Star Wars © Lucasfilm
The Havoc Marauder was eerily silent.
The blue glow of hyperspace filled the cockpit, slashing past the shuttle as Hunter stared at the ship's monitors. Nothing the ship's monitors displayed registered in his mind, for they were mere flashes of color and light beeps that were more white noise than its usual irritating droning.
His heart was empty. It beat in his chest, pumping blood through his body, but it beat for nothing.
Tech was dead, gunned down by Crosshair - by their own brother -, and his death had taken the very core of Hunter's soul from him. Tech was the youngest of the Batch, their little brother, always inquisitive and excited and the first to do anything for his team, and now he was gone.
The Havoc Marauder would never fill with the sound of Tech's idle chatter again, or the tapping and clicking of their smallest brother working on one of his many projects. Hunter would never have Tech's steadiness in battle, his pragmatism and utter calm, to fall back on, to rely on when everything went wrong.
Hunter knew Tech was dead, but he couldn't accept that his brother was gone.
Or that Crosshair had been the one to end Tech's life.
But Crosshair had.
Hunter had woken up to Omega shaking him, her voice frantic and eyes wide as saucers, her words incomprehensible. All he could make out were the names "Tech" and "Crosshair" amongst her rapid babbling, but the combination had been enough to snap him fully awake.
It took Omega minutes to calm down enough for Hunter, and Wrecker and Echo, who had jerked awake at Omega's shouting, to understand what she was saying. She and Tech had left the Havoc Marauder to investigate a signal Tech claimed was from a downed ship - albeit with Hunter's permission - and, apparently, ran into their estranged brother a few miles from the crash site.
"He told me to run," Omega had sobbed, her eyes red as tears slipped down her cheeks, "and I left him to face Crosshair on his own. We need to help Tech!"
"We will," Hunter had promised as Echo charged off to the shuttle's cockpit, the roar of the engines echoing through the Marauder's damaged hull as Wrecker bent down to one knee and pulled Omega into a hug.
Hunter had thrown on his armor as Echo flew the Marauder towards the last coordinates Omega remembered Tech muttering out loud. Echo had flown like a madman, the Marauder's wings almost skimming the crowns of the giant trees they passed over, until he banked sharply and landed in a clearing of snow.
The door had barely opened by the time Wrecker, who had bodily shoved Omega into one of the crash harnesses, bolted from the Marauder. Hunter had turned to Echo, ordered him to stay and watch Omega, then raced after Wrecker.
Tech had never run into Crosshair since they had left their brother behind on Kamino, and had never seen firsthand how cold and vicious the Empire had made their former sniper. Hunter and Wrecker and Echo had all run afoul of Crosshair since that day on Kamino, and each one of them had come back to the Marauder injured each time.
Hunter knew that Tech wouldn't be able to outfight, or outfox, Crosshair for long, so he'd run as fast as he could through the waist-high snowfall. For the first time in his life, Wrecker was faster than Hunter, bursting from the trees to find Crosshair crumpled over Tech's body, sobbing.
Hunter's heart stopped when Wrecker yanked Crosshair off Tech and slammed him to the ground, and Tech didn't move. Every second since was playing as if on repeat in Hunter's head: how he'd slumped to the ground beside Tech, eyes snapping to the hole in his brother's chest just inches above his heart, and then to the blood that had stained Tech's mouth.
Tech was so still as Hunter pressed two fingers to Tech's throat, desperate to find what he knew was no longer there. His brother's name had slipped from Hunter's mouth as the lack of a pulse finally registered in his brain. Tech was dead.
His baby brother. Their mechanic, pilot, medic. Their brains. The youngest and smartest of the Batch.
Their brother was dead.
Wrecker's screams for Tech haunted Hunter, crawling under his skin with no end in sight, and the sight of Wrecker hoisting Tech into his arms and burying his face against Tech's cuirass was hardwired into his memories. Wrecker had sat down as he pulled Tech's body against his chest, the way he held Tech gentle and achingly soft, with sobs wracking Wrecker's formidable frame.
He was broken, falling into pieces before Hunter's eyes, and Hunter could do nothing to put Wrecker back together. Wrecker was always the most emotionally expressive of the Batch, be it with joy or anger, and always with his love and affection for his brothers. And now Wrecker was holding the body of his little brother.
Hunter had always feared one of his brothers would perish in the Clone Wars, the nightmares of their perceived deaths hung heavily over his shoulders after every mission, and he'd prepared himself for it. And he had believed he was prepared - prepared to see the light fade from his brothers' eyes, to feel the absence of their warmth and presence - but this…
This wasn't anything Hunter had ever prepared for.
He hadn't imagined that he'd lose his youngest brother to one of their own, hadn't imagined that by the time he'd arrived Tech was gone. He should have been with Tech and Omega, should have told Omega that she couldn't go and ordered Tech to stay in the Havoc Marauder. Hunter should have gone with Tech to protect him and Omega, to watch over his easily distracted brother's shoulder...
But he hadn't, and now Tech was laying lifeless in the tiny, crammed medical bay - right next to Crosshair, who was under sedatives and being watched by Echo for any sign of rousing from his medically induced sleep.
Hunter dug his fingers into his palms, drawing blood as his arms started to shake, and finally broke.
He'd kept all the hurt and pain and tears and blame inside himself since they had carried Tech into the Marauder, but Hunter couldn't hold the sorrow back any longer. Tears slipped down his cheeks as Hunter buried his face in his bloody hands, chest heaving as sobs wracked his body.
Tech was gone. Gone.
Why did I let him go? Why didn't I tell him to stay? Why?
"Hunter? Brother?"
Wrecker's hand brushed Hunter's shoulder, the crack of his broken voice pulling Hunter from his thoughts and to where Wrecker was staring down at him, his eye dark with worry. Hunter tried to smile - anything to ease Wrecker's worry for him, to lessen the agony Wrecker was feeling - but his lips refused to even move.
Wrecker tensed slightly when his gaze flicked to the tears streaking down Hunter's face then, with the gentleness Wrecker reserved solely for his brothers, he wrapped Hunter in a hug. Hunter let himself be pulled into Wrecker's chest, let himself sink into his brother's warmth, and cried.
He hated that he could not be the strong one, that he couldn't support Wrecker when he knew his brother was just as broken inside as Hunter was. It was Hunter's job as leader to support his brothers, to be there whenever they needed a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen to their complaints or worries. The leader wasn't supposed to be as broken as his brothers, as uncertain of their path and destination as he was, but Hunter was.
