spike of pressure against her veins. Her wild eyes found his and she immediately fought against the strength of his hold.
“N-no. Let go of me! Let go of me NOW!”
“I said enough,” His other hand gently found her other arm, guiding both of them down to her lap. “I will not allow you to do that. I will not allow you to desecrate yourself. Whatever this is, whatever you are doing, it will not provide a solution to your issue.”
The words landed like gasoline to the fire that had already spread. She continued to struggle.
His voice dipped, lips hardly motioning, “Alexei-...”
His throat cinched.
“Ner kar'ta…look at me.”
He hadn’t planned to say it and he hadn’t even fully understood why the words tumbled out in the first place. He had never spoken like this before. The phrase hung in the air; raw, unguarded.
My heart.
He knew she was unfamiliar with Mando'a but he dared not translate. He dared not break down the fragility of the moment by an over explanation when he knew for certain she wouldn't even ask. He was lucky that the constant pet-names juggled around the squad would always evade her. She was ignorant. Blissfully so.
She scowled, mind spiraling as she spit back, “You don’t understand! You never understand!” She pulled with every sheer ounce of strength, but his grasp remained unbroken.
“I do understand,” Tech continued, his voice taking on a softer, more controlled tone, “But your vitals are indicative of intervention. Your pulse is erratic, elevated to approximately 186 beats per minute. Your respiratory rate is at 28 breaths per minute. This behavior is symptomatic of emotional distress and you risk syncope. You may slip into unconsciousness. Steady your breathing.” His eyes locked onto hers.
She didn’t want to hear it. Without a single warning, she lashed out, pulling free and hitting his chest with a force that felt immediately alien to her.
“Don’t-” Her voice fractured, her head shaking back and forth rapidly as she jabbed a single finger in his face, “Do NOT analyze me like that. You-...”
The first blow was soft, almost uncertain. The second felt more like a threat.
She hit him again.
And then again.
Once she started, she just couldn't quit it. Her fists landed sporadic, uncoordinated blows to his chest, each stronger than the last. They were wild and without rhythm, fighting against him like a caged creature.
He didn’t stop her.
Not right away.
“You always do this!” Her voice was as sharp as an ice pick, trembling with fury, “You break everything down into pieces, like I’m just another problem of yours to be solved. Like data to track. You-...you don’t get it! You never will! I can’t think! I can’t breathe! I-...” Her words fractured, raw emotion spilling out between sobs. “I-...I hate you…I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
The prick of unwelcomed tears threatened his waterline but refused to spill onward as each hit landed like a tidal wave against him. A reflex of emotion pinched his throat but he held his composure as he always did. The intensity running through his mind was foreign. She pushed on, screaming curses to the sky, her words becoming completely indiscernible as the seconds ticked on.
“Alexei.” His voice finally resounded like a command, a plea, stopping her clean in her tracks, “Please.”
With that, she collapsed; a melted heap against his solid frame, her shoulders heaving up and down as she sought solace. She practically barreled through his blacks, Tech letting out a soft “ohmph” as she gripped the sleek silk like a lifeboat. He froze for a breath, arms lifting halfway in partial confusion. His brain fired signals rapidly as he sifted through every potential protocol, every point of recognition he could conjure up.
With no prior experience, his body motioned regardless.
With awkward calculation at first, his arms circled round her stiffly, palms hovering before slowly pressing into her back. He readjusted his body, anchoring closer, one hand shifting to cradle the back of her head and the other bracing her shoulder like a ray shield.
He had never done this before. He had never been this; a harbor, a refuge. None of that mattered now as a silent click of understanding settled deep into his core.
Her pulse rushed like restless wings against his own chest, her breath, hot and alive, tucked beneath his chin, feathering in hills across the skin of his collarbone. This moment was not another experiment to conduct or a hypothesis to prove. She was here, hurting and undeniably real, and every frantic beat of her heart told him the only evidence he'd need.
He swallowed the lump that stuck to the walls of his throat, his fingers slowly reaching up to run through the magenta splays of hair hanging loosely in front of her eyes. The words that left his lips began to flow like a stream, seamless and unending.
“Life will throw punches at us, Alexei, that much is evident. They come at times where we least desire them and they are often far from fair…but in these moments, we do not crumble because we are weak…we crumble because we are human.”
He paused, the steam of breath simmering from the depth of his lungs grounding her further.
“And it is in those moments that we find our true strength.”
Her fingers tugged his top in desperation and the fabric began to stretch. His gloved hands found hers and pulled them away, gently settling her digits in his palms.
“You are not broken. Stars, if ever you believe that you are, allow me to be the one to pick up the pieces.”
For a long moment, there was silence, aside from her hiccuping breaths.
“My-...my chest…it…it hurts…” She whispered finally, “I-...I don't know what happened…I just-...I've-...”
