The Clone Wars One Shots

Elite Part 7

You smirked, pecking him on the cheek. "Well, now you do."

He looked around the room, finally noticing exactly where he was. He blinked in confusion, obviously expecting the blinding lights and white walls of Kamino. Instead, he was met with a strange, vaguely familiar sight. "This is... Coruscant?"

"With the state you were in, we wouldn't have made it to Kamino," you explained, taking his hand and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "This was the best option."

"I see..." Crosshair looked down at your intertwined hands, and a small smile lit up his tired face. His gaze drifted up to meet yours, and a look of concern washed over him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you assured him. By this point, it wasn't exactly a lie. You had reached the point where you could be up and about without the medics yelling at you, which you counted as healed. "You scared the crap out of me, but other than that..."

"Sorry..."

"It's not your fault." Wait... is it? "It's... not your fault, right? What happened?" Just by looking at him, you could tell he wasn't sure. He subconsciously reached for his head, brushing his fingertips over his burnt right temple. You lowered your voice to a whisper. "You didn't mean all that, did you? What you said on the artillery deck?"

Crosshair hesitated, then lowered his head with a sigh. "No, I didn't. I don't want them dead, I really don't. I... I miss them."

"You'll see them again, I know it."

"That's... what I'm afraid of. I don't want to fight them, I really don't, but... they betrayed everything we stood for." He raised his head again, looking directly into your eyes. He seemed to be trying to convince himself more than you. "I don't have a choice."

"I'm sure they'll come to their senses eventually," you assured him, though you both knew it was a lie. "They don't want to fight you, either, I can tell. Trust me, Cross, they'll be back."

"I..." Crosshair sighed. "I don't know if that's what I want..."

"I know."

A few days later, Crosshair's bandages were removed, and he was free to leave the confinement of his room. He was still scarred and weak, but far better off than he had been during your first visit. His recovery had been going better than expected, according to his medical droids. You had taken to visiting whenever possible. After your own wounds were fully healed, you remained by his side almost constantly. The medics had a tendency to arrive at the worst times and chase you out so that they could do their job, but you slipped back in as soon as they stepped out.

In other words, Crosshair barely got a second alone during his healing process. Normally, he would have hated that, but it was you, so he didn't. He liked your company, and always wanted more of it.

You had received a transmission from Rampart requesting the Elite Squad back on the front lines in five standard days. You were unsure if Crosshair would be battle-ready by that point and justly voiced your concerns, but the Vice Admiral was having none of it. At least until you showed him a photo of Crosshair's gruesome head injury the day he had been admitted to the Coruscant medical bay, at which point the high and mighty Rampart gagged and agreed to nine days. No more, no less. A partial victory. Crosshair was embarrassed when you told him what happened, but proud of you for doing what it took to earn him adequate recovery time.

With seven days left and an almost healed Crosshair, you sat at the end of his hospital bed with Todo, who's arm you were recalibrating. You remained silent as you worked, deep in thought.

"You're quiet," Crosshair said, snapping you out of your trance. "Is something wrong?"

You sighed, finished the last adjustments to Todo's arm, then dropped your hands into your lap. As you fiddled with your fingers, your mind went to war against itself. You sat in silence for a long moment, then decided to let slip a question that had been simmering in your mind for quite some time.