Hunter's hands shook as he returned Wrecker's hug, his head buried against Wrecker's chest as Wrecker pulled him closer and buried his face against Hunter's shoulder. There were no words Hunter could think of that could mean anything to his brother, for what words were there that could bring Tech back?
A soft beep from the Havoc Marauder preceded the ship snapping out of hyperspace, the sharp blue of hyperspace changing to reveal a planet backed by a massive star cluster. Wrecker let go of Hunter and hurried to the co-pilot's chair, giving Hunter the chance to wrestle the controls and switch the Marauder off autopilot.
"Where are we?" Wrecker asked, his voice shaky and dull, as he shot a look towards Hunter then outside the Marauder's viewport.
"Xolviri," Hunter answered as the Havoc Marauder raced to the planet's surface, "Tech downloaded a list of planets where Venator-class destroyers were shot down during the Clone Wars. This one's at the edge of Wild Space… I thought we'd be safest as far from the Empire's reach as we could feasibly get."
Wrecker flinched at Tech's name but nodded nonetheless as they entered the planet's atmosphere, their shuttle passing by huge, obsidian-black mountains. Wrecker stared as Hunter banked the Havoc Marauder into a deep canyon, flying as low as he could safely take the ship, his eyes focused on the coordinates Tech had logged weeks ago and the treacherous terrain outside the shuttle's viewport.
They flew through canyon after canyon until Tech's coordinates blared and, through the viewport, the shape of the massive Venator-class destroyer appeared in scope. Hunter slowed the Havoc Marauder as he circled the Venator, eyes searching for a safe place to land as he prompted their shuttle to run a structural integrity scan.
The Havoc Marauder responded almost instantaneously, a holomop of the Venator appearing on the ship's display. As with everything Tech did, the Marauder's scanners were impeccable, picking up every minute stress fracture and crack along the crashed Venator's hull, and the strong points.
The Venator was too damaged to land on, but the Havoc Marauder's scan had found a safe place near enough to the crashed destroyer. Hunter adjusted the shuttle as he maneuvered to the outcropping of black rock, the Havoc Marauder descending with a clank that did not sound right.
Wrecker shot Hunter a concerned look as their shuttle's hull groaned, then slowly gathered himself to his feet. Hunter followed Wrecker's suit, though he stopped Wrecker before he left the cockpit with a firm hand on his shoulder.
Wrecker stopped and turned towards Hunter, his eyes glistening with tears, and the pain that was etched deep within Wrecker's scarred face would haunt Hunter for the rest of his years. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort Wrecker and, with an exhausted sigh, released his hold on Wrecker.
"Let's get this over with."
His head was on fire.
He was angry… but not angry at the traitors-
Pain split through his head, a howl of agony and rage spilling from his mouth as a floodgate of memories slammed into his aching head.
White armor at the end of his scope, the satisfaction of a successful kill-
Blood slipping down his smallest brother's mouth, staining his skin and the snow beneath him, as Tech battled with death. Tech's hand brushing away the tears falling down his killer's face, his eyes burning with feverish pain and affection for the man who'd gunned him down without a second thought.
Murderer.
Betrayer.
He could feel his brother's blood on his hands, eating through his skin like acid, tearing him apart drop by drop.
Crosshair snapped awake to a heaving chest and eyes burning with tears, of which he rubbed at angrily with his wrist before he jerked his head around to orient himself to his surroundings. The walls were closed in and tight, unlike his barracks on Kamino with the nat-borns, and there was the undeniable sensation of a ship in flight beneath him.
He was in the Havoc Marauder.
Clone Force 99's ship. His brothers' ship.
The gray walls were far colder than he'd ever remembered, almost angry, and it made Crosshair claustrophobic. He'd always preferred open spaces to the cramped interior of the Havoc Marauder, for he could see for miles out there, while the shuttle kept his vision far too close to himself for comfort.
Outside, Crosshair could focus on everything but himself and his mistakes. But the Marauder removed those distractions and forced Crosshair to see himself and all of what he'd done.
He'd murdered civilians under the Empire's bidding, hunted his brothers relentlessly and without remorse and, worst of all, he'd killed his own brother. He'd clung to Tech's cuirass as his brother took his last breath. Had lined his rifle's scope to Tech's chest and fired, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at his mouth.
Yet Tech hadn't been mad at Crosshair for shooting him. But then, Tech was never mad at his brothers. Crosshair couldn't recall a time where Tech had ever yelled at his brothers, or even stood up for himself against his brothers. His smallest brother always found a way to blame himself when a mission went wrong, his shoulders slumped and head hanging as Tech muttered apologies to his brothers.
Before, Crosshair had always found Tech's inexcusable self-blaming a frustrating habit that he'd never been able to coax Tech out of. Anger burned through Crosshair as he remembered the way Tech would flinch, eyes snapping to the ground as he fidgeted and muttered hasty apologies each time - as if Tech had believed that directing every single one of his brothers' anger onto himself would stop the arguments.
No amount of talking had ever convinced Tech that he didn't need to blame himself for their failures, and Crosshair hated that he knew why Tech had always believed he was at fault. His brother had been taunted and mocked by Tech's former handler, her oily voice always convincing Tech that he was dumb, worthless and at fault for every tiny mistake Tech made. It was her fault Tech had always jumped head first into the Batch's arguments and made a show of placing every single fault on his shoulders, leaving Tech oblivious to how much his constant self-degrading affected the team.
Tech loved his brothers too much to ever hold resentment towards them - even when Hunter had made the mistake of yelling at Tech, and had almost broken their entire brotherhood after the first mission during the war. Tech only wanted to keep the group's unity in tact, and taking the blame for their failures or mishaps was the only way Crosshair's brother could think of calming the tension that often rested between Crosshair and Hunter during the latter years of the Clone Wars. All Tech had ever wanted was his brothers' happiness, and all Crosshair had to show for his brother's efforts were old memories and the sorrow in his chest.
And Tech had not changed his ways, even as he lay dying before Crosshair.
Tech had apologized to Crosshair, his eyes dark with sorrow as he met Crosshair's gaze, blaming himself for leaving Crosshair to the Empire. Tech's voice wavered, not with anger as Crosshair knew he deserved, but sadness and guilt. He had assured Crosshair that he didn't blame him for shooting his brother, that he wasn't even upset by what Crosshair had done.
Crosshair wished that Tech would have been mad at him, wished that Tech would have glared at him or done anything besides apologize to him and look so utterly broken. Crosshair had shot his brother, and Tech refused to hate him for it.