He didn’t rush her. He didn’t interrupt. He just held her with no true intention of letting go unless she did first.
“I keep seeing it, Tech…” Her voice fractured.
His heart stuttered.
He knew.
“That mission on Naboo a handful of cycles ago. When...we got ambushed, I-...
Time held its breath.
“I thought we were all going to die. I watched you...your body…you collapsed…Echo’s scream in my comm, I can still hear it like it was yesterday…Wrecker was turning pale…the blood loss…Hunter and Crosshair were nowhere to be found…I—I couldn’t move. I was stuck. I just…kept staring.”
Tech exhaled slowly, resting the flat of his chin against the top of her head as he pulled her as close as she could physically get.
“But you cannot disregard the fact that it was you who got us out safely. You managed to unscramble the door codes in record time, signal a flare to find Hunter and Crosshair, and conduct a pathway that would allow us to leave entirely unbeknownst to the enemy. You left no stone unturned. You brought us home.”
“But what if I can’t do it next time?” She choked out, her face partially obscured from his chest, “What if-...what if I can't come to? What if we lose someone and it's because of me that it happens…?”
His grip around her shaking form tightened, a steady stream of ample pressure emanating from within.
“We face the worst of the galaxy every day…but your ability to act swiftly in the heat of the moment…that is why you're the strongest of us…Hell, the most intelligent of us, and that sort of sentiment is coming from an individual who is programmed as such…you are a survivor, Alexei...it is because of you that we will never know failure.”
He pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes, the palm of his hand cupping around the curve of her cheek with rare sincerity. Her head tilted right into it.
“And you will not lose me or anyone else, for that matter…not if I have anything to say about it.”
Alexei placed her hand over his, forcing his hold to guide her head back down to his sternum. Her eyes fluttered closed, moisture sticking fast to her lashes as the sound of Tech's fragile heart pulled back any semblance of time. She hadn't accounted for this, for him to be the one to come running when she fled.
“Tech…?” Her voice was a crackled whisper when she finally broke the tension.
“Yes?”
“Why-...why you?”
“Hm?”
She pulled back to find his eyes. They were warmer than she had ever remembered them being.
“Why were you the first to come for me? Why not Hunter? Or Wrecker? Echo, even?”
Tech's fingertips rolled a soothing pattern across her sweat-slicked forehead, it was as if he was mapping her moles like star charts, committing them to memory in case she vanished.
“I came because I was able to calculate your precise location. I deduced that you wouldn’t make it far. I ultimately knew that you longed to be found. You are not…slick.”
Alexei raised a brow, Tech's exhale sounded almost like a laugh.
“That-...was not a comforting observation. My apologies.”
She nodded, “It's alright…I-...” Her voice clipped, “Thank you.”
His eyes glistened as if the subtlety of her gratitude had hit harder than she had intended, his hand stilling against her scalp for a moment.
He cleared his throat accordingly, “You mustn't thank me. You required immediate assistance. I did what was necessary.”
She nodded, exhaustion quickly catching up to her. Tech eased back, the feeling of her in his arms now as natural as breath as his chest became her pillow. Her lids gained a weight of their own, heavy as dusk itself. At last, she slipped into a completely dreamless sleep, her body unfurling as tension finally gave way like a bridge.
Tech watched her for a long moment, storing every line of her face in his mental data bank. It had never occurred to him how much smaller she was to the rest of them, her petite, five-foot frame feeling far more delicate than it ever had. In his arms, her tiny feet hardly reached his shins and the breadth of his torso practically swallowed her like a purgil. He closed his own eyes, guarding the stillness between them like the most precious calculation he had ever thought to make.
The overhead bunk lights had been dimmed, curtains partially slid open.
Alexei lay curled on her side, knees pulled toward her chest like a closed fan. Her breath had slowed, the weight of exhaustion clinging to her chest like a soaked blanket. Her body still trembled occasionally as she settled into the aftermath.
The silence was broken only by the subtle sound of boots grating against the metal - tight deliberate turns at her side. She didn’t need to look. She had committed the stride by heart, the tempo of it far too obvious opposed to the rest.
Crosshair.
“W-Where's Tech…?”
The sound of his pacing stopped abruptly as his eyes immediately fell away from her.
“I-...”
His voice cracked. He swallowed.
“I was worried. I came to look for you both. You must've fallen asleep in his arms when I found you. He gestured for me to take you back to the ship. You didn't even flinch. Out cold. I told them all to give you space,” Crosshair murmured, self-consciously.
She didn’t respond and she didn't move.
Without invitation, he stepped closer. Close enough to sit down in the bunk across from hers, one leg bent, elbow resting lazily across his knee…but his posture wasn’t careless, it was cautious. Watchful.
