Out of Time

Chapter 2 - Got No Reason Yet to Die

Author's Note: Everyone's reactions to time-traveling (I'd put this on the first chapter but it's minor spoilers xD):

Echo: This is amazing I can save everyone!! :D

Hunter: I don't care if I die I just want a hug

Tech: If there's a place called home, I should very much like to find it.

Wrecker: the world is ending and all my brothers are dying and I'm going to be the only one left alive *panic attack starts*

Crosshair: remind me why I should care lol

Omega: *sobbing*

~ Rivana Rita

He's in a cruiser now. A Republic cruiser. Crosshair thinks he must've spaced out somewhere on the way up, though he's not fully sure if it's out of habit or from exhaustion right now, not that either one particularly matters. It's actually not until he finally dares to ask the date – because he was wondering how much time has passed, and he's entirely lost track of time – that the shock snaps him back to the present.

Crosshair was from at least a year after that. Somewhere up to one and a half. That's... the last thing he remembers.

"You're from a different place," Anakin tells him, approaching. "I can't say what happened, but I've felt this disturbance. It originates from... elsewhere. Something ripped a hole through realities. One of its... branches touched Ringo Vinda."

He still doesn't understand what that means. (He has no idea what to do. He just feels... lost. Empty. And it's not as if there's anything that matters anymore, anyway. Everything he fought for, everything he did, everything he is, was for nothing.) Isn't even sure he entirely cares what that means. It isn't as though Crosshair has much to care for anymore.

He never really has.

"Jedi osik," Fives mouths at him. A year ago, he'd have responded with an equally snippy agreement. He finds himself cracking a smile, anyway.

"Fives," Anakin adds, "Take Crosshair to your barracks. He needs to rest." Any other circumstances, he'd protest. Not now. Not when it's true. "Try not to be gone long. We need you to get through to Tup."

"Alright," the reg replies cheerily, "If anyone objects, I'll tell them I got explicit permission from the General. And when they go to complain to you, feel free to chew them out for questioning your direct orders."

"First off," Anakin replies, "If more people verified the supposed word of the General, we wouldn't have half the situations we do."

That teasing is... so familiar. Crosshair hasn't seen it in months. It's so much like his own brothers, but... that doesn't fully make sense.

Rex clears his throat. "As entertaining as this is, I suggest we return to the task at hand," he interjects, and Crosshair immediately reorganizes his mental rank list of the 501st.

"Come on," Fives says, shooing him off for the door.

It's not that far, though it's still draining, and he's exhausted. Still, he can't stop thinking back to that conversation.

"What?" Fives asks, "You keep giving me that look."

"Why do you trust him?" Crosshair asks finally. He doesn't trust anyone. Not anymore. Not... like he used to. Loosely, in much the same way the regs do, he trusts them. But... that's all. He can't understand why – or how – they would trust someone who... isn't a brother. He never has. Neither did... his squad. One time, anyway. Because there's a difference between trusting someone not to stab you in the back, and expecting them to treat you as their own.