Chapter Text
The damp alleyway behind 79’s was not the most ideal spot to be in after, say, 2am. Besides the ever present odor of rotting trash, the skittering movement of unseen creatures, and the humid shadows, sometime after midnight, something…insidious seeped into those sharp angled, too tall walls.
You hated when the bar manager closed up before you could sneak out. Exiting through the back door, past the overflowing dumpsters, and into the bleary lit night made your skin crawl. You shoved your bag under your loose coat and hated how the metal door clunked behind you. You maneuvered around an oily puddle, shimmers catching in the lights overhead from the speeders. It was a hot night, summer on Coruscant sticky with heat and speeder residue.
Times were tough - the Republic still reeling from the betrayal from Palpatine. Was there still a war with the Separatists? Maybe? It was all a political mire, and like usual, it was the everyday folk stuck with the burden. While the Senate scrambled and the Jedi isolated themselves, the lives of everyone else in the Galaxy tried to claw for some sense of normalcy.
You were one of those folks. You took the job at 79’s, grateful for the plentiful hours and decent tips. But not so grateful for the late nights. Desperately, all you wanted was to reach the hover-tram and get home, crawl into bed, eat something that wasn’t bar grub.
It was the snicker that drew your attention. You clutched at your jacket and picked up your pace.
“Where you going so fast?” The voice was slippery and unwanted, it slipped under your clothes and you felt instantly disgusted. You shifted your body so your back was to a wall, not wanting someone to catch you from behind. Again.
The pair weren’t clones. They had textured blue skin and huge, unblinking eyes. Sweat beaded along your hairline and the scent of alcohol permeated your skin like a layer of oil. You ran your tongue over your teeth and considered next steps.
“Don’t think that’s any business of yours.” You snapped and hoped that standing your ground would deter them. You weren’t easy prey, but you were exhausted prey. Best they don’t know that.
“Feisty little bitch.” One of them laughed as they both came forward. You stepped backwards, almost unbidden. One of them smirked and a pimpled tongue leered out of their wide mouths. You fought against a grimace and the brief idea of you running shot through your head. Your heart hammered as you backed up some more, uncertain how far the end of the alley was, uncertain what these two were up to - a robbery or…something else. You didn’t want to feel the fear you did, hated yourself for doubting yourself and not for turning tail and sprinting before they had gotten so close.
“Come here.” One of them reached out for you and you jerked your arm out of reach. You schooled your face to remain calm as you desperately tried to consider your next move.
“Fuck off.”
“Watch your mouth.” One of them lunged toward you and shoved you into the wall. Your head cracked against the hard surface and almost bounced. Splintered light shattered your vision, but - movements slow - you raised your hands to ward off the attack you instinctively would follow.
There was a sharp sound and the blue alien stumbled backwards. You yelped as a second shot followed. You looked up and a tall, lithe man in partial black clone armor strode into the alley. You blinked a few times and tried to focus. That face…it was familiar.
But most of the clones were familiar to you by now. You’d be working at the bar for close to a year. Beside Fox’s city guard, you’d met so many of the clones, as they came and went on their rotations. But this one - tall, silver haired…
“Crosshair?” You mumbled, wanting to stand up but finding your balance off. His movements were even, slow, predatory. You glanced back at the two, but they were careening down the alley. He watched them lazily until you couldn’t hear them any longer. The normal night sounds - speeders, mostly - sunk into the space between you and him.
You blinked again and attempted to stand, but a wave of dizziness set you back down on your ass on the gross, damp alley floor. Crosshair finally looked down at you and switched the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. His dark eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite put a name to, and then he offered his hand.
You studied it for a second, more trying to focus on it and not miss when you went to grab it. His grip on your wrist was firm, and his gloved hand was dry. And you were surprised how gently he pulled you to your feet, letting you put a hand to his chest to steady yourself as another wave of dizziness overtook you.
“Fuck…” You muttered as you went to touch the back of your head. He stopped you, his gloved hand moving your hand down and then reached around himself, fingers gingerly touching your neck and scalp. You winced.
He grunted, pulling his hand away. You stood in a tense silence for a moment, realizing he hadn’t said anything. A short blaster was tucked against his trim waist.
