Summary: Sequel to When The Stars Burn Out. Hunter has a lot to thank Cut Lawquane for. His friendship, his loyalty, his undying protection and brotherhood. His patience, especially. Because Hunter's back on his feet now, and he has a squad to take care of, and himself to make peace with. It's time to accept the truth of what happened that day on Mygeeto. One-shot.
A/N: Huge thanks to Wheeljack for lending me a few ideas when I got stuck near the end.
Inspired by:
- RosePointe's All The Broken Stars
- Fulcrum55's Second Life
- wwheeljack's Frozen Pines series
As Dawn Breaks Through The Dark
It's a near-starless night on Lah'mu. Clouds trail across the dark sky, guided by the chilled wind, lulled by the crashing of the waves on the black beach below. There are no creatures to be heard, no voices to break the quiet calm of nature. Further inland, there's a mismatched house sitting at the base of a green mountain, sturdy and warm. Closer to the beach, a ship sits, her power off, an almost abandoned feel to it. It's as cold there as it is outside, with her belly wide open. Between the two, there's a mound of rocks and sand. At the head of it, a battered white helmet is propped up on a sniper rifle, swaying slightly in the breeze. It's a grave.
The tranquility is disturbed by the sound of footfalls on the ship's ramp, a figure descending from within. The figure is clad in black armor, detailed with a white half-skull and red stripes. His hands are empty, hanging at his sides as if he's trying to keep up an unattached aura. But once his boots hit the sand, he's turning and approaching the grave, a slight hesitance to his step. The cold doesn't seem to bother him. If it does, he doesn't show it.
It's the middle of the night, the moon directly above the beachside.
Hunter falls to one knee before the burial spot, bows his head. He likes Lah'mu, the quietness of the planet, the life he can feel teeming through it. He understands why Cut chose this planet to settle on. It doesn't get much more peaceful than this. Tech would've loved it here. Hunter would stay here forever with him, if he could. But he knows he can't.
That's why he sits here now, when he should be sleeping, keeping his brother company. Time's ticking, and he has others who need him. This is his one last night of silence, a vigil for his vod'ika. When the sun rises and the day begins, he will finally allow himself to begin again, to let go, to move on. His family needs him to lead again.
So, he sits, lets the chill of the night air seep through his armor and flesh, burrowing into his very core. He feels calmer, cold. It's something that soothes him. Always has.
He eventually takes off his own helmet and sets it down beside him. The wind brushes his long, unkempt hair into his face, nips at his tangled beard. He almost smiles, because it's the most feeling that he's experienced since his team pulled him away from his little brother's freezing body and dragged him back aboard the Marauder. The cool air on his face, it's almost like coming home. Home. Kamino. Gone. He pulls himself away from that train of thought, because it'll only just drag him back into the empty bubble he's only just broken out of. It feels good to feel again, and he doesn't wish to stop. Never again will he let himself tune everything out- never again will he tune his family out. Never again will he allow himself to drift away, no matter how tempting it is. It's a luxury none of them have, least of all him. They live in dark times, and he needs to push back.
His hand rises of its own accord, reaches out to cradle the empty, hollow old helmet. He stares at it until he can see the goggles filling the gaping void in the front of the helmet, and the eyes beneath, filled with such warmth. He closes his own eyes, leans his head forward so that his nose and clothed forehead press against the worn down duraplast. He takes a deep breath, inhales the damp, salty air.
He stays there like that, for what may be seconds, minutes, or- most likely- even hours. He's not sure how long, really, but it's long enough so that the first golden streaks of sunlight are beginning to filter over the horizon, bleeding into the sea when he finally stirs from his vigil.
I know you're listening, he begins. You always do.
I promised you that nothing would happen to you so long as I was alive. But I'm the one here, and you're the one who isn't. I failed you, Tech, and I'm so sorry.
I won't fail again. Not them, not you. I mean that, more than anything I've ever told you.
Take care of yourself, vod'ika. I miss you, more than you could ever know.
He pulls his head back, and out of the corner of his eye, catches sight of something on the shoreline that doesn't belong. He's almost certain that it's a set of white armor, but when he jerks his head up to look at it properly, the figure is gone, and he wonders if he's beginning to hallucinate. Wouldn't be the first time, and it certainly won't be the last.
He blinks again, just to check. Nothing. All he sees are the rocks lining the shore, the ocean rushing towards them, the waves beating in tandem, their noise drowning out everything else around them. He pushes down the disappointment that flares up within his chest. Tech is dead- he won't see him again, ever.
He sighs heavily and grabs his helmet from beside him, tucking it under his arm as he slowly rises to his feet. His joints crack loudly, and he stretches the ones that don't. He gives the grave one last glance, then the horizon. The rising sun paints the clouds a pink and gold fire. Tech would have loved to see it, he thinks, with a wistful smile. Then, he turns away and begins to head back to the Marauder. At long last, his vigil is over.
The dark sand shifts slightly with each step, crunching softly beneath his feet. He focuses on the sound of that over the crashing of the waves, the sound of each grain pushing up against the rest. It drowns out that tempting call to turn back and stay at the grave, pressed against his brother's helmet forever. But, no, he's already decided- he must push on. It's what Tech would want him to do, and he's failed his little brother one time too many already.
He doesn't hear his youngest living brother stir within the Marauder, curse at the realization of his apparent disappearance. It's the footsteps on the bottom of the ramp that get Hunter's attention, Crosshair stepping onto the beach with a scowl.
"You're back with us, then?" The sharpshooter asks, masking whatever hope he has with his usual snideness.
He nods, utters the first words he thinks he's said in months. "Yeah. I'm here, Cross."
"About time."
They each come to a halt, a few yards from the ship, uncomfortably facing each other.
"Was that your sniper, back there?" Hunter asks, jerking his head back towards where he's come from.
"I'm surprised you noticed." Crosshair remarks.
He winces. "Look, I didn't mean to…I know I left you all in the dark, that you needed me and I wasn't there, but give me a break, Crosshair. Tech died! You think I could go straight back to doing jobs for Cid after that?"
