My Delusional Thoughts In Paper : Tech

A Shift in the Galaxy

Neurodivergent Tech Week 2024 Day 2: Comfort Person @neurodivergent-tech-week

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1424 Summary: Tech writes a letter to Crosshair after fleeing Kamino, a letter he will never send. Crosshair finds it after Tech's death. WARNINGS: Canon Compliant Character Death, Grief, Heavy Angst READ ON AO3

Crosshair,

I am not quite sure why I am doing this as you will never see it, but… talking to the others seems… hard. We’re always so busy now being on the run from… well, from you, I suppose. Though…

It’s not really you, is it?

I have to tell myself it’s not. I have to look at the facts, put things in order. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one doing so. Hunter is… You know him. He likes to keep moving forward, and keep moving forward, putting things behind him without analyzing, or taking another look because he has to think about his squad.

And I can’t accept that.

I can’t accept that this is you.

Things just don’t add up. They don’t feel right, like the entire galaxy has shifted its place in the universe.

Order 66 went out. That happened. And you tried to follow it. You tried to execute that padawan we were helping without provocation, without good cause.

That’s not you.

You like to sit and think, you like to act carefully, and with the utmost precision. I know you do.

It was as if part of your mind was overridden. Just not all of it.

You were harsher.

You were angrier, especially with Hunter.

You wanted to distance yourself.

You were taken from our cell.

What were you taken for, I wonder?

I suppose we never did find out, though I have a few horrible hypotheses. (Experimentation, perhaps?)

Thinking about it turns my stomach, it makes me all tense. I wish I could have done something to stop whatever had happened from happening. Yet, I believe I am supposed to think about you being taken from our cell. It is another fact to add to this complicated situation. Another fact to add to the list that suggests you didn’t actually want us taken captive, or dead. Another fact to add to the list that suggests you are not well, that you are not yourself.

I worry about myself sometimes—the inhibitor chip. What if mine activates? What will I do? And what of the others?

Will I do what you did? Will they?

Are you… still in there?

Are you alive, Crosshair?

Or is it just the Empire now?

What did they do to you?

I find it ironic that you were the person I always went to when I needed comfort. Your steady silence was supportive, a strength that I think others might overlook. I need you right now, but I need you because you’re not here. How funny is that? Though, funny isn’t the right word. This isn’t funny at all.

This is…

I am…

I am afraid.

But I hope you are okay. I hope the Empire isn’t hurting you, causing you even more harm. I hope you’re still in there somewhere. I hope you can fight this.

I miss you.

I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it, I don’t think. There’s so much else we need to discuss that conversations about you are quickly ended. And we have Omega to look after, after all. I know she barely knew you, but she seems to miss you too. I find comfort in that—in knowing that I am not alone in caring for you now. I wish you knew you were a person who could be loved, that you could accept that you are in fact a person like the rest of us, with needs and feelings. (Or are you even that anymore? I don’t have enough data to analyze the situation. I feel like I am looking at a gaping hole where evidence should be, where answers should lie. Where are the facts? The numbers? I grasp for them, but what is there to hold on to?)

I know Hunter misses you. He just won’t say it. I hope someday you can believe that he did, that he didn’t want this for us, for you. I think he has to keep going because if he looks back at Kaller, at you being taken from our cell, then he will believe he failed, that he wasn’t the leader we all needed him to be.

He still is, in my opinion. I believe Hunter is a great leader, and I know at the end of the day you carry this belief as well. Or you did. Perhaps, somewhere in there…?

On Kamino we had had difficult choices to make, and we’d had to make them quickly. You have to understand, we could not have stayed. Not even for you.

My heart clenches as I type these words.

I would have liked to stay for you, perhaps. But it would not have been the ideal situation. The Empire would have hurt me too, would have hurt all of us. They would have made me lose myself, like we lost you. And I do not believe in them. I cannot. I refuse to. How can you…? Can you…? No, the inhibitor chip. It’s the inhibitor chip.

My wish was that you could have come with us, that maybe we could have helped you.

Even now I am trying to collect the right data so I can build a scanner for the inhibitor chips, to—I don’t know—perhaps remove them.

Is that possible?

I hope it is.

I miss you.

I want you back.

We… we have your armor and your gear, by the way. I hope we can have the chance to return it to you someday.

I feel unmoored without you here, like there’s something missing for me to lean on. It’s… lonely, despite being around the others all the time.

Whatever you’re doing, wherever the Empire has you, I hope you’re okay.

That’s all I want.

I just want you to be okay.

And if being okay means you don’t need us anymore, then I… I will try to understand.

Just please be safe. Be careful.

The Empire is dangerous.

I fear it will consume us all.

— Tech

The words on the datapad blurred before Crosshair’s eyes, and his legs lost all their strength. He collapsed hard, sitting on a rock, breath forced out of him.

He bowed his head, putting a hand over his eyes.

And he couldn’t breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

It was then that he realized he was letting out harsh, ragged sobs, ripping right through his throat from his chest, tearing its way out of him, stealing his breath, his life.

He knew he had been Tech’s comfort person, had known since they were little cadets. And he had loved the moments where Tech sat with him, leaning against him, sometimes talking, sometimes just doing his own thing. Crosshair had never needed to say much to make Tech feel better.

To think that he had needed him, and he’d been…

Crosshair knew that the inhibitor chip wasn’t his fault, but the rest of it…

And yet Tech had thought of him, had written to him, had cared, had wanted him to know that the others cared too.

Now Tech was gone—a gaping hole in Crosshair’s life, a wound in his torso so large he didn’t know how he was alive some days.

His last memories had been of them on Kamino, of Crosshair wanting to be left behind. Why had he done that? He knew why. He’d had his reasons. And they all felt so stupid now. The time he’d squandered, the distance he’d put between himself and his brothers.

Tech had died trying to save him.

Tech had written to him.

Tech had cared.

And Crosshair had thrown that all away, had shoved Tech and his family so far from him it was like they had been in different galaxies, separated by his own actions, his own feelings. His own idiocy.

Crosshair had made Tech need him, and he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to comfort him.

For one devastating, fleeting—perhaps cruel—moment, Crosshair thought he could feel Tech leaning against him, could feel Tech seeking comfort from him. Then it was gone. He was gone.

Crosshair was all alone, nothing but birdsong, and crashing waves to fill his emptiness.

He hugged the datapad to his chest, and sobbed till the world seemed to rip apart.

Tech had been right: there had been a shift in the galaxy, and now it was missing one of its most incredible lifeforms. The galaxy was a lesser place for not having Tech in it, and Crosshair worried, that he was a lesser person without his brother.

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