“I need to get home.” You told him lamely, now that you were aware of his silence, only wanting to fill it. And you desperately wanted to get out of this alleyway. Maybe you’d talk to Fox the next time he came in, mention something. You both had a good rapport going on. He dipped his chin and moved aside, letting you slink uneasily past him.
And then he followed.
You stopped and looked up at him, your vision blurring and then steadying again. An awful ache was crawling around your skull, the focal point against the back of your head and pulsing. You really hoped you didn’t have a concussion. Then you’d have to call out and tips this week weren’t as great as they had been. There was no way you could afford to call out. You raised your hand to your eyes, the ache growing.
Crosshair grabbed your bicep and guided you away from the alley onto the open platform. The noise of the speeders, laughter from the bars, and music hit you like another smack into the wall. You fought to keep yourself steady. He let go of you only once he had flagged down a taxi, the droid too cheery.
You opened your mouth, the gesture was nice but you weren’t spending almost all your tip credits on a taxi home. Even if it was the smart thing to do. You needed those credits for the end of the month. For something more important than a taxi.
“Get in.” Crosshair ordered, the gentleness gone as he herded you into the backseat. He gave you no choice, pushing you onto the seat. You tried to object, but -
Only he followed suit, slipping inside beside you and slamming the door shut. The speeder idled with an unpleasant vibration that made your stomach twist. You grit your teeth.
“Your move.” He said, using his toothpick to point at the waiting droid. The taxi smelled like cig smoke and hard alcohol. You gulped back the rising bile.
You mumbled your address and closed your eyes. You pressed the heels of your palms into them, breathing in through your mouth and out through your eyes. And even that barely helped once the speeder jolted into the air. Your stomach twisted and you sat back, pressing yourself into the lumpy seat.
“Head between your legs.” Crosshair’s voice was stern, rough, and his hand came up and guided your head between your knees. You fought back the groan - and the growing nausea. You kept breathing, fighting with every swerve.
The droid said something you didn’t catch. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving you weary and worn out. What a way to end the fucking evening. Your hands clasped your knees, and you tried to focus on your breathing. A shower would fix this. A really hot shower would definitely fix this.
It felt like hours before the taxi stopped. Crosshair yanked you upwards before you could slam into the driver’s seat. His fingers wrapped around your collar.
You felt no better - thoughts still blurry. Crosshair grabbed you by the arm again, pulling you out before leaning back into the taxi and paid.
You blinked stupidly at the taxi as it sped off, then to the clone.
“Why?” you mumbled. You stood outside the apartment complex. It was dirty, rusted panels and windows stitched together with electrical tape. Crosshair raised a single eyebrow as he took in the state of the building, his usual scowl somehow deepening. He ignored your question, his tense body betraying him as he surveyed the surroundings. Shadows lurked in every corner, a light fizzed unhappily over the entrance.
You dug into your pocket, seeking out your key fob in shaky fingers. You really wanted to shower. You really wished you were alone. But your new bodyguard hovered behind you and through the ache in your head you could feel him looming. You closed your eyes for a moment too long.
“Inside now.” He hissed, his lips close to your ear.
“Shove off.” You grumbled, waving the fob over the pad and the door slid open with an unhappy creak. You both stepped over the threshold.
“I don’t remember inviting you over.” You look into his cold, dark eyes and hope for some sort of reaction. Or even an answer. That would be even better.
“Funny that - I don’t remember receiving a thank you for saving your ass.” Something like merriment (but it couldn’t possibly be that, could it) flashed across his face. But he was correct, you had been so dazed you hadn’t said anything let alone a thank you.
You sighed and leaned against the elevator wall. “Thank you Crosshair for saving my ass.”
He smirked.
The elevator door opened and you stumbled onto the hallway. The humid air was like stepping into a damp bar rag. Your level had an outdoor walkaround, and normally you appreciated the view into the city. But over the last few months, you found yourself rushing into the relative quiet and safety of your apartment. Things had grown unstable since Palpatine’s demise and the ensuing chaos between the Jedi and the Senate.
Something about black Jedi magic and…stuff? Palpatine was the orchestrator of so much of the violence across the galaxy and the public just needed to trust…who? Now was not the time to think, but still. You unlocked your door and stepped through, grateful for the coolness your rooms offered.