"You're not the only one who lost a brother on Mygeeto. The rest of us didn't forget about the rest of the karking galaxy and forget that we have our own roles to play. You did. You left us to fend for ourselves, Hunter! We needed you- more than when my kriffing chip activated- and you forgot about us." His brother's eyes are shining with unshed tears, even as they're livid with anger masked abandonment and grief. His voice lowers to a hiss. "You shut us out, Hunter. You had your break, and it's over."
"Cross." Hunter manages, his own eyes burning, his own voice trembling slightly. He swallows, holds a hand out towards his brother. "Cross, come here."
Crosshair takes a step forward, then pauses, wipes at his eyes. He refuses to meet his gaze.
So, the sergeant takes matters into his own hands. He steps forward to meet his younger brother in the middle, pulling him into a fierce embrace. He clings tightly to the sharpshooter, who does the same, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. It's a rare moment of vulnerability between them, as they take comfort in one another after the many months of hardship and pain and loss. They both need this, Hunter knows- they both need each other.
He knows that he cannot even begin to make amends, not yet. Not when Tech's death is on his hands, not when he abandoned the rest of his squad afterwards. No, he will have to work for this, for their forgiveness. But this, this is something- Crosshair's silent willingness to let him try to right his wrongs, to make up for all he's done. It's a fresh start, a new beginning.
Clone Force 99 isn't a squad of soldiers, not anymore. They're a family, and only that. And now, it's time to rebuild, to pick up the pieces and start again.
Things start off slow. After the others get over him being back with them, Hunter checks in with each and every one of them. Wrecker, Echo, Crosshair, Omega. They're holding up better than he expects, though he shouldn't be surprised- Cut tells him it's been four months since they first joined his family on Lah'mu. He makes sure to thank the farmer repeatedly, for being there for him and his batch. His loyalty outmatches that of any normal reg they've ever fought alongside, and given Cody and Rex, that's saying a lot.
"I owe you, Cut. Thanks for taking care of them for me, for making sure they're getting better too. You didn't have to do that."
"I would never have done any less, Hunter. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again: You'll always be part of our family, no matter what. That'll never change." Cut tells him. "They missed you, by the way. It's good that you came back to them."
"Yeah, it's about time, too." He sighs. "Four months, Cut. I tuned them out for four months."
"That's not your fault." The farmer assures him, clapping him on the back. "Come on, let's find something to distract you from thinking like that."
Hunter will never forget the Lawquanes' hospitality.
At night, when he's not training with Wrecker, working in the fields with Cut, or discussing what'll happen next with Echo, Hunter's plagued by nightmares. The nightmares are of Tech's desperate voice over the comms, begging for help that cannot be given. They're of Boba Fett's threat, his promise to kill Tech if they don't arrive in time. They're of Tech falling, down into the icy abyss that is Mygeeto's surface. He wakes up sweating, clawing at his scalp, ripping at his beard, trying to fight off sobs as he comes to reality and can't escape those nightmares. Omega starts giving him Lula, hopeful that the stuffed Tooka doll will comfort him as it does her and Wrecker. It helps, a little. But the nightmares are always there.
"You need her more than I do."
He takes solace in Tech's old datapad, watching clips for hours on end. Crosshair joins him, sometimes, and Hunter knows that he can't sleep well anymore either. Hunter's greatest regret is that it took their youngest brother's death for them to finally connect, to grow closer to one another on a level that they hadn't thought possible between them. During the hours of the day, they still fight, still mock and bicker, and Hunter basks in the familiarity of it. Because he knows his brother means it as a throwback to their old dynamic, and doesn't wish to let go of the past any more than he does. They've never been closer.
"What do you think he'd say, if he was here?" Hunter asks.
Crosshair huffs softly, fondly amused. "He'd tell us to stop neglecting our sleep."
"Yeah." He smiles. "I guess he would."
When Wrecker's not playing with Omega and the Lawquane children, he and Hunter are side by side, training together, to get stronger, to ensure that they won't lose another member of their family. Sometimes, they even drag Omega over and start teaching her to fight- she's certainly getting old enough for it, and the rest of the Batch had already been training for years at her age. On rare occasion, even Cut picks up a spare blaster and fires a few rounds, tells them that he needs to keep his aim up in the off chance that someone, perhaps the Empire, ever does come for his own family. He's still a pretty good shot, too, even if he hasn't properly fought in years. Wrecker smiles again, now.
"Hey, Hunter, top that!" Wrecker challenges, grinning, as he points to his latest success.
Hunter meets his gaze steadily. "You're on."
Echo doesn't do too much himself, though he does check in on the others, just like Hunter makes sure to do. He's done his best, stepping up in Hunter's unexpected…absence. He's watched over the others, alongside Cut and Suu, taken care of them when Hunter was unable to. He's come such a long way from Skako Minor. Hunter's not sure there's anyone else who he'd rather watch his younger siblings. Echo, Hunter knows, is just like him. Echo's the version of himself that's lost everything and come back from it. They become partners in crime, and make decisions together, now, when it comes to the others' best interests. They look to each other for comfort, as the eldest siblings. And Hunter's grateful to have him.
"Hunter, you know we can't stay here forever."
"I know. Soon, Echo. Just a little longer."
"Alright…Just a little longer."
And Omega, she slowly begins to act young again. It takes some time. She's wracked with grief, still, as they all are. But slowly, she begins to play with Jek and Shaeeah again. She begins to find joy in playing games with them. Hunter even joins in, if only to bring out her happiness. Because she's a child. And she, like the rest of the Batch, has seen the devastation of war much too soon in her young life. She doesn't deserve that- neither did they. The best any of them can do is try to ease the burden on her, and that's a tough thing, after what happened to Tech. She begins to cling less to Wrecker, and more to him again. It's almost like before. But it's not like before, and he knows better than to hope it will ever be so again.
"Things aren't going to be the same anymore, are they?" Omega asks sadly.
"No, kid. Things are different now. But they'll get better, I promise." He swears.
The time to leave is drawing near. They cannot stay on Lah'mu forever.
Echo starts going over the damages done to the Marauder that he and Crosshair have neglected to repair since Mygeeto.
