Hi! Love your work! How about this?
Crosshair and Jedi!Reader were together during the Clone Wars. Unfortunately, Order 66 happened. Crosshair was sure that the reader is dead. The reader thought Crosshair was either dead or under the chip influence. Both of them have been through a lot. And then two years later they meet by chance. (Maybe the readee showed up at Cid's?)
Could you write something like that? If not that is totally ok.
Crosshair - The Way Things Were, The Way Things Are
Summary: It’s been two years since Order 66 happened. Two years since you lost each other. Two years before your paths crossed again. And though you both desperately hoped for a reunion, nothing could have really prepared you for the day it would finally happen.
Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi! Reader
Reader description: up to you, no description
Word Count: 2233 words
CW/ TW: Angst; mention of Order66/ death/ injuries, scars, betrayal, it’s sad but it gets a bit fluffier toward the end
Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @dusk-dawn-and-stars @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117
@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023
Notes: Thank you Amallarisss for your ask! it was really fun to write! (and hopefully sad to read hehe)
Listened to Laura - Bat For Lashes (slowed) while writing it!
They told you to go to Cid. She had information about a prisoner transfer, and the Rebellion needed the details to intervene, so they sent you. They usually did, because you knew how to find your way in and out of complicated situations; and you had a secret advantage; though these days it was more of a curse than a blessing.
You were a Jedi, once. One that fought for the Republic; convinced of its values, of its intentions. You truly believed it stood for freedom, for democracy, for something better. But you believed too much, trusted too much; and it almost killed you. It was the death of your padawan; and a handful of your men. The best troopers you could have asked for, but the worst opponents you had to fight against.
Now, things were different. Your lightsaber weighted too much, and most of the time it was hidden in a pocket against your thigh. You never talked about your life at the Temple, never mentioned their names anywhere else but when you were all alone, too desperate to keep your prayer silent. The Force never felt emptier than the day you lost them. All of them. You saw Jedis and clones getting killed, dying of their injuries; and these soldiers turning against their own generals, shooting without a second thought, repeating that cursed sentence; one that haunted your nights and woke you up more than you would ever dare admit.
“Still with us, Cloak?” Cid’s sharp voice called you back to reality.
“Yes.” You reached for the credits in your pocket, dropping and pushing them on the counter. She went to take them, but your hand didn’t move.
“I see…” she sighed, and she took out a small electronic card from her own pocket, sliding it toward you. “There. Happy?”
You heard the door open and footsteps coming toward you, so you let go of the credits and grabbed the card calmly, bringing it closer to you as you whispered a faint “thank you.” And you were about to leave when you saw it.
You could have recognised that arm plate amongst thousands.
Your heart pumped so violently in your chest it hurt, and as you tried to catch your breath and stop your hands from trembling, you turned the opposite direction. It was a mistake, because it only led you further in the bar; not outside of it like you needed it to be.
“Next time, tell us about the droids.” A voice groaned, and it demanded all of your remaining strength not to lose your balance; but you still flinched, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Everything’s alright?” Hunter called you back, and you knew you had to leave. You tried to rely on the Force, breathing in and out to calm you down just enough to hide the card in your bag and run a hand against your thigh.
It was still there, ready to be used.
“Yes,” your voice sounded hoarse, but it wasn’t a bad thing given the circumstances. “Went for the wrong door.”
You turned around, wishing for your hood to cover enough of your face as you walked around the table; trying to keep your distance with the group. And it worked well, until you reached the door. You had no other choice but to tilt your head up a bit to avoid bumping into the figure standing there, arms crossed. You recognised his face, though he looked a bit older, more wrinkles running around his nose and forehead, but always that same cold façade.
You guessed he was about to say something to you, but his jaw froze and his eyes opened wider than ever before he could even let out a word, and you knew it was your only chance to get away from here. You were lucky, back then, to resist the clone troopers; but here it was the Bad Batch, it was…
You pushed him against the wall using the Force and ran outside as fast as you could. But you didn’t stand a chance against a trained, enhanced sniper. You had to get off the ground, hide somewhere higher. You turned in a small street and jumped on the lowest roof around, then kept running higher as Hunter’s voice came to you; ordering to go after you and use plan Omega.
You didn’t know about plan Omega.
You felt something wrapping around your legs, and the next moment you were falling from the roof. You groaned in pain, a burning sensation eating up your arm, and instinctively, you reached for your pocket. The blue blade activated in a swift whistle and cut the rope restraining you, and you barely had the time to get up before a tall figure emerged in front of you.
You spun your lightsaber, coming back to your old habits; and as you aimed straight for his neck, he dropped his rifle on the floor and raised his hands in front of you.
“Stop!” he pleaded, and your blade touched just enough of his armour to make it smoke. “Stop, please, I-“
He let out a choking sound, somewhere between a nervous laugh and a sob. You felt your blood rushing through your veins when you realised the rest of the group could be anywhere around you, setting a trap.
“I won’t fight you, I don’t want to fight you.” He said, desperate, his eyes begging for you to believe him. “Please…It’s me.”
You couldn’t help the trembling of your hand, and your blade obeyed to the shaking movement, lightly bouncing up and down as you pulled it away from his neck. He breathed a sigh of relief. You kept your lightsaber close to you and ready to be used, in case the teary eyes staring right back at you were nothing more but a play.
“It’s me.” he repeated, lowering his hands to take yours, and the light touch of his gloved hands send an electroshock across your body.