It would be so much easier if Tech had hated him, had snapped at him or shoved him away with his failing strength, anything but forgiving and excusing Crosshair's actions on the inhibitor chip. But Crosshair had been there, had felt the satisfaction at the successful shot, even if the anger and fury that had dwelled inside him for months was the fault of the inhibitor chip.
To Crosshair, it didn't matter.
Inhibitor chip or not, Crosshair had killed his brother. He had pulled the trigger, brainwashed or not by some Force-forsaken chip. Crosshair didn't care about the semantics of whether it was his or the chip's fault because, to him, the answer was easy.
He had lost control over his actions since the Empire and the Kaminoans had amplified his inhibitor chip, but Crosshair had still been furious with his brothers for leaving him. He had hunted all of them with an intense fury, and he had blamed all of them for leaving him behind. That had all been Crosshair, no matter whether he was affected by the inhibitor chip or not.
"Force be damned," Crosshair hissed to himself as he dug his fingers against his scalp then slammed his fist into the hull of the Havoc Marauder.
Pain snapped through his arm as a sharp clang reverberated through the Havoc Marauder, jabbing needles into Crosshair's head. He felt a throbbing emanating from his right temple, painful enough that he clawed at his head, until his fingers slipped against a bacta patch along his temple.
So… his brothers had removed his inhibitor chip.
That explained why his head hurt but didn't feel like it was being split open by a lightsaber. His head had been pounding and splitting for the long, arduous months of his service in the Empire, and now it was a dull throb… but all together different.
Crosshair almost missed the splitting headaches at that very moment, if only so that he could have something to think of besides his dead brother. But there was no luxury of distraction, not in headaches or in wide open spaces.
And that only left Crosshair to dwell on that horrid cold in his chest.
He'd never felt guilt's gut punch before in his life - or at least acknowledged it - and Crosshair hated how his lungs couldn't gather air, how his heart felt like it had been crushed inside a vice, and how his inner voice wouldn't shut up.
You knew Tech could never shoot you. How much of a coward are you to hide in the trees when you have your brother trained in your sights?
Shut up, Crosshair growled as he curled his hands into fists, as if he could fight the all too familiar nagging voice in his head. Leave me alone.
It was a pointless gesture, but one Crosshair had grown used to under the Empire's rule. He'd hardly slept for the nagging voice that always reprimanded every action he'd taken in the Empire's name, and it had become like second nature to him eventually.
Crosshair hated the voice most of all because it was almost always right. Snapping at him for listening to the Empire who, it claimed, had enslaved him. Chiding him for shooting at his brothers, for hunting them with a brutal vendetta. And now it dug into his heart as he thought of Tech's dying breaths and soft, pain-filled eyes.
"I'm sorry, Tech."
The apology hissed from Crosshair's mouth as his eyes burned with tears all over again, a hollow echo within the shuttle that would never be acknowledged.
You're a monster.
Crosshair closed his eyes and exhaled, before he curled into a ball on his mattress, chest heaving with silent sobs. I know. I know.
The Havoc Marauder jolted, the hiss of its engines announcing its departure from hyperspace. Crosshair heard voices hissing quietly from the cockpit, the lilt of Hunter's husky growl followed by Echo's edged snarl, as the Havoc Marauder touched ground.
A knock rapped on the durasteel paneling that rolled up and down to cover Crosshair's - and Wrecker's - bunks, the sound drawing Crosshair out of his curled frame.
"Go away, Hunter," Crosshair growled. He could recognize the sound of Hunter anywhere. It was what had kept him so sharp while he'd hunted his brothers; he knew how they thought and knew how they moved.
He had used all of the time he'd spent with his brothers - damn him, with his family! - against them, had preyed on his brothers' vulnerabilities and for what? The Empire had never cared for him as anything more than a tool, and his brother's death was all he had to show for his servitude to the Empire.
He didn't want to talk to Hunter or any of his brothers, not when he was on the very verge of breaking. If he broke in front of his brothers, Crosshair wasn't sure he'd ever be able to piece himself together enough to pretend like he was alright. Crosshair was anything but alright, but he didn't want Hunter or Wrecker to see him break.
Hunter repeated the knock, though it was faster and much sharper this time. Insistent. Demanding.
"Cross-"
"I said, go away."
Hunter didn't respond for what felt like an unendingly long minute, the only sound Crosshair could hear being Hunter's breathing before the door plating slid open to reveal his brother standing, arms crossed over his chest and eyes red. Hunter had been crying. His leader.
And it was Crosshair's fault.
Crosshair swallowed and straightened on his bunk - actually Wrecker's, he realized, as he swung up and felt his feet touch the durasteel flooring - as Hunter approached him and sat down beside him on the mattress. Hunter didn't even turn his face to Crosshair as he sat down, his eyes seeming unable to fix on any one spot for more than a few seconds, then placed a hand against Crosshair's shoulder.
"We have to bury Tech," Hunter breathed brittlely, "you are allowed to come if you want."
Crosshair stiffened at Hunter's breathy words, then jerked away from Hunter's hand with a growl. "I said leave me alone!"
Hunter flinched at Crosshair's shout, his face scrunched with pain before he let out a sigh and slowly gathered himself to his feet. Crosshair avoided Hunter's sorrowful look with a jerk of his head and a deep snarl, purposefully staring holes into the durasteel flooring as he heard Hunter sigh beside him.
"He would be there for you, Cross," Hunter snapped before he swept away from Crosshair, the door to his bunk slamming to the floor with as much anger as Hunter's voice.
Crosshair stared at the floor and buried his face in his hands, tears slipping down his cheeks as he buried himself in his own hate and self-loathing. Tech wasn't the only member of the Bad Batch to be buried that day, for with every clump of soil that Hunter, Wrecker, Echo and Omega threw over their brother's body, they buried pieces of themselves alongside their fallen brother
Crosshair hated living on the Havoc Marauder.
A month had passed since the day he'd killed Tech - thirty-five standard days and eight hours - and Crosshair hated every second he spent on the shuttle.
The shuttle was cold, quiet, and his brothers were even more so.
Hunter tried to include Crosshair into conversations at first, but he'd given up after Crosshair refused to speak. Now Hunter was merely cordial to Crosshair, greeting him in the mornings and nothing much more. Crosshair acknowledged that Hunter had tried to break through the pain and guilt and hate that the Batch felt for Crosshair, but he wanted nothing but to be left alone.
Eventually, Hunter had gotten the hint and now Crosshair had what he'd thought he'd wanted. Complete and utter silence. Even Wrecker wasn't talking to him and that hurt more than Crosshair cared to admit.