The day two before the Bad Batch's departure starts out a foggy morning, mist shrouding the beach and the rocky hills behind the house. Dawn is dark and quiet, save for the thin rays of golden sunlight that hit just the right spots in the mist, shining through to the beach, and the sound of waves rolling on the shoreline. The chill of night is still in the air, but it's really not all that cold. It's quiet and peaceful.
Cut and Hunter have taken to the beach early, delaying themselves the inevitability of heading over to the field and tending to the crops. Farming, Hunter's learned, really is a simple thing. It requires just enough effort to keep one from his own thoughts, but not enough so that he's overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work there is. He understands why the other man chose to take this as his profession after he deserted. A simple life, a peaceful life. Safer than everything the Batch has been doing for Cid, that's for sure. Oh, Cid is so going to chew them out when they finally return.
"Echo says that he's nearly finished the ship's repairs." Hunter mentions, the sand crunching beneath his boots as he walks at his companion's side.
"Has he?" Cut asks. "I guess that means you fellas'll be leaving soon, yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm going to give him a couple more days to finalize things first, maybe let him and Crosshair take her out on a test flight, just to make sure." He nods. "And then…Then you get your beach back."
"It's going to be quiet around here once you've gone. I was beginning to get used to it." He chuckles.
"Us, too."
"Where are you going to go?"
"Back to Ord Mantell." Hunter tells him. "We're going to need to build up our credits again, we were running low last time I checked."
"Hunter, if you ever need someone to talk to, you're welcome to fly by." Cut offers. "You fellas will always have a place here. Don't ever forget it."
"Thank you, Cut. You've done so much for us."
"Well, that's what brothers are for, whether on the front lines or on some remote backwater world like here."
"Yeah…You're a good man, Cut."
Hunter turns, casting his gaze back out towards the open ocean in front of them. The waves roll in lazily, through the fog. He takes a deep breath of the salt-scented air. His eyes flicker down to the black sand briefly, and when he looks up-
His breath catches in his throat. He can sense the curious, awed tilt of Cut's head beside him.
"Would you look at that?" The farmer murmurs softly, so that only he can hear. "Looks like he's not quite gone, after all."
The same white-armored figure from before is there, standing over the grave between the pair and the shoreline. His back is to them, but the shape of his armor is unmistakable. It's him, standing over the grave- his own grave- a transparency to his form. He almost blends in with the mist. Almost.
"Tech?" Hunter calls, unable to move, unable to think- is he even breathing? Because his little brother is here- his dead little brother is here.
The specter takes a pace back from the burial mound, half turns to face them. Behind the goggles, he slowly blinks at them in silent acknowledgment. Then he bows his head and steps back into the mist, vanishing as quickly as he'd appeared. And just like that, Tech's gone again, leaving the pair of men rooted to the spot in a stunned silence, staring at the place where he had been standing.
Why didn't he say anything? Hunter wonders if his vod'ika is upset with him. But, why? Does he want him to remain on Lah'mu? Then he remembers the blood-scrawled note in the Marauder and shakes his head. No. Tech would want him to move on with his life, to begin to get things done the way they used to.
"Hunter?" Cut inquires, sounding concerned. "You alright?"
He forces himself to nod, because he is not going to let himself sink again. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Cut." They both know he's lying. He jerks his head back towards the fields. "Let's go."
The farmer returns his nod uncertainly, and begins to lead the way.
Hunter follows, feet heavy. Because Tech's here with them. Tech's here, and they're going to leave.
I need to talk to him. One last time.
The fog is thinner, two mornings later, the sun brighter. The incoming tide is a bit quieter than usual. The Havoc Marauder is back in working order- her engines hum steadily, Hunter can hear them from where he slowly rises from his knees before the grave. He can also hear the rest of his squad bidding their farewells to the Lawquanes inside the house, following breakfast. The time to leave is upon them at last. But why, then, is Hunter dreading it more than he did a week ago? Talk to me, Tech. I don't want to leave without saying goodbye, not this time.
He rubs his hands together briefly, to warm them, and casts his gaze out across the shoreline one last time. It's where Tech was the first time he saw him, so perhaps that's where he will choose to appear to him this time. But all that Hunter sees through the fog is water and an endless horizon, reflecting the colors of the rising sun. Tech isn't there. Disappointment sinks into his chest, and he sighs, casting his gaze back to the battered, broken old helmet hanging on Crosshair's Firepuncher. I'll miss you, vod'ika.
The wind grows a little warmer and whispers something to him, startling him. He can't quite make out what is being said, but he certainly knows where it's coming from. His head turns towards the house, scans the perimeter. Nothing. The voice continues, more distinctively, and he recognizes not only the voice, but the words it says. It's really only one word, repeating over and over, like a mantra. Up. Up. Up.
So, Hunter looks up. His eyes scan the rocky mountainside, scrutinize every inch of it. He still almost misses the near-invisible figure sitting on one of the cliffs, watching him. It's him. Tech.
And his heart soars.
He makes a break across the sand, which slides beneath his feet, back towards the house and the cliffs behind it. The others are still inside, distracted, he can hear them. He's glad for it, too, because this is something that he knows he has to do alone. He locks onto the muted presence of his little brother. His wave frequency feels different, almost robotic, because there's no heartbeat to lock onto, nothing to focus on but the fact that he's there. And as much as it unnerves Hunter that there's no pulse to feel, he doesn't care- simply feeling his brother's presence is enough.
Hunter's always been the fastest runner in the squad. It doesn't take him more than a minute to reach the beginnings of the mountain, leaving dust in his wake. He doesn't even pause to regain his breath, sets straight into clawing up the rock.
He's good at climbing, too. Not as good as Crosshair, who's been specifically trained in the skill so that he can get to the most efficient sniping spots, but he's still better than Wrecker and Echo are at it. Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Repeat. Quick and light, or slow and secure. Those are the two different methods he's been taught. He goes with quick and light today, because he so desperately needs to speak with his brother, so desperately needs to hear his voice in anything but a recording or a dream. Hand, foot. Hand, foot. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
He climbs faster now, and it's almost as if he's running up the wall. Hand, foot. Up. Hand, foot. Up. Repeat. Faster, now. Faster. Almost there…
"Stop, breathe." Cut soothes.