“I-...I didn't mean to-”
“No…I know you, I know how you are…don't go apologizing on me now. If anything-...I-...I should be the one apologizing…to you.”
She blinked, startled by his declaration. Admitting to his wrongs was a rarity, the emotions behind the act were foreign to him. She made note of the discontent in his features as he spoke.
“I was-...too sharp. Back there.” He murmured. “Too quick to speak, too fast to snap back. You were already unraveling and I-” He stopped, jaw tight, breath caught like it was trying to climb past the armor of his throat.
“You’re not a burden, Alexei,” He said finally, low and firm, “You’re not soft…or weak…or any of the things I made you feel.”
A beat.
“You and I both know…I'm not very good at this…the softness…but you deserved grace when I didn't give it to you.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose. “The truth is, what happened…what you experienced just then…I've experienced it myself…the noise, the light, the voices in your head.”
The spit Alexei swallowed down stung as it slid. Her breath hitched, fearful that the sound of it would overlap his words.
“I’ve had those…moments,” He continued, eyes still creating distance between them, “After missions…sometimes during…anything can trigger it…a sudden sound, a feeling in my chest…and it hits just as strong as blaster fire.”
Alexei’s lips parted slightly, the familiar ache building a fire of recognition behind her ribcage.
Crosshair finally looked up, the glaze over his irises finally finding hers, “Burnout. Overstimulation. PTSD. You’ve been hiding it all.”
She turned her face away. “I-...I just don’t want to be the liability. On Naboo…I froze…I've never done that before…”
A hush fell between them before she continued.
“I…I'm just so selfis-”
“Karabast, don't you dare say that word, Alexei.” His tone was sharper than a gaffi stick, “I will not have the most important member of our team throwing that word around.”
The regret sunk in almost immediately. Alexei hung her head low but Crosshair was quick to reach forward, two fingers pulling her chin up before she even had a shot to look away.
His tone didn’t elicit anger. It held a fierceness that began to show more than an ounce of protection in him towards her.
“No, you look at me, kid.”
Her gaze rose to meet his, guilt beaming past her pupils.
“You’ve been carrying more than a rancor’s weight but don’t you ever call yourself that heinous word for breaking under the pressure. Don’t cheapen what you’ve endured by acting like it’s a flaw in your programming.”
Her lips parted to say something but the words began to retreat.
“Do you really think that being overwhelmed makes you a liability?” He asked, voice low and steady, “It makes you human. You froze because nothing in the entire galaxy could have adequately prepared you for how quickly that mission turned to chaos…not because you failed us.”
Her chest tightened. An unsolicited tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. Crosshair leaned back slightly, but he refused to take his eyes off of her.
“You are not selfish, Alexei. You care too much…and that’s why it hurts.”
Silence stretched again, but it was different now. Less suffocating. Shared. For the first time in several cycles, the quiet felt like peace as opposed to pressure and Alexei sunk right into it.
Crosshair's typical sharp-eyed stare softened inch by inch. Without further delay, he motioned forward, deliberately wrapping both arms around the expanse of her shoulders. Tech's hold was elegant…practiced even. Crosshair’s was surprisingly solid…real.
Alexei stiffened for only a moment, taken aback by the action until she had no choice but to melt into him. He smelled of crisp soap and the rugged tang of armor polish. She took in a steady inhalation.
“Don’t get used to this.” Crosshair muttered, the corner of his lip upturned in a smirk that he couldn't quite hold back, the sensation of her in his arms softening his rigidity.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good, because I have a reputation to maintain around here.”
Alexei's head found the flat of his pauldron, the metal cool beneath her temple. Still, she drifted lower, drawn by the steady, muted warmth of his body and a sound emanating between them. Her cheek came to rest against the left of his chestplate.
For a long moment, she said nothing, listening intently.
“…So…the scary sniper has a beating heart after all.” She spoke barely above a breath as she pressed into him.
Crosshair sighed deeply, fingers delicately beginning to spool around her hair, tucking it behind her ears, “I wouldn’t bet on it most days.”
“I guess I just assumed…”
That earned a small huff of breath from him as he subconsciously curled closer around her.
“That I was hollow?”
“That I'd never be let in close enough to notice you were more human as opposed to a blaster-wielding war machine.”
“Tech’s the one with the long-winded comfort speeches,” Crosshair went on, “Wrecker's hugs could crack a rib. Hunter and Echo are better at mature rationalizations. Me? I show up, say one or two things that sound intellectual, perhaps tease you gently, and then I vanish like smoke before things get…messy.”
Her lips twitched against his shoulder.
“And yet, here you are, holding me,” She murmured, unable to deny the pride blooming in her chest, “And oddly enough, you haven't teased.”
He went still for a beat.
“Dammit,” He cursed, “I knew I had forgotten something. I’m off my game. I should’ve called you a walking stress grenade by now, or made fun of your dramatic Bantha milk monologue.”