Wrecker had always been the one Crosshair competed with, counting droid kills and always trying to outshow the other, but now Wrecker avoided even looking at Crosshair. Wrecker wasn't himself, not since they had left the forest planet Ruvu, where Crosshair's brothers had buried Tech. Crosshair hadn't heard Wrecker laugh, or seen a trace of a smile on his brother's face since Ruvu, and what few times Wrecker wasn't curled up asleep, he was sitting in the cockpit staring out the viewport.
His brother had even taken to sleeping in the cockpit to avoid Crosshair, after they had left Ruvu and Crosshair had tried to talk to Wrecker about Tech. Crosshair'd been bursting from the seams, desperate to talk to any of his brothers about what he'd done - the sin he'd committed against the Batch - but Wrecker had turned frosty and cold instantly.
"Please, don't," Wrecker had growled when Crosshair had dared to finally speak, and then Wrecker had stormed out from their cramped quarters.
Crosshair had led himself to hope that Wrecker might talk to him, to help the nightmares that plagued him nightly to fade, but his brother wanted nothing to do with him. And, as much as it hurt, Crosshair accepted that he deserved Wrecker's cold shoulder.
After all, what was he but a murderer? A traitor? The one who had taken Tech from them and left a gaping hole within the whole Batch?
Crosshair spent so much time just observing his brothers, while he either laid on his bunk or stood in a corner of the Havoc Marauder, that he knew what Tech's death had wrought on the group.
He would never have acknowledged it before out loud to Tech or his brothers, but Crosshair knew and always had known that Tech had always been the Batch's emotional anchor - the levelness that held them together. He never lost his head, unlike his hot tempered brothers, and Tech had always been the friendliest to regs. Tech kept calm in every situation, no matter how dire, and it had been Tech's pragmatism and logic that had saved the Batch more times than Crosshair could remember.
Tech wasn't aggressive and hate-filled like Crosshair was, nor was he quick to rush into danger like Wrecker was prone to. Tech had been the Batch's unofficial second-in-command, as he was always the one with the plans - and, as he used to call them, "brilliant ideas" - and he and Hunter complimented each other well. Crosshair had teased Tech for his "brilliant ideas" during the Clone Wars - and he had found some of Tech's ideas too crazy, even for them -, but he would do anything to have his brother's crazy ideas back.
And he knew, or at least assumed, that his brothers would have taken Tech over Crosshair any day, could they have chosen which brother would live. Crosshair hadn't spent months on the run with his brothers like Tech had, didn't know Omega or what his brothers had gone through when he wasn't hunting them. He knew nothing of what their lives had become, and Crosshair felt like an interloper to his brothers' lives.
A sigh escaped from Crosshair's lungs as he rolled onto his side on his bunk and stared at the Havoc Marauder's hull.
Why hadn't he been the one to die on Mon Torri? Crosshair was the traitor, even before he'd killed Tech. He didn't deserve to live with his brothers, not when he had the mark of a brother killer hanging over his head.
They were right to hate him. Justified in not wanting to talk to him or share the same quarters as him, as Wrecker had done. Crosshair had broken the promise he, Hunter, Wrecker and Tech had agreed to years before the Clone Wars.
Crosshair and his brothers had sworn, at Crosshair's insistence, that no Batcher would ever leave a brother behind. That they would rather die, then leave one of their own behind.
Hunter, Wrecker and Tech had not broken that promise when they fled Kamino after Crosshair had attacked them. He understood that his brothers had never intended to leave him behind, that they had only been in the hangar to retrieve their gear before they sought him out. Hunter was going to fight all of Kamino to find Crosshair… only for Crosshair to shoot Wrecker and force his brothers' hands in leaving.
No, that was not breaking the promise they had made as teenagers.
The moment Crosshair had shot Tech, he'd broken the promise that had kept him going through the war, kept him fighting for something he did not believe in. Crosshair didn't care about the Republic or the Jedi… all he cared about were his brothers. His family.
He'd murdered Tech and had taken away any chance for his family to be whole again.
Tears stung Crosshair's eyes as he curled into himself, body shaking, and fell into a fitful sleep.
The growl of Crosshair's stomach snapped him out of his sleep and away from the nightmare that lived inside his head every time he closed his eyes. His mind seemed intent on making him relive Mon Torri and his brother's death until it was all he could remember, and Crosshair hated that he could never just rest without this mind forcing the memories of Tech's death onto him.
I deserve nothing less, Crosshair argued as he slid down from his top bunk and opened the door out of his room.
He was almost always hungry - Tech had once explained that his hunger and lean frame came from a high metabolism that demanded food at an almost absurd quantity - but Crosshair had been neglecting the rational side of himself that knew he had to eat.
Crosshair didn't care if he was hungry, or if his body started to eat his muscles in its desperation to fuel his demanding body. He hardly even cared to move off his bunk anymore. His brothers didn't want him or need him - which he understood completely - nor did they even want to look at him or talk to him.
If Crosshair starved himself to prevent his brothers from spending more money on someone as worthless as he was, then he would be saving his brothers credits in dire times. It made sense, and it was what he deserved.
A brother killer did not deserve to eat, or to take up his family's meager supplies. It was hard enough, he knew, paying for Omega and Wrecker's love for food, and for the upkeep of the Havoc Marauder.
The shuttle was… different since Tech's death. Crosshair had overheard Hunter commenting on the shuttle not responding as favorably to the Batch's leader as it had Tech. Tech had known the ship inside out - had loved the ship as if it was also part of the Bad Batch - and it was obvious that the ship responded best to their deceased brother. Tech would have argued that the shuttle could not tell who was piloting it - "Ships cannot have personalities," he would have explained -, but it was obvious that the Havoc Marauder missed Tech as much as his brothers did.
Crosshair's stomach growled again, demanding any form of sustenance, and it was only because he was already awake that Crosshair decided to allow his stomach to win. He left his room, quietly walking past Echo, who was asleep in the hammock they'd strung up for him when he'd first joined the Bad Batch, then stopped at the small cabinet of food supplies.
A ration bar called to him and, after arguing with himself over how much the ration bar would set his brothers' budget back, bit into the crunchy bar. The small ration bar was gone before Crosshair could savor the joy of eating anything, and his stomach protested unhappily when Crosshair did not dive back into the cabinet for more food.
One ration bar was all he would allow himself, all he deserved when he did nothing to support his brothers. A month and a half since he'd been removed from the Empire's control, and Crosshair had done little more than sulk in his room or stand hyperspace watch when he couldn't sleep.