He takes a deep breath, doesn't stop moving.
The specter peers down at him curiously, mere yards above him now. "You are going to fall if you do not slow down."
An image of himself falling from the Mygeeto city's platform in his little brother's place flashes before his eyes, and, this time- hand, foot, halt. That's nowhere in basic climbing training.
"I did not tell you to stop moving." The figure sighs, stretches to reach an arm out to his position on the side of the cliff. "Here, take my hand."
Hunter hesitates, staring at the transparent hand offered. As a long moment of silence passes between him and the man above him, he becomes aware of his ragged breathing and the pounding of his blood in his ears, the aching of his muscles as they strain to keep their hold on the rock. Finally, he releases one hand and raises it up to clasp the one stretching downwards to him. Transparent or not, his brother's grip is firmer than ever. He seems to have more strength now than he ever did in life, for he pulls Hunter uptop to his perch with little difficulty.
"You got…stronger." The sergeant pants, struggling to sit up.
Tech chuckles, sitting back, legs crossing in front of him in a pose not unlike that of a meditating Jedi. "It would certainly seem so."
His little brother offers no other words, instead silently gazing out over the dark beach and the sun-kissed waters. His eyes are bright behind his goggles. He looks happy, as at peace as the planet is. The front of his white helmet glows in the golden light of the sunrise. Hunter stares at him, his chest constricting painfully with an unnamed emotion. He has never seen his vod'ika so at ease. He'd always feared the regs, being decommissioned, losing the others, of not being good enough- and here he is, so in tune with the planet of Lah'mu. Why must he be happier in death than he was in life? But the longer Hunter looks at him, the more he can see the underlying sadness. No, his brother is not only happier, but he's sadder too.
"You are leaving." It's more of a statement than it is a question.
"Yeah. We've got under an hour left here." Hunter could never lie to him. "Didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye this time. I miss you, Tech. We all do."
"I know." His brother assures him. But that's all he says. He watches the waves.
Hunter fights off a surge of frustration at the lack of a response. It's as if all the progress that Tech has made at expressing his emotions has gone away. But he knows how to work his way around it, he's done it before. "Do you…Do you like it here?"
"Oh, yes. I have never seen such a remote planet. It is very different from anywhere else we have been. There is much to explore here."
"The guys were convinced you'd like it. Glad to see they were right."
The other man hums in response. "They are often correct in their observations, Hunter."
"They learned that from you." Hunter fondly teases.
"Of course, they did." Tech confidently responds. He falls silent for a moment, resumes in a more curious tone. "Did you get my message?"
He almost snorts. "Crosshair thought I stabbed myself."
"Now, that would be concerning." The younger clone remarks dryly.
Some things never change. Hunter shakes his head. "How are you here, Tech?"
"Well, since you have buried my body here, the planet...connected with it, and is allowing me to remain with the physical realm through some sort of Force projection." His brother explains.
"You mean…" He trails off, unable to supply himself with the correct words to explain the conclusion he's drawn.
"I am dead, but my soul is free to roam Lah'mu as it pleases." Tech elaborates.
Hunter nods in solemn comprehension. "What will you do?"
"What I have always done, of course: learn."
"You never change."
"I have no reason to." He simply says.
The sergeant smiles sadly, shakes his head in fond exasperation.
They both watch the ocean. Neither of them speaks or moves for a few more minutes.
Mygeeto's cold- the temperature, the wind, the emotion it brings.
"-It's alright, Hunter." Tech's voice is soft with understanding. "You can let go."
"I'm sorry." Hunter blurts.
"Whatever for?" His brother acts, tilting his head towards him. The soft light of the sunrise almost reflects off of his transparent visor. Almost. "For dropping me? I asked you to do it."
"I promised you that I would protect you, and I was the one to drop you to your death." His voice trembles.
"Yes. But it was on my request, Hunter. I do not hold you at fault for doing as I asked." He remains almost nonchalant about it. "I do not regret any of it. It was either me or all of us, you know that as well as I do. I simply made the decision for you."
Hunter bows his head. Because Tech's right. If he had been forced to make the decision himself, he and Tech would have fallen to their deaths, and the shuttle the others were in would have been destroyed as the others awaited their boarding. His youngest brother had chosen the lesser of the two evils, sacrificing himself so that the others could make it out. No, Tech's death is not his fault. It's not his fault, it's not Tech's own fault. Everything wraps back around to Boba Fett and the Empire, who had stolen the youngest Batcher in the first place. It feels as if a burden's been lifted from his shoulders, and he finally looks up again.
"Thank you, Tech." He murmurs.
"I am only speaking the truth, Hunter, as always." His brother assures him. Not that it's telling Hunter much of anything, with that kriffing helmet covering everything but his eyes. He needs to see his face, if only for a moment, needs to see if his brother is as torn as he is over the Marauder leaving and his inability to follow. He needs to know how his little brother feels about being left behind. His little brother, whom he loves more than most. His little brother, who had taken the fall to save him. He needs to know if his little brother's heart is as broken as his is.
So, Hunter leans forward a little. His brother is just within reach- not close, but not far. He grips the other clone's shoulders, turns him to face him. He registers the mild surprise in his brother's golden-brown eyes, offers a small smile as he pulls their foreheads together. Hunter's nose bumps the duraplast of the white helmet opposite him, and it's just like that night by the gravesite. And this time, Tech's actually here.
"Mm, this is nice." The engineer murmurs.
Hunter's hands move up, latch onto the bottom lips of the sides of his brother's helmet. Though his eyes are closed, he still lifts up on the helmet, tugs it from Tech's head and rests it on the cliff beside them. He doesn't feel the warmth of a living being, his brother's breath ghosting across his chin. He opens his eyes and-
He jerks back, eyes wide. "What the…?"
Because behind the goggles, Tech's eyes have been replaced with starless black voids, as has his nose. His brother's head is bare of everything, even skin. Hunter's staring into the face of a skull, empty eye sockets staring unblinking back at him, devoid of even a hint of personality. A shiver runs up his spine.