“Hm. I've heard better…you must be off your rocket.”
“Don’t remind me.” He let out a dramatic sigh, pressing the stubble of his cheek into her hair, “I’m slipping. It must be all that bonding nonsense you keep dragging me into.”
Her shoulders shook, not from fear, but from holding back uninvited laughter that was beginning to bubble over.
Crosshair tilted his head, peering down at her with curiosity.
“There…right there…” His gloved finger traced the line of her lips, “Was that a smile I saw? Try again. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“I can't…” She sniffled wetly.
“And why not?” He asked.
“...Smiling shows the enemy your vulnerability.” She murmured, her dry tone mimicking his intentionally.
He chuckled, “Taking advice from the wrong vod, are we? Besides, we both know I wouldn’t choose just anyone to waste my annual hug quota on."
Finally, her walls caved in as she let out a laugh. It was trivial, barely there, but it was real all the same.
“There it is,” He drawled out with a triumphant smirk, “Beautiful.”
She wiped what was left of the tears on her face, a subdued smile tugging on her upper lip, “You’re really not as cold as you make yourself out to be.”
He raised a single brow, “Careful now. That sounds dangerously like affection.”
She grinned now, pressing a solitary finger into him, “And ‘beautiful’ isn't?”
“Quiet, you.” He spat back, mussing her hair for good measure.
They sat in that moment much longer than intended, Crosshair timing each of her breaths as they were drawn, the action moving her torso against his soundlessly. It was then that he truly understood it, the desire to hold on to something for once. It gave him a clarity he hadn’t had before, shifting his perspective.
All of a sudden, a soft knock sounded against the metallic frame of the door, breaking through his reverence.
“I-...know Cross’ said to give you space…” Hunter's voice was low, border-lining a whisper, “But I-...we…just wanted to be sure that you were settled.”
When Alexei peeked up, her eyes latched to Hunter’s but her peripheral caught wind of the rest of them just a few footfalls away.
Tech's much taller frame loomed just behind Hunter, his expression quietly processing through the glare of his lenses. Echo hovered beside him, quiet and observant, his scomp holding his weight against the framework. Wrecker lingered farther back, wringing his hands in that anxious, fidgety way he always did when he wanted to help but didn't quite know how to. His eyes were downturned.
Alexei's lips parted, but words were lost, a soft, broken sound escaping from the pit of her throat instead. Tears began to create puddles at her lower lash line. The stillness was emotionally weighted, but they were willing and ready to catch her if she fell again.
“Guys…I-”
Despite his hesitance, Wrecker was the first to cross the room, his huge biceps wrapping with such gentility around both Alexei and Crosshair that it was almost imperceptible. Remarkably, Crosshair reciprocated, steadying his hand to place over Wrecker's forearm, not to usher him away, but to acknowledge him. Tech stepped in then, almost awkward in his precision. The cool, clammy skin of his palm soon found a home against the back of Alexei's neck, the other arm creating a bridge. Echo followed suit, another piece sliding in with quiet grace, save for the metallic clink of his prosthetics.
Hunter moved in last, kneeling in front of them all, his thumb finding the tears free-flowing down the apples of Alexei's cheeks and brushing them away with a single, clean swipe. He leaned inward and pressed his forehead to hers. She let him.
And there, in that stillness, he heard it.
Alexei’s heart, erratic and uneven, keeping time with the turbulence inside of her. Crosshair’s was measured, deliberate, each pulse like a decision being made resolutely. Wrecker’s was loud and deep, each beat thumping through the frame of his chest in a solid, reassuring cadance. Tech’s was faint, rapid, relentless, as if it was trying to keep pace with the ever changing world around him. Echo’s was soft, steady, unwavering with a quiet certainty that everything he was, he would always be, no matter the weather of time.
They overlapped in his senses, an arrhythmic symphony colliding in one fragile instant.
It should’ve been chaos, but somehow, it was beautiful.
Hunter’s voice broke through, “You don't have to say anything, Alexei…not now…not until you're ready.”
Wrecker shifted closer, his deep timbre rumbling against her back, “We’ll hold the line for you, girly.”
Echo nodded, his human fingers skimming her sleeve, “Rain will always pass.”
“Statistically,” Tech’s voice trembled despite his persistent, analytical nature, “The odds of you facing this alone…are exactly zero. I ran the calculations this time. I-...am never wrong.”
A sound of contentment escaped Alexei’s chest, half-sob, half-laugh, as she looked upon the troops encircling her like a whirlwind.
No other sentiment was necessary. No expectations lingered. The only entity existing in that moment was the warmth and presence of unconditional love. The endearing spirit of a family holding her like a day's final light before nightfall.
It was in that light, she knew she would soon come home. The storm inside her evermore outnumbered.