He was even less useful than Omega, who seemed afraid of him and always avoided him whenever she saw Crosshair. She, at least, was trusted enough to go outside and help on missions with Hunter, Wrecker and Echo. Omega, at least, paid for her keep, both in her ability to help Crosshair's brothers, and in the way she made Hunter smile.
Nothing, except for Omega's tenderness and affection for Hunter, made Crosshair's older brother smile anymore. So much of Hunter's focus had turned to protecting what remained of his family, fighting to keep all of his brothers and Omega alive in a world that wanted them all dead. Hunter had taken over Tech's role as the main pilot of the Havoc Marauder, and Crosshair was more than certain that Hunter didn't sleep anymore.
He'd caught Hunter awake in the cockpit, staring out the viewport with tears running down his cheeks, three nights ago - long after Hunter's hyperspace shift was supposed to end. Crosshair had had to pull Hunter to the quarters opposite of Crosshair's and Wrecker's, and had bodily forced Hunter into the lower bunk to make Hunter sleep.
It had taken Hunter almost an hour to fall asleep, though not before he had turned to Crosshair with an expression split with agony and hurt and betrayal, and begged him to not leave. Crosshair had fled almost instantly at the sound of Hunter begging. Hunter didn't beg, the Kaminoans had trained such weaknesses out of Hunter when he'd been selected as the leader of Clone Force 99, and seeing his brother beg had scared Crosshair.
His brothers were losing themselves, just as Crosshair had the moment he murdered Tech, and it was all Crosshair's fault. Wrecker and Hunter and Echo weren't the people he remembered before the end of the Clone Wars, and he doubted those versions of his brothers could ever come back.
Just as the old Crosshair was dead, so were his brothers.
The sound of tiny voices coming from Hunter's quarters snapped Crosshair out of his inner turmoil, drawing his gaze to the roll up door that almost touched the ground. He could see faint lights flashing underneath the cracked open door, though he could not understand why there would be anything coming from Hunter's quarters.
Hunter, as usual, was on hyperspace watch, sitting in the cockpit, and likely tapping away at the list of planets that were safe to travel to and run missions from. He wasn't supposed to be in his quarters at this time, and Echo was still sound asleep… so that left Wrecker or Omega to be messing around in Hunter's room.
A scowl pulled at Crosshair's lips as he shoved the roll up door open and glared at Wrecker, who was sitting on Hunter's bunk, staring at what looked like Hunter's datapad. The voices, too soft for Crosshair to decipher from where he stood, were coming from the datapad in Wrecker's hands, both of which were shaking.
"Wrecker?" Crosshair hissed as he approached his brother, who he realized was biting back choking sobs, and, slowly, touched Wrecker's shoulder.
Wrecker froze at Crosshair's touch, his eyes shifting up to meet Crosshair's own before Wrecker pulled away from his touch. Crosshair tilted his head at Wrecker's odd behavior then, without asking, snatched the datapad from Wrecker.
Wrecker lunged for the datapad with a strangled gasp, only to run into Crosshair's shoulder as he looked down to see what had his brother's attention.
A video was playing on the datapad's screen, the quality sharp enough that Crosshair could see Hunter and Wrecker playing with Omega. Echo was watching a few feet from Hunter, as Wrecker hoisted Omega onto his shoulders and charged Hunter.
Omega and Wrecker fought Hunter, their laughs so clear in the stark absence of joy that had taken over the Havoc Marauder. Hunter collapsed under Wrecker as Omega leapt from his shoulders, shouting platitudes of victory to the smiling Wrecker and Hunter.
Echo barked at Omega as the young girl charged off into the trees, reminding her to stay in sight, though it seemed that she did not hear Echo. Crosshair watched as the recording shifted slightly and an amused chuckle rumbled from the datapad's speakers.
His heart slammed against his ribs as ice shot through his veins, tearing into him as he heard Tech laugh. Wrecker fidgeted next to Crosshair, hands hovering near the datapad as if he wanted to snatch it out of Crosshair's grasp.
Crosshair shot Wrecker a look then shoved his larger brother backwards, pushing him onto Hunter's mattress before Crosshair sat down near Wrecker and jerked a hand to the datapad. Now he recognized it as Tech's, not Hunter's, though he knew that his brothers had buried all of Tech's belongings with him - his armor, goggles, utility belt and, as he'd assumed, his brother's datapad also.
"Where did you find this?"
Wrecker looked away, his large hands clutching at his nightshirt - black with little tookas doting the fabric -, then sighed. "I kept his datapad and recorder. I… I like to watch his recordings when I can't sleep."
Crosshair flinched at the way Wrecker's deep voice wavered as he spoke, how his brother sounded so guilty and close to the edge of breaking apart. Wrecker had always been sensitive, but he wasn't supposed to break. The Kaminoans had made Wrecker with abnormal bone density and strength; he wasn't the one who should be able to break.
Wrecker seemed to take Crosshair's silence wrongly, for he edged away from Crosshair and jerked his head away from Crosshair's view. Sobs cracked from Wrecker as he buried his face into his hands, his massive frame suddenly so small and absurdly delicate.
"I miss Tech," Wrecker whispered, his voice wavering with sobs, "I'm afraid I'm going to forget what he sounds- sounded… like. He narrated almost every one of the recordings I've watched. This is the only thing I have left of Tech."
Crosshair looked away from Wrecker, his throat suddenly dry, and shoved the datapad into his older brother's hands. He felt Wrecker hesitate, his brother's fingers brushing Crosshair's own before Wrecker took the datapad back. Crosshair yanked his hand to his side and stood, uneasy in the presence of Wrecker and looked away from his oldest brother.
"I shouldn't have intruded," Crosshair admitted as he edged to the door. "Goodnight, Wrecker."
Crosshair took a single step outside Hunter's room when he heard Wrecker stand. Wrecker's hand pressed against his shoulder, the weight of his brother actually calming, before Wrecker pulled Crosshair back onto Hunter's mattress.
Wrecker scuffed his feet against the durasteel flooring, then shot Crosshair a weak, threaded smile. He gestured to the datapad, which was still reverberating with the sound of the recording he had been watching, then Wrecker met Crosshair's gaze without wavering. "Do you want to watch any of these with me?"
Say no, Crosshair. Say no.
"Only if you want me to." The words slipped from Crosshair before he could stop them, the wavering desperation in his statement the only discernible tell of how badly Crosshair wanted to.