Still, Crosshair followed, like a shadow. The door closed behind him with a small click and you fumbled with the side light. The darkness felt nice to your aching eyes. Crosshair moved around you as you struggled with your shoes and flipped on the light in your kitchen. The rectangular glow from the doorway illuminated the wall across from it and made you squint. Your apartment was one long hallway with three separate doors: kitchen area with seating, bathroom, bedroom. You didn’t need anything else.
Crosshair rummaged around and you slumped against the wall, sliding until your butt hit the floor. You should have had more feelings about Crosshair in your apartment. You should have thought about the consequences of this. You were familiar with Clone Force 99 - they were with Rex and Rex was with General Anakin. They were on Coruscant often, and just as often, in the bar. Hunter was a hopeless flirt but Crosshair…
You refused to go down that road right now.
You jerked when you felt his gloved hands on your chin. He lifted your face to look at him and you hated how your heart nearly jump started itself at his touch. How did his face always look so impassive? What was he thinking?
“Presumptuous of you to ask.” Crosshair murmured, his eyes gazing intently into yours. You really hadn’t meant to ask that out loud and felt like a child. But now you really did want to know. He spoke the least out of the group, but the heat you felt…
You hated to admit how much this felt like a weird fantasy of yours suddenly sprung to life. All you could picture was the way his gaze tracked your movements at 79’s, the way you tried not to be too obvious in how badly you wanted him to look at you. Of course you weren’t the only bar attendant that preened under the thought of his gaze.
Crosshair was so….so…uninterested. And dangerous. He was reserved in a way that made everyone around him nervous. Like he was only waiting for the moment to pounce. Everyone knew he was the sniper, the sharpshooter. If it wasn’t for the scarring around his eye, it was the stories.
“That was an indoor thought.” You muttered, keeping eye contact with him. His lips twitched.
“Bacta?” He finally asked, his fingers feeling around the back of your head again.
“Bathroom. Second door.”
He stood up and you were suddenly looking at his legs. You refused to raise your eyes to his, refused to look up at him from his vulnerable position. You were not going to think that way right now. And lucky for you, your aching skull helped keep you level headed. You started to breathe through your mouth again.
When Crosshair returned, he squatted down in front of you and raised your chin so you would look at him again. You blushed. You couldn’t help it. His fingers touched you with a gentleness you didn’t think was possible. His face was harsh in the off-hand glow of the kitchen light.
He took off his glove and spread the bacta gel on two of his fingers, you let your head fall forward. He moved your hair with his free hand before rubbing the gel into your scalp. It stung for a moment before a cooling sensation took over. You hissed with the first contact before leaning a bit forward and resting your forehead against his chest. He stilled for a moment before continuing.
“That was stupid.” He finally said. You felt so tired, your limbs wooden and heavy. A shower would be nice but the idea of standing there and remaining upright was impossible.
“You can thank Max then.” You mumbled, breathing in the scent of him. Blaster residue. Sweat. Something musky that must be just him. You wanted to rub your face against his chest. Now that was the most inappropriate thought you’d ever had. Crosshair made some sort of noise but didn’t respond.
To fill the silence, you continued. “He doesn’t let us use the front when our shifts are over. Something about not good for the guests.”
Something that almost sounded like a snarl was the response. Crosshair frowned and wiped the bacta gel against his blacks. You leaned your head back once more, trying to catch his eyes. His face was tense.
“I hate that back fucking alley.” You huffed. “I’ll talk to Fox or something about it.”
“No need. I’ll be having a chat with him.”
“Crosshair - what is -”
He shot you a look that shut you up. There it was. The thing that made you shiver with a secret desire. That murderous look, the one that made your breath hitch. Like he was about to bite into someone and tear out their throat. Or perch on a building and start picking off combatants one by one. That hard, merciless look.
You weren’t getting any answers tonight about what was happening. The question ‘why’ floated through your groggy thoughts but you kept your mouth shut.
He stood up and held out a hand again. You accepted. He still crowded into you, tall and strong, looking down at you. He no longer looked so angry, but his tense body said something different.
If he touched you, you didn’t think you’d say no. Concussion or no.
“Good night then. Be a good girl and stay safe for me.” He popped a toothpick into his mouth and smirked.
You nodded numbly; suddenly needing a shower for a completely different reason.