“You cannot be alive.” It sounded softer than intended, and though you didn’t feel like letting your guard down just yet, you also couldn’t repress the weight crushing your lungs, choking up your voice.
“I am; and you…” he cupped your face, disbelief painted all over his own. Your heart shattered in millions of pieces as you felt his hand barely reaching for your face. It felt so unreal; too good to be true.
“How can you be here…?”
A loud sob blurted out of his mouth, and it was too late to stop his racing heart and shaky body. Every muscle ached too much, his breath felt so heavy and hot, vision blurred in an instant; and he abandoned yourself to you, to your long lost embrace; unable to overcome the devastating feeling taking over his mind. The memories of two long years, mourning, begging; and to finally reach what you both thought was a desperate, impossible hope.
Two years to feel his arms clutching you so hard and tight against him, to hear his voice break when he called your name like a prayer, again and again; two years to reach that exact moment when your heart died and came back to life all at once.
When he finally found you, Echo slowed his pace until he almost stopped walking. His heart flinched at the sight; Crosshair hanging on to you, his face buried in your neck, your hands holding onto his armoured shoulders; cries and chocked up words echoing all around. Tech and Hunter were quick to arrive, but they froze as well when they saw you both.
Neither Crosshair nor you noticed them. Nothing mattered but the fact that you were both here.
You remembered vividly the day the Force became empty. The pain and the screams burning your throat and lynching your heart. Death wrapping you in its fatal embrace as everything around you stopped existing in a matter of seconds. But what you could feel now was on the opposite spectrum of that dreading, loathed sensation.
A glimpse of life. Faint, but present nonetheless. Maybe there was a little bit of hope left, after all.
.
You accepted to walk the boys back to Cid’s; Crosshair holding your hand, and the silence weighting around you became too unbearable for you, so you tried to break it.
“Where is Wrecker?”
Your question was unsure, and you could tell by the way the Batchers tensed up it was the wrong one to ask. But Crosshair found the way to look at you; pain filling his eyes as he slowly shook his head, negative.
“His chip activated.” He explained, and your heart ached at the silent look Tech shared with him. You knew what he felt – in a way – and thought it was your turn to confess a deep, painful secret. Something you never found the strength to say to someone else, for two whole years.
“Kona didn’t survive the Purge either.”
The four of them looked at you like you had awoken a long lost memory; and Crosshair’s grip tightened around your hand, trying to get his apology across. It didn’t change the fact that you lost them, but it did help to know that someone could relate and understand your loss; and that you could do the same for them.
Cid scolded you when you came back. Told you that you shouldn’t have ran away, that she wasn’t looking for trouble with Imps and that if you were so eager to be noticed you should “light that ‘saber farther from my bar!” and you didn’t feel like answering that because you knew she was right. The last thing you needed was for the Empire to catch you. Which led your thoughts back to the card, and your mission.
“I still have to go. People are waiting for me.”
The question burned Crosshair’s lips; but it was all so new, so unexpected, and so much things changed for you both; between you both. Was there even something left? As far as you were concerned, you both mourned each other; and though meeting again felt…unreal and heart-breaking, you couldn’t deny the fact that you believed each other to be long gone.
You met his gaze, and his worried got to you. You didn’t know how to address them, though you felt the same as he did.
“Do you need a hand?” Hunter offered, trying to find a way to include themselves in your mission.
“I…Maybe.”
You couldn’t tell if it was the right decision. Your memories and emotions were too contrasted, and you couldn’t say which of them you should trust.
You were a Jedi, once. Emotions didn’t get in the way of your actions. Things were logical, done for the greater good, not for your own interests. You thought you were doing the right thing, back then, when you secretly broke the Code for love. For Crosshair.
But now? Now, you could see why attachments were forbidden.
You nodded to confirm your words and got up from the table you were leaning against; inviting the Batchers to follow you. You heard some muttering behind you, but didn’t bother paying attention to them, trying to get focused on your task. You told them where you stationed your speeder, and they offered you a ride back to the Rebel base that was built an hour or so away from the town.
“Look,” you tried as Crosshair helped you get the speeder in the Marauder, “I…I’m happy you’re here; all of you.”
And for a split second, that was all you wanted to say, and you closed your eyes as the speeder stopped against the wall, trying to remember that almost peaceful, almost happy moment.
“Things are different now, and it might take a while to…Adjust.”
You opened your eyes to see Crosshair nod, his face a bit more expressive than what you remembered of him. He looked at you, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I understand. I’m happy you’re here too.”
You felt bad for being afraid. Afraid of how he leaned closer, probably coming to you for a kiss. It had been so long since your last kiss; it had happened almost a week before the Purge, as you left for another mission far from him. You remembered too vividly the way he smiled, promising you another one for when you would come back to him.
“I’ll be looking out for you!” he loudly promised as you walked away to your ship.
None of you could have guessed. None of you would have left, if you had.
And now that you were coming back to him, he would probably fulfil his promise. And it scared you.
So you jolted a bit when he grabbed your hand instead; gentle in the touch, caring; and brought it to his mouth. He barely brushed his lips against your scarred skin, marked by the battles you had led these last two years, and squeezed it.
One. Two. Three.
Your heart missed a beat, eyes opening wide at the realisation. He didn’t look back at you, focused on your hand, the way your fingers barely intertwined with his. He missed the feeling so much, and you could tell.
You did too.
“Don’t worry,” he confessed in a whisper for you only to hear, “I’ll look out for you. We won’t be alone anymore.”