Of course he wanted to watch the recordings with Wrecker. Anything to be able to sit with one of his brothers and feel like he was more than just the murderer he was. Anything to feel like he was wanted, to feel that maybe his brothers would someday accept him again. But Crosshair didn't want his brother to know just how desperate he was to be given the opportunity to be with any of them, to sit with them and not think about what he'd done to their youngest brother.
Wrecker didn't comment on the way Crosshair's voice almost broke as he shifted and patted the space on Hunter's mattress next to Wrecker. Crosshair stared at Wrecker - he almost expected Wrecker to change his mind and throw him from Hunter's room - for a long minute before he sat down, his frame and stance tense as Wrecker gave him a weak smile in return.
"I've barely scratched the surface of his recordings," Wrecker said as he shifted his body to sit against Crosshair, and moved the datapad between them. "He has years worth of recorded data in here, and I have only watched a few hours worth of it in total. I haven't cracked the code for how he labeled his recordings, so I don't know what I'm going to watch until I've started it."
Crosshair jerked at Wrecker's casual statement, his eyes widening slightly as he turned and stared down at the datapad. He could see thousands of files stashed into folder after folder - and none of the folders were labeled with anything obvious, such as a planet name or mission - and the indecipherable list of numbers that labeled each folder made no sense to him. Who knew what Tech had recorded and filed away in his datapad, or if he'd-
"He records everything. It's a hobby."
"Cross?" Wrecker was starting to sound worried, his voice fading into white noise as Crosshair's thoughts turned back to Mon Torri and his dying brother.
Logical reasoning, and Crosshair's experience with Tech, told him that Tech had recorded the day Crosshair had killed him. Had that footage been downloaded into Tech's database? And, if it had, had Wrecker watched what Crosshair had done?
Tech's death, and Crosshair's betrayal, had to be buried somewhere within the recorded data. Part of Crosshair wanted to steal the datapad from Wrecker so that he could find that footage and delete it, but he was scared of reliving that nightmarish day more than his nightmares already made him.
"Everything was recorded, Cross," Wrecker's voice broke through Crosshair's thoughts, "it was the first clip I saw. I didn't want to see him die, but… I couldn't look away or shut off the datapad."
Crosshair bristled and jerked away from Wrecker, anger slamming into his chest without a hint of stopping. He hadn't thought of Tech recording his death until now - recording Crosshair's betrayal - and the thought made Crosshair want to puke.
His betrayal and the loss of their brother was eternal, locked in the depths of Tech's datapad. The idea frightened Crosshair, though he forced it away as Wrecker let out a strained sniffle beside him. Crosshair watched his brother warily, and waited for Wrecker to ask him about Tech.
Crosshair wanted to talk about his brother, to release the growing weight on his shoulders, but he was also afraid of what Wrecker would admit if he approached the subject. So they sat, silently watching recordings on Tech's datapad, without either daring to speak.
The recording ended and immediately jumped to the next, and it took all of Crosshair's strength to focus on the recording rather than Wrecker. He watched without much heart as his brothers fought Zygerrians and a young rancor, and he couldn't even smile when he heard Tech tease Wrecker for "losing his touch" as Wrecker struggled to tame the rancor.
The Empire had taken everything from Crosshair, everything he had ever valued.
He had no freedom under the Empire like he had when he'd fought beside his brothers and lived on the Havoc Marauder. They'd made him into a monster, made Crosshair watch as he murdered innocents, and he'd destroyed his family for the Empire.
Crosshair looked away from the datapad as blistering heat stung at his eyes, a new wave of shame and self-loathing choking all the breath from his body. Every night, Crosshair wondered whether the inhibitor chip had created the monster inside him, or if he had always been a monster.
He had never been soft-hearted like Wrecker, or as desperate for brotherly affection as Tech had always been. Crosshair was a jerk, to put it bluntly, and he had always been harsh, even to his brothers - though never to Tech...
Was it so hard to believe that Crosshair's actions were his own? That the inhibitor chip had amplified his already present anger and hatred, not that the inhibitor chip had created his anger towards his brothers? That he had chosen to kill Tech?
"Cross?"
The sharp peal of Wrecker's gruff voice clawed into Crosshair's ears, grating at his nerves enough that he shot Wrecker a murderous glare.
Couldn't Wrecker tell that Crosshair was clawing at his insides, shredding himself open to see if there was any good left inside him? If he had ever been a good person?
He didn't want to talk to Wrecker anymore, not when the vulnerability bursting inside him would expose itself to Wrecker in his voice.
"What?" He snapped, his tone lowered to a hiss that he hoped would make Wrecker leave him alone. He wasn't in the mood to talk with any of his brothers. Any, that is, that were still alive.
He knew he was guilty of hating his brothers, guilty of killing Tech in cold-blooded fury, and that the inhibitor chip his brothers had removed from his head was not the only one at fault for Tech's murder. Crosshair was the monster, not the inhibitor chip. The monster inside him had been roused by the chip's programming, but it had been a part of Crosshair since he was decanted.
Wrecker let out a sigh, one filled with hurt and guilt so thoroughly that Crosshair had to double-take, his head snapping to Wrecker with a questioning stare. Wrecker always seemed to make an effort to hide his pain from his brothers - Crosshair had always assumed Wrecker did so to avoid irritated glares from his brothers - so the fact he was so open with guilt made Crosshair freeze.
"I know what it's like to be a victim to the inhibitor chip, Cross."
Wrecker looked away from Crosshair as he let out a sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His scars glowed in the light of Tech's datapad, as angry and livid as his eyes were dark with sorrow. "I attacked our brothers because of the inhibitor chip. I tried to kill them, Cross, and I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to stop but I couldn't.
"I used my strength against my brothers. I hurt them. I would have broken Hunter's neck if Omega hadn't stopped me," Wrecker's words were choked with sobs now, as broken as Crosshair was, "and I was going to shoot her. Tech didn't understand that I… that I wasn't myself when I choked him. He tried to act like he forgave me, but he was afraid of me for weeks afterward.
"The inhibitor chip made me a monster, Cross. I… I understand what you went through and…" Wrecker swallowed loudly, each breath that hissed from his mouth shaky and broken, then buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you. I know what it's like to lose my brothers' trust, and I should have been there for you from the start…"
"Maybe," Crosshair curled his lip at Wrecker as he plastered a sneer over his mouth and pointedly did not look at Wrecker, "but I killed Tech. That is unforgivable, chip or not."
Crosshair wanted to hurt Wrecker, to chase his oldest brother away so that he could wallow in his self-hatred and fury. He'd killed his brother, and yet Wrecker was offering him the chance to talk - to apologize - that Crosshair had been so desperate for for weeks.