Tech flinches back with a soft huff, casts his gaze at the ground. Whether to hide it or avoid eye contact, Hunter's not sure. "Ah, yes, I have not quite mastered this yet. My apologies, Hunter. I should have warned you."
Hiding because he's scared I'll turn away from him because of it, Hunter realizes, a pang in his heart for his brother. "No, no. It's alright, vod'ika." He quickly soothes. "I'd rather see you like this than not at all."
His brother snorts, but there's no humor behind it. The sound is hollow, as empty as his eye sockets. "I very much doubt that, Hunter. But I do appreciate the sentiment."
The sergeant scowls, knowing he'll regret whatever choice he goes with either way. "Come here."
He hooks his fingers around Tech's jaw, tries not to focus on the texture of bone, and pulls their heads back together. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. His brother gives a sound of nervous amusement, but doesn't fight to pull away from the embrace. Hunter feels his chest tighten, and he lets out a shuddering breath. But he doesn't let himself cry. He can't- not here, not now. He pushes down the feelings, holds himself together. He's going to enjoy what may possibly be his last moments with his brother.
He hears a door close in the distance, at the house at the base of the mountain. No. No, please…It's time to go. The others are heading for the ship, ready to leave.
"You should go." Tech murmurs.
"I know." Hunter quietly returns. He hesitates to move. "Will you be here, the next time we come back?"
"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else." His brother promises, and Hunter feels the gloved, boney hand that sets itself on his wrist. "Take care of them, Hunter. And of yourself."
"I will." He vows. "I will."
Someone calls his name in the distance. It sounds like Crosshair.
Tech lets out an amused breath. "Go, Hunter."
"I'll see you soon, vod'ika, I promise." He releases his hold on his brother and leans back, rising to his feet. Every fiber in his body screams for him to stay, to stay with Tech. But he can't. There are others who need him, more than Tech does.
His brother gives a firm nod, and Hunter wonders what emotions would have been painted across his face, glowing in his eyes. So much has yet to be said between them, and they both know that it will remain unsaid, at least until their next meeting. The younger clone reaches for his helmet and tugs it back on, turns to look out over the scene below again.
It's Hunter's cue to leave. He swallows and heads down to a softer slope that he should be able to slide straight down the mountain on. He casts one last glance at Tech, lowers his head, and moves to position himself for the slide.
"Oh- and, Hunter?" His brother calls his attention. His eyes twinkle with mirth behind his goggles. "Take care of my ship."
Hunter smiles. "Don't worry. She's in good hands."
Then, he lets go.
.
Cut's waiting for him at the bottom of the slope, a knowing look in his eyes. He doesn't comment on it, though, and they make their way to the sunrise-silhouetted Marauder together, side by side. The thrumming of the engines is a soothing sound. He can hear the others bickering within the hold, and his lips quirk up slightly. They're ready to head back out into the galaxy.
"Well, I guess this is it, then." Cut says, bringing them to a halt just a few yards from the ship. "I wish you fellas luck out there. The galaxy's a dangerous place these days. Think this might be the only safe place left." He lowers his voice. "Just don't forget that you're always welcome to stop by, if you need to see him again."
"I'll try not to make it too often." Hunter teases, smiling lightly at him.
The farmer returns it, shaking his head in fond amusement. He looks back up, meets the sergeant's gaze with a promise. "We'll take care of him."
"I know. You always have." He gratefully replies. "Thank you, Cut."
"Don't mention it. You take care of Omega and the boys, Hunter. Take care of yourself, too. And don't lose sight of what really matters." Family. Each other. Being happy. "You boys deserve to find some semblance of peace, and I hope you can find it out there."
"It's a big galaxy, but…if it's out there, we'll find it."
"Then, I wish you all the best of luck."
The sergeant raises an arm between them, hopefully. Cut smiles and reaches out to clasp it, just the way Hunter would with Commander Cody during the Clone War. Their eyes meet, and the farmer gives him a firm nod, silently encouraging him that everything will be alright. When their arms part, Cut turns to head back to the house, and Hunter begins climbing the steps up into the Marauder.
He feels a set of eyes watching him from the mountain the whole time.
It's a long flight from Lah'mu to Ord Mantell, even with hyperspace travel. The first day slowly ticks by. It's different, being aboard the Marauder without Tech. Normally, even Crosshair's unaltered ears would be able to pick up the sound of their youngest brother explaining some of the controls to Omega in the cockpit. But now, their watch hours have shifted, and Tech's voice no longer fills the space of when his old watch would have been.
They all borrow his datapad, now. Sometimes, Omega'll watch clips from their cadet days, Wrecker beside her with his commentary. Echo uses it to finish some of Tech's uncompleted projects, for notes had been left behind for most of them. Crosshair and Hunter have been using the thing each night since the sergeant came back to them, watching almost anything, sometimes one without the other- this is one of those nights.
Tonight, Crosshair's finally watching what he has been both wanting and dreading to watch since Mygeeto- six months ago. The fall. He hasn't dared to even suggest watching it with Hunter, because they really don't need him to relapse back into his state of lifelessness. They've just gotten him back, after all. He waits until Hunter finally drifts off in his own bunk, across the room. He even considers giving his ori'vod a sedative to prevent him from waking up, but Cut had used them all on the sergeant in the first few months on Lah'mu. It's something else they'll have to stock up on once they have enough credits to. But Crosshair can't wait any longer, he's already waited kriffing half a year to watch it. So, he does, even as he knows he'll regret it.
He starts the recording about halfway through the battle on that back platform.
Tech ducks back behind cover, the crates shuddering behind him as they take fire. He glances up at Hunter, who's popped up in turn.
"How're you holding up?" The sergeant asks.
"Just fine." Tech says.
"Don't worry- if your plan works, we'll be far from here in no time." Hunter doesn't sound very certain of it.
The engineer pops up, and the camera picks up the crimson beams flying across the battlefield, the regs flying back as their armor catches them. "That would be nice."
