If you want to read a slow burn about Crosshair, this is for you. It is completely cannon compliant and fun to read if you have seen the first season. It fits into the season as if it was always a part of what was happening. What if Crosshair stays...
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Streaming in the hot winds, Alanja's blood-red gown fluttered like fire as she glided up the ramp into the transport ship, leaving behind a score of Imperial Officers that had gathered to see her off from Ryloth. Unlike the stained gown given to her by Orn Free Taa, this one was deep crimson and shimmered ominously when the light passed over it. In her hair flashed bright orange stones on pins that held all of her hair high on her proud head; not even a strand blew free to touch her high collar. Like all of her gowns, this one was as much a statement of her feelings as any of the others.
Red. That was what Ryloth was. It was drenched in it, and that sanguine hue was a part of her now. It would never wash off. Sorrow and fear trailed behind her as if she was a justicar marching up to perform her terrible duty. Ryloth was firmly in the shackles of the Empire. Kamino would be next.
At Alanja's side, Crosshair boarded the shuttle with his rifle at the ready per Rov's order. No clones other than Crosshair were allowed to share this transport with her. At the top of the ramp, Alanja gracefully turned back to gaze down at Rov and his officers. "Goodbye, Admiral Rampart," she said with a brilliant smile, her face still in excruciating pain from her broken nose. "Do not make me wait too long."
Rov replied with a cool, "Farewell, Ambassador Rampart. We will be together again soon, dear sister." His powerful voice was ever confident, but worry was etched in the tightness under his dutiful, brown eyes. She prayed it was true, that they would be together soon.
Around Rov, the other officers gazed up at her with admiration. Several of them had made overtures to her future good health, blissfully unaware of how Crosshair cringed at their advances last night during the small dinner held to honor her departure. Unlike other evenings, Crosshair had not been invited to sit at the table with her. It was just as well; she was still a bit angry with him over how he spoke to her regarding Captain Howzer. Why bother to stoke the flames of bitterness? Better to avoid any air of public disagreement with him. There would be plenty of time for her to argue with him later.
When the ramp closed, Crosshair and Alanja were alone inside the shuttle with only their pilots. After he put away his rifle and removed his helmet, Crosshair sneered at her red dress. "Not a good color," he murmured.
She sniffed in annoyance. "It's not supposed to be."
He smirked darkly and bit back with sarcasm. "Well, Mesh'la, I thought everything would look good on you."
"Mesh'la," sighed Alanja with a little chuckle at the end. "I'm surprised that you retained a word like that. You're all grumpy and mean. It seems like it would be hard for you to remember something so pleasant."
Crosshair bent over her as she sat and secured her seat belt. "Am I supposed to be embarrassed?" His gaze lingered on her too long.
"Maybe," she purred, noticing the pilots looking back to see if they were ready to take off.He put his toothpick in his mouth and took the seat beside her, giving a swirl of his index finger in the air to signal the pilots to take off. Within moments the shuttle lurched upward and began the ascent to Rov's flagship.