He looked towards Wrecker but paused, hands clenching into fists as Wrecker's words finally hit him.
Wrecker had been under the control of the inhibitor chip.
Wrecker.
The Empire had turned Wrecker against his brothers. Wrecker. Of all of Crosshair's brothers, Wrecker.
Wrecker, who was always the most aware of his brothers' emotions and would do whatever he could to make them feel better. Wrecker, who had accepted Crosshair when he'd first been assigned to Experimental Unit 99 with a hug and genuine friendliness.
Hatred tore through Crosshair, burning through his self-loathing and agony until it reached his core and laid its molten fury to rest within his heart. The Empire had used him, made Wrecker turn against his brothers and attack them, and made the outlet for Crosshair's anger the hunting and execution of his brothers.
"Cross? You okay, brother?"
Wrecker's voice faded into the distance as Crosshair clenched his fists together and ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. The Empire - and Crosshair - had destroyed his family. Crosshair could never forgive himself for killing Tech, but he could make the Empire pay for what it had done.
The Empire had wanted to make him ruthless?
Well, Crosshair snarled, I will show them what they made. The only way the Empire can pay is in blood, and I will never let them rest.
"Coming up on Crosshair's beacon!"
Omega's shout snapped Hunter awake, his eyes opening to the durasteel frame of his bunk. He let out a groan and rubbed at his eyes, attempting to wipe away the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for weeks.
Running from the galactic world power for six years had drained Hunter of his spirit, leaving him with only enough to protect his family and keep them off of the Empire's radar. His left leg protested as he slowly gathered himself off his bunk, a wince shaking through his body as he steadied himself on the top bunk's frame.
He couldn't remember every injury he had earned in the years since the Empire had crushed the galaxy, but his body never let him forget that they existed. Slowly, Hunter stretched his left leg as he rubbed at his knee, where he had almost lost his leg after a mine had detonated feet from his position.
Crosshair had been his only warning, his hate-driven voice snarling through the comms moments before the mine exploded, but it had been enough for Hunter to find cover enough that only his left leg was hit by the shrapnel. Omega, who had never really recovered from the loss of the Batch's youngest brother, had run to Hunter's side, hands rushing to patch his injuries as she begged him to not leave her.
"We will never leave you," Hunter had promised her, and he'd kept it every day since.
She was older now, much more serious than when Hunter and his brothers had first met her on Kamino, and cold. Hunter knew that she carried the weight of Tech's death heavily upon her shoulders - she had finally admitted to him that she thought she was at fault for leaving Tech to face Crosshair alone - and that had changed her.
Omega seemed to make it her life mission to protect her family as she grew older, exhibiting her medical knowledge to save Wrecker's life after an Imperial ambush. She helped Echo with his cybernetics, repairing and upgrading him until Echo no longer complained of phantom aches or pains.
The young girl, Hunter's daughter, had stepped into the role of medic weeks after Tech's death, her face set with a stern determination that had reminded Hunter so much of Tech. And it seemed it was purposeful for, over the years, Omega had taken on more of the tasks that were once Tech's.
She taught herself how to speak a multitude of languages - and had even drug Hunter and Echo into learning how to speak a few of them (Hunter still smiled at the sound of Wrecker roaring that he was hungry in Shyriiwook) - with the help of Tech's endless data and reference material. Crosshair, whenever he decided to stay on the Havoc Marauder for a few weeks at a time, had taught Omega his skills, turning her into as deadly a sniper as Crosshair was - until the day they had argued about Omega's motives for taking over what had once been Tech's jobs.
Crosshair had accused Omega of trying to replace Tech almost a year after their brother had died, the hurtful words a mask to the self-loathing that Hunter knew Crosshair was suffering from. Omega had bristled at first, rankled by the accusation as she met Crosshair's glare. Then, her anger had expelled from her body as she hung her head and slumped her shoulders.
"I could never replace Tech, and that is not what I... what I am doing. I want to remember Tech by honoring everything he did for us. And," Omega had swallowed here, her eyes red with tears as she looked towards Crosshair, "this is the only way I can make it up to Tech for leaving him. I should never have left him behind on Mon Torri... I am as guilty of his death as you are."
Crosshair had snarled at Omega's words and swept away from the Havoc Marauder, leaving his brothers for almost eight months without even a hint that he was still alive. Omega had become even quieter after Crosshair's accusations, her pain as sharp as Hunter's vibroblade driving through flesh, and it had taken months for Wrecker to break her out of her depression.
Wrecker did everything he could to remind Omega of the young girl they had rescued all those years ago, of her wonder and excitement whenever they traveled to new planets. Some part of her was still that Omega, especially whenever she found a new animal or first saw a planet they had never been to before, but that part of her had been almost completely buried with Tech's body.
And she wasn't the only one.
Echo kept a straight face most days, but Hunter still saw the waver in the former ARC trooper's expression whenever the Havoc Marauder spat at him or when he'd look towards the pilot's seat with a hopeful expression. Hunter knew that Echo and Tech had argued more often than not, but Echo had still loved Tech and would have fought the galaxy one-handed to protect his brother.
Wrecker had finally started to smile again a year after Tech's death, though the smile never seemed to carry the same unfiltered joy as it had before. Hunter knew that Wrecker was hiding something from his brothers, some form of heavy guilt and sorrow, but he never pried into Wrecker's heart. Wrecker was the Batch's protector, and all he cared about was that his brothers and Omega made it back to the Havoc Marauder in one piece.
Crosshair, on the other hand, had become someone Hunter could barely recognize. Where he had once wallowed in the Havoc Marauder, Crosshair now wandered the galaxy on his own, hunting for Imperials with the only thing that seemed to feed him anymore - vengeance. Hunter hadn't seen Crosshair in almost a year, though Crosshair kept in steady contact with the Havoc Marauder to update his brothers on his condition.
Hunter knew that vengeance wasn't the only reason Crosshair couldn't stand living in the Havoc Marauder for more than a few weeks at a time. Crosshair had never moved on from the day he'd killed Tech, and the Havoc Marauder and his brothers close presence only compounded the sniper's self-loathing.
Crosshair dealt with his demons by executing Imperials and running from the only place he'd ever called home. And Crosshair's absence hurt Hunter more and more each week.
He blamed himself for the coldness with which he'd turned towards Crosshair in the first few weeks, the sniper the only outlet for the despair that had broken Hunter. They had lost Tech because of Crosshair, but Hunter and Echo had chased Crosshair away when he needed them the most.
Hunter had chased Crosshair away and he could never forgive himself for it.