Then the doors behind them are opening, and the pair glance at each other in surprise. In the distance, Crosshair's cursing at the sight of reinforcement Empire troops pouring from within the facility. The camera jerks to the other side of the platform as Tech seems to realize that they're completely and utterly surrounded, left with nowhere to flee. He freezes, gaze tilted towards the ground as he tries to come up with a plan.
A volley of fire comes from the regs behind them, and Tech doesn't seem to notice. The red bolts cut close, and maybe they all missed- Tech chokes, suddenly, his blaster clatters to the durasteel plating below as he slumps back against the crates. The camera angle shifts, catching the fading orange of a blaster wound that's just missed Tech's chestplate and embedded itself in his left side. The audio picks up his raspy breaths.
"Tech, get up!" Hunter barks, voice strained with effort. Then, he curses. "Tech, Tech, listen to me! You need to stay awake!"
But the youngest Batcher doesn't respond. In fact, the angle of the camera is beginning to loll to the side with his head. Then, there's a new sound being picked up, and his head jolts straight up, points towards the sky. Green Mandalorian armor, flying right towards the battlefield. His arm jerks to life, rising up to reveal the bounty hunter's position to his brother. "Hunter! Look out!"
As soon as he sees it, Hunter wastes no time in slamming on his comms. "Get away from the crates! Make for the shuttle! Now!"
"Cross?" Hunter stirs in his bunk, his enhanced senses having no doubt picked up on the datapad's frequencies and pulled him from his slumber. "What are you watching?"
"Does it matter?" He returns, his tight throat protesting- kriff, he's on the verge of crying and he hasn't even reached the worst of it yet. His fingers unfreeze and fly to tap the pause controls.
The sergeant sits up, sounding more awake. "You're watching what happened on Mygeeto."
Crosshair swallows, narrows his eyes. "So?"
Hunter sighs, rises to his feet. He walks the short distance to the sharpshooter's own bunk, sits himself down next to him.
Crosshair hesitates. He's spent so long avoiding watching this because of Hunter, because he doesn't want to lose his brother to his mind again. And yet, Hunter's inviting himself to come over and watch it. He would like for his older brother to stay beside him, watching this clip, but…It's not a good idea. Another time, he tells himself, moving to tap the button that will take them back to the main list of files.
But Hunter's hand grabs his wrist, stops him in his tracks. "Crosshair, it's alright. I think I can handle it."
He raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"
The sergeant hesitates for only a moment, then nods. "Play it."
Crosshair reluctantly obeys.
Blasterfire sounds from above, as Omega, Crosshair, Echo, and Wrecker make a break for the Imperial shuttle in the middle of the platform. But still, Tech doesn't move, back in that dazed state of pain from the wound in his side. The regs split in all directions- some retreat inside, some chase after the Batch, some race to move the explosive-laden crate before it's too late.
Hunter tries to heave Tech up, to no avail, casts a helpless look at the crate. "Tech, we need to go!"
But Tech doesn't seem to hear him.
The first shot that hits the crate misses the charges, but the second and third ones definitely hit their mark. There's a deafening roar, and a blast of bright orange lights up the air. The platform shakes as beneath the explosion, the force blasting everything too close away from it. That includes Tech and Hunter.
The sergeant lets out a sound of alarm as he's thrown from his feet, Tech cries out in pain at the jarring of his abused body. Debris and crates fly through the air, mixed in with the smoke and angry flames. The right side of the screen is tinged black, the camera singed by the scorching heat. Tech's limbs limply hang in the air in front of him, though he squeezes on Hunter's hand when it clasps his own. There's the sound of the sergeant's vibroknife unsheathing, and as the ground gives away beneath them, they suddenly jerk to a halt, swinging lightly, above hundreds of feet of open air.
The sounds of battle resume above, as the Empire's remaining troops snap back to action. Tech stirs from his daze, glances down for a moment. It looks so dark- so cold- down on Mygeeto's ice-spiked surface. Even Crosshair feels the unexpected tug of nausea in his stomach, and he's by no means afraid of heights. The camera angles itself back towards the sky, towards Hunter, who has stabbed his vibroknife into the edge of the top of the platform. He tries to lift them up, but the weight of two men is too much for him. He doesn't have Wrecker's strength- and Wrecker, like the rest of them, has no kriffing idea that they're hanging right over their doom.
"Hang on! I'm gonna get us out of this, Tech, I promise!"
Tech matches the volume of his voice. A rarity. Crosshair realizes that, at this point, his little brother already knew what had to happen. His burning eyes start to leak tears. "It's no use! You cannot lift both of us! Hunter, they need you." His voice softens. "Fly around to the Marauder and leave Mygeeto."
"No. N-Not without you." Hunter's struggling with himself. "It's going to be fine, Tech. We will get out of here, and you'll be right along with us. I-"
"-It's alright, Hunter." His voice is almost in the same tone he uses when the sergeant's suffering a sensory overload. "You can let go."
"No. I can't- I'm not going to. You're not going to die here!"
"...It's alright." He repeats.
"No...Don't do this." Hunter begs.
"I have to." Tech insists. "Take care of the others, Hunter."
And then he's twisting, wrenching free from the sergeant's grasp in what would have certainly been a painful gesture. He begins to fall. In comparison to the explosion, this fall feels far more gentler. And far longer.
"TECH!" Hunter howls helplessly, reaching for him, even though he could never possibly get ahold of him. "TECH!"
Crosshair stares for a long moment, transfixed. Then he wipes at his wet eyes, hissing in furious grief."Kriffing selfless di'kut!"
He doesn't fight Hunter's embrace as his brother reaches out for him and pulls him close, his bearded face burying itself into the sharpshooter's shoulder as his body shakes in near-soundless sobs. He wraps his arms around Hunter, too, tightens his hold under the older Batcher's desperate need for comfort.
The datapad is still playing.
There's the sudden, sickening crunch of bones and armor splintering against the planet's icy surface. A single, harsh exhale of air follows, and then all falls silent, with the exception of only the sounds of distant screams and blasterfire. Tech's dead the instant he hits the ground.
Small mercies. Crosshair swallows roughly. It's a funny thing, he realizes, as he buries his face in the crook of Hunter's neck. They could always trust Tech with any of their lives, but never with his own. He'd proved them right on that account time and time again, and, of course, that's why he would die. Tech had never feared death, never been afraid to leap in front of a blaster for any of them- it's happened so many times over the years, now. Crosshair wonders if his little brother was scared when he fell. No, he almost smiles, he was probably too busy thinking about us, the kriffing di'kut. Tech was bred for this life, but he wasn't meant for it. He'd always deserved better, to be able to learn without having to kill to survive. One of their greatest regrets will be the fact that he never really got that, that he had to fight every step of the way.
"If I ever see that kid again, I'm gonna kill him." He swears, even as his voice wavers. Because Fett deserves to pay for this.
Hunter doesn't reply, just holds on tighter. And guilt pricks at Crosshair's heart at how, before Fett, he had blamed Hunter for what had happened. No, what happened wasn't Hunter's fault at all. He was as much a victim of it as Tech was, simply left alive to tell the tale. They're all victims, two just more so than the rest. They were bred for war, and perhaps they will never escape that fate. Maybe Tech serves as the reminder of that, maybe this is the galaxy's way of mocking them for trying to get away from it. The galaxy always has been cruel to the Bad Batch, why should it stop now?
A shadow blots out the light in the doorway, and Wrecker shuffles into the bunkroom, clear of his watch in the cockpit. Crosshair can't muster the energy to glare at the brawler as he hesitantly approaches them. One solemn glance at the datapad tells the larger clone what he needs to know. He gingerly picks up and powers off the device, setting it on Tech's empty bunk, out of the way. Hunter stirs, lifting his head from Crosshair's shoulder to see what the disturbance is. His eyes are red, and Crosshair knows his look the same. Wrecker nudges Echo awake for the next watch, and the former ARC trooper is wise enough not to address how awful they must look before he leaves.
"I miss him too." Wrecker mumbles, kneeling down in front of the bunk and pulling them into a gentle, three-way hug. "But we gotta keep going. Ya know he'd want us to."
"I keep telling myself that, Wrecker, but it's harder than it sounds." Hunter murmurs into his chest.
"Eh, we'll figure it out." Crosshair manages a small shrug. "We always figure things out. It's what we do."
It's a surprise, really, that their usual landing spot is still open. Hunter will gladly admit that he expected Cid to have given up on renting it out for them after so long away. He half expects that to still be the case, but, when they step out of the Marauder, no one requests them to make any payments.
It doesn't feel quite right, docking here without Tech. The air is absent of his chatter about what their next mission could be, or what the group on their right may be talking about- as if Hunter can't hear their conversation himself. Everything feels so wrong, even as Wrecker hoists Omega up onto his shoulders with a laugh. Even as Echo begins to lead them to the parlor, the sergeant catches Crosshair's gaze and knows the sniper feels the same. How are they even going to explain where they've been to Cid? How are they going to explain why they've been away?
He wonders how Tech is coping with being kept away from them, tied to Lah'mu, by some cruel twist of fate.
Hunter almost forgets where to go, what streets to turn on, it's been that long. But, after a couple of minutes, the Ord Mantell city begins to feel familiar again, and he slides back into the routine of the route, rising to the front of the group. He sees Echo relax a fraction at that. No doubt, the former ARC trooper still isn't entirely comfortable being in a position of leadership among them, even if he has been in that role for half a year.
In the rear of the group, Wrecker and Crosshair break out into their usual old banter, and Omega laughs when Wrecker inevitably backs down, at a loss for this round. It's almost like old times. Almost, because it never can be again.
Hunter scans the streets for any sign of a threat the rest of the way, tuning out all distractions, because Ord Mantell is still a seedy place to be. That much hasn't changed, probably won't, so long as the Empire remains away. If he'd ever want the Empire for anything, this would be it.
"Well, would you look who finally came crawling back." Cid doesn't offer them much of a greeting as they slip through the door and into the empty bar, yellow eyes zeroing in on them.
"Glad you missed us." Echo grumbles.
"I was beginning to think you all got yourselves killed, but then one of my contacts told me that they saw you on Mygeeto not long after you disappeared." The Trandoshan says. "I have no idea how you went six months with as few credits as you had the last time I saw you. Did you turn yourselves in for the bounty or something?"
"You wish." Crosshair snides.
"Wait." Echo cuts him off, turning back to Cid. "A contact saw us on Mygeeto?"
"That's why I keep renting that landing pad for you, wise guy. Figured you'd come back eventually."
"Who's the contact?" Hunter asks.
"He's a bounty hunter. Wouldn't give his name." She shrugs, unbothered, turning away.
A wave of anger tears up the sergeant's spine at the mere mention of a bounty hunter, but his teeth grind together because he knows the bounty hunter has to be Fett. The others stiffen behind him, sharing uneasy glances. This could very well be their chance to confront the kid on his actions. He owes them something, even though that may not be his own life, in return for what he'd done. They have to take this chance while it's available to them.
"What're the chances it's him?" Echo mutters in Hunter's ear.
"Oh, you know him?" Cid asks, almost surprised, halting in her tracks halfway to her office.
"Know him?" Crosshair seethes.
"He killed Tech!" Wrecker's voice can't seem to decide whether to be a low snarl or a higher choke of sadness. He clutches Omega closer to his chest. Almost mumbling, he adds,"'Course, we know who he is."
"Wrecker." Hunter tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks on the last syllable. Don't.
"Gee, I'm sorry." Cid softens up at them. "I thought you left him to fix up that ship of yours again. I didn't think he was dead."
"Like you care." Crosshair hisses, his temper flaring up again.
"Crosshair. That's enough." Hunter orders, glaring the sniper down until his gaze shifts to the floor. He turns back to Cid. "Where is he?"
"Didn't say."
"Echo? When we were trying to track him, did you find anything?"
"He's in charge of a group of bounty hunters called the Krayt's Claw. They're based on Tatooine, but, if you think it's bad here..." The former ARC trooper trails off, the silence speaking for itself.
"So, we ask him to meet us somewhere else." Hunter muses, nodding.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Cid protests, arms waving. "I'm not helping you guys with a murder plot."