Hunter felt the Havoc Marauder slow as he entered the cockpit, gaze traveling outside the viewport to the giant, floating mountains that called the planet Phedoris home. Omega and Echo piloted the ship through the floating mountains, passing underneath waterfalls that doused the shuttle with mist, until the Havoc Marauder's console beeped.
Below them, on one of the floating mountains, rested a shuttle of a make Hunter had never seen before - Crosshair had called it the Judicator the first time he had contacted them and met with his brothers on a different planet. And, standing outside the ship, was Crosshair, wearing all of his armor but for his helmet, with his arms crossed over his chest and his permanent scowl etched into his mouth.
Echo landed the Havoc Marauder as Omega leapt out of the co-pilot's seat, her eyes wide with excitement as she tugged at her armor nervously. Crosshair had delivered armor to them years ago as a gift, custom-made to fit Omega, and she had never gone back to wearing civilian clothes ever since.
The armor she wore now fit her teenager frame, colored in ebony-black paint in all but for the right arm. The armor on her right arm was a stark white with a red line that ran down the middle from her pauldron, and it was the only piece of Omega's armor that she buffed religiously. Hunter's heart always seized at the reminder of his deceased brother, but he was the leader of the Batch and he had to be strong.
Omega burst from their shuttle the moment the ramp descended, flying into Crosshair as she hugged him and laughed. Hunter smiled weakly before he heard Wrecker sigh behind him.
"He's going to get himself killed one of these days," Wrecker breathed quietly as Omega and Crosshair headed towards the Havoc Marauder, their conversation too far and too quiet for Hunter's sensitive hearing to catch - though likely tense, for Crosshair had never forgiven Omega...
"I believe that is his goal," Echo commented, the disapproval clear in his flat tone.
Hunter winced and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, hating the truth in Echo's words. Crosshair acted with reckless abandon, attacking Imperials in plain sight before he'd vanish into the shadows, flaunting his skills as he took out Imperial after Imperial. Crosshair didn't care about himself, didn't care whether he'd make it back to see his brothers or not. All he cared about was hurting the Empire as they had hurt Crosshair.
He seemed oblivious to the fact that his brothers would be devastated if they lost him, that they could not handle the death of one more of their own. Hunter had tried to tell Crosshair that they didn't hate him for his mistake, and that none of his brothers wanted him dead, but Crosshair had merely laughed in his face before he glared past Hunter's shoulder.
"You may not hate me anymore, Hunter, but I do. And I don't want to be around any of you, anyways."
Hunter sighed as Crosshair and Omega walked onto the Havoc Marauder, then smiled. "Good to see you again, Cross."
Crosshair looked towards Hunter, his expression unreadable, then grunted a growl of acknowledgement. He rubbed at his left pauldron self-consciously, the movement drawing Hunter's gaze to the painting he had watched Crosshair etch into his armor the day he'd decided to leave his brothers.
It was a digitized skull with a lightning bolt, the symbol Tech had used on his helmet, though Crosshair's version was run through with a red line that broke the skull in half. And, written in bold Aurebesh across his shoulder, was the phrase "brother killer". Crosshair refused to let himself forget what he'd done, but Hunter had seen the tears that had cut across Crosshair's cheeks as he painted the words onto his armor.
Hunter moved to Crosshair's side as Echo and Omega headed back to the Havoc Marauder's cockpit, then placed a hand over the words as he gave a weak smile to Crosshair. Crosshair stiffened at Hunter's touch but he did not jerk away as he would have before, his eyes shifting to meet Hunter as the Marauder took off.
"We want you with us, Crosshair," Hunter reminded his brother, "we need you with us."
Crosshair snorted and rolled his eyes pointedly, but his body language did not read the way his voice did. Hunter could see the wear and tear that had settled upon Crosshair's frame in his slumped shoulders, in the way he plucked at his vambraces with his left hand, and in the way his gaze wavered between Hunter and Wrecker.
Wrecker stepped towards Crosshair slowly, then pulled him into a hug, crushing Crosshair to his chest as Wrecker buried his head against Crosshair's shoulder. Crosshair leaned into Wrecker wordlessly, leaving Hunter to watch his brothers and contemplate.
He knew that Wrecker and Crosshair had bonded over their ordeals with the inhibitor chips, and how each had broken the trust of their family because of the chips, but seeing how deeply Wrecker clung to Crosshair made Hunter's chest ache.
They all knew that Crosshair would leave them again, but Wrecker always tried to make Crosshair stay. Hunter knew there was nothing and no one who could convince Crosshair to stay with his brothers - the only way Crosshair would stay was if he could forgive himself for executing Tech. And that, Hunter had come to understand, was never going to happen in his lifetime.
The Havoc Marauder had leapt into hyperspace by the time Wrecker finally let Crosshair go, though the sniper did not move much more than an inch or so away from Wrecker as he turned to face Hunter. Hunter saw agony flash through Crosshair's eyes before he jerked his head in the direction of the cockpit and attempted to seem unbothered.
"Five years," Crosshair stated simply, though the waver in his voice was anything but simple.
"I know," Hunter sighed as he finally let his shoulders slump and sat down on one of the monitor display's chairs.
Five years since Tech had died, five years since Crosshair had returned to the Batch and five years since Hunter had lived a day without guilt. He still blamed himself for letting Tech and Omega scout out that crash on Mon Torri, still blamed himself for letting his family down. He was supposed to be the leader, the strength and solidity of the Batch, but he had failed all of them.
Wrecker's light touch pulled Hunter's gaze to his brother, who was looking down at him with sorrow cutting across his face, and sighed. Ruvu was a long flight, almost a day of travel from Phedoris - a planet Crosshair had discovered in Wild Space - even with hyperspace.
But Hunter would savor the day he'd have with all of his family, for he was never certain how long their family would remain whole. They'd lost their anchor five years ago, and nothing had ever been the same since.
He prayed that he would not lose Crosshair too, for no amount of anger at what Crosshair had done to Tech could erase the fact that Crosshair was their brother. Tech had forgiven Crosshair, Hunter couldn't - he knew that the inhibitor chip was to blame, but it didn't change that Crosshair had killed their youngest brother -, but he still wanted his brother back.
Tech's death had brought Crosshair back, or so Hunter had thought - had wished - when, in turn, all that had come from their brother's death was a distant, broken Crosshair.
And a broken family. A family that could never be whole again, no matter how hard they tried to piece themselves together.
Crosshair had labeled himself a "brother killer", but he'd forgotten the most important part of himself.
That he was still part of their family. Still their brother.
And they needed him desperately.