"Murder plot?" He echoes, eyebrows raising. "We're not going to kill him-"
Crosshair cuts him off with a snarl, lunging across the room in an instant. He seizes the Trandoshan by the shoulders and pins her against the nearest wall, baring his teeth with a ferocity that only he and Hunter have. He hasn't quite learned to respect their hirer as the others do.
"Crosshair!" Hunter snaps, racing to pull the sharpshooter away from Cid. Maybe they will end up killing Fett, maybe they won't, but Cid doesn't deserve the wrath of any of them. "Are you out of your mind?"
The last time he asked his brother that question, he had been out of his mind, thanks to his inhibitor chip.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"We should've killed that Jedi."
Crosshair falters for a moment, but doesn't release his grip on the Trandoshan. There's no chip controlling him, not this time- that would be emotion.
"Cid's right." Omega quietly speaks up. "We shouldn't be doing this. Because if we do, it won't make us any better than him. And Tech would want us to be better."
"The kid's got a point." Wrecker rumbles in agreement.
Hunter can sense Echo's nod, fixes his own pointed glare on their sharpshooter.
"She's calling the shots, now?"
Crosshair whips around with a hiss, releasing Cid as quickly as he'd grabbed her. He doesn't meet any of the others' eyes as he stalks for the exit, irritation radiating off of him so intense that Hunter's legs feel weak. He wants to say something. He wants to yell after his brother, to tell him to control himself. But he can't, because he's guilty of being unable to control himself as well. For a whole four months. No, it wouldn't be fair of him to call the sniper back.
"Wrecker." He says instead.
The larger clone sets Omega down on her feet, gives a sturdy nod. "I'll go after 'im."
He turns and follows after their temperamental brother, his broad shoulders raised with purpose- and, maybe, preparation to drag Crosshair back, if need be. It falls silent in his wake.
"Sorry about him." Hunter turns back to Cid, more than a little humiliated by the scene that had just played out. "We've all been…struggling. It's been difficult to keep our heads pointed forward since Mygeeto." He sighs. "He'll come around."
"He's been prickly ever since you first brought him down here." The Trandoshan waves it off, rubs at one of her arms. "But, don't worry, I get it. You lose someone, you take it out on everyone else. That's how it always is."
"You've...lost someone?" Echo quietly asks.
"Who hasn't?" Few truer words have ever been spoken.
An unbecoming silence floods the parlor in a heavy wave of uncomfortable sorrow, the weight of each's own lost dragging at their shoulders and their hearts. Hunter doesn't know why he's bothered so much, because he's spoken with Tech since his death, a feat which should certainly be impossible. None of the others have. They don't know he has, and guilt pricks at his heart at the betrayal he would certainly find in their faces if they ever found out. Should he have told them, before they left Lah'mu? Is he right in keeping it from them? Why the kriff hadn't he thought to ask Tech what he would think of the others knowing he still has contact with the physical world?
He huffs out another sigh, shakes his head. "You got a job for us?"
"I always have a job for you boys." Cid assures him. "But I think we could all use a drink first."
No one voices any disagreement, and they are sure not to let Omega drink any of the alcoholic beverages.
In the first month of returning to work, Crosshair remains bitter. The others are uneasy around him. Cid sends them on two missions in this time, the first of which they fail completely. She waves it off, but tells them to do better. Nights are lonely again, but he knows it's of his own doing. Attacking their employer doesn't give him any good reputation points.
"Crosshair."
"Go away."
In the second month, Cid sends them on three missions. She's significantly reduced how much she wants them to repay their debt for the spaceport bay, but Crosshair suspects that it's more out of pity than compassion. And the debt is still a lot. His anger begins to subside, and the others are less hesitant in his company again. He and Echo resume Omega's flying lessons between missions, and she's coming to be nearly as good as Tech was- a lot better than the rest of them are. Crosshairs knows he'd be proud of her.
"I wish I could fly that straight!" Wrecker jokes.
In the third month, they complete another three missions. Omega even has to help them fly out in a quick escape from one of them, and she barely hesitates. She may have been raised differently than they were, but she's a clone, and clones were bred for this. Crosshair finally finds it in him to apologize for his actions on that first day back to Ord Mantell, and Hunter is more than willing to forgive him.
"Hey, kid, get up here and push that lever forward."
"Coming, Crosshair!"
In the fourth month, they pay off their debt to Cid. Hunter discreetly tells him that it's mostly Omega's doing, beating all of the bar's patrons at dejarik. He doesn't believe it until he sees it, and he's beyond impressed when he does. They meet Rex again, and he tells them that he and a couple of the rescuees are heading out, to live under some semblance of peace on the remote planet of Seelos. He doesn't say why he chose Seelos over Lah'mu, and they don't ask. Echo almost goes with him, but ultimately chooses to remain among the Batch.
"You know, maybe you weren't wrong about her." He finally says to Hunter.
The sergeant beams at hearing those words, and Crosshair almost takes them back just to see how he'd react.
In the fifth month, they finally start to build up credits again. Not enough to buy the necessities, but it feels good not having to rely on Cid. Crosshair finally takes the time to think about Boba Fett, of revenge, and realizes that maybe he just doesn't need to kill to feel better. It's not like it would bring Tech back anyway. He misses his brother, now more than ever. He misses listening to information that makes as little sense to him as it does to Wrecker. He'd give anything to hear it again in real time. He wonders what Tech would say to that. Maybe he'd tease him about going soft in his old age. Wrecker does it.
"Ha! You're going soft, Cross."
He tries to deny it, but even he knows that it's true. "Am not."
In the sixth month, Omega officially becomes their designated pilot. Echo steps down from copiloting alongside Crosshair, who becomes Omega's copilot. They make quite the team together, and he's rarely seen Hunter so happy since Tech's fall. Something warms in his own hardened heart. Things are looking up again.
"Admit it, Cross. You and Omega make a good team."
"...Sure. She's not all that bad, for a kid."
"Glad you finally warmed up to her."
.
And then, it's time to return to Lah'mu.
"There's...There's someone you all need to meet." Hunter tells them.
Crosshair really must've gone soft over the past few months, because he's filled with too much emotion, and resentment is not at the top of the list.