Summary: Sequel to Snuffing Out The Flickering Light. Hunter's family has fallen apart, as has his reality. His youngest brother is dead. The others have changed in their grief. He was supposed to protect them, supposed to protect him. And he's failed. What kind of a leader- what kind of a brother- does that make him? Certainly not a good one. One-shot.
A/N:
Inspired by:
- RosePointe's All The Broken Stars
- wwheeljack's Frozen Pines series
Again, this piece borrows scenes from my Tech & His Goggles series.
Part three (finale) coming soon.
When The Stars Burn Out
A black-scorched white suit of armor lays between the large spikes of ice sticking up from the planet's surface. The figure lays in a pool of a crimson liquid, a pool of blood that stains the solid ice beneath him. A modified Omicron-class attack shuttle hovers above, cables extending from her open belly. But down here, it's cold- so, so cold. The air is thick with grief-laced tension as four figures remove their harnesses and step away from the hanging cables. Their armor is black, painted that way, and sports the same worn, scarlet stripes that the white-armored man on the ground does, marking him as one of their own. One man, the leader, falls to his knees at the side of the body on the ground.
Hunter fights the bile in his throat as he gently lifts the broken helmet from his fallen brother's head, lays it aside. He tries to ignore the blood that dribbles from it. On the side of his goggles, the shining red light of the recorder is still on, the device still pulling through even as its owner lays dead. Behind the goggles on the pale face of his brother, lifeless brown eyes stare up at the platform of the city above them, where he had fallen from no more than an hour before. But the squad leader still reaches for his neck, the skin too cold, to feel for the pulse that he knows isn't there. He chokes on a sob, lowers his head to press it against his little brother's chest- against Tech's chest. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…
He scarcely hears Wrecker crumble to the ground behind him, sobbing himself. Crosshair sniffles, breathing harshly, and wipes at his eyes, looks the opposite direction of their brother's broken body. Echo's jaw hangs open, the flesh parts of his body tremble.
"W-What happened?" Echo's voice is anything but steady. "Hunter, how did he fall?"
Hunter gathers himself enough to say three simple, choked words. "I dropped him." I dropped him. I dropped him. I dropped him.
"Why?" The slightest hint of Crosshair's snide attitude bleeds through his pain.
"...He made me." The sergeant whispers into Tech's chest. He made me kill him.
If losing Crosshair to his inhibitor chip had been hard, losing Tech to death is unbearable. It had always been unimaginable, but now that it's reality…how can they possibly go on? How can he go on?
I'm so sorry, Tech…
Echo stares at the aged datapad in his grasp. A set of goggles lays in his lap, an attached device wired to the aforementioned datapad. Both items belong to the same person, and that man lays strapped to his bunk, never to move again. His eyes still burn, the tears still refuse to fall. His hand still shakes. It's still hard to breathe, hard to function. He wonders if this was how he would've reacted if he'd been around when Fives was killed.
But Hunter's taking it the worst. Worse than even Omega, who'd been forced to remain in the pilot's seat while the rest of them went down to the surface to retrieve what was left of their youngest brother. He hasn't said anything to anyone. The others talk little themselves, mostly about what their next move is, what they'll do to the Empire, to Boba Fett, in revenge for taking Tech from them. But as those conversations go around, Hunter sits. He sits and stares at the floor. He doesn't do much of anything else. Echo's not even sure he sleeps. Hunter was easily the closest of the Batch to Tech, and now that he's gone, it seems their leader's will to do anything is gone as well. Omega has to force him to eat, and Echo can see it weighing on her, dragging her down. She's mourning Tech too, and she's a child- a kriffing child. She shouldn't have to be the one to force Hunter to follow the simple demands of staying alive.
The datapad gives an affirmative buzz as confirmation of the file transfer completing, and Echo dully glances at it. He disconnects Tech's goggles from it, rises to his feet to go return them to their owner. Even in death, the youngest member of the Bad Batch more than deserves to be able to see.
When he enters the bunkroom, Crosshair's facing the wall. His breathing isn't audible with sleep. Wrecker's bunk is empty, because he's on hyperspace watch. Hunter sits on his own bunk, haunted eyes burning holes into the floor. The body on Tech's bunk is cold. Echo makes the job quick, not wanting to feel the lack of warmth to his brother's skin. But even with his goggles on, the youngest Batcher doesn't look any more alive.
Echo returns to the main cargo hold, pulls up the datapad. He hesitates. Because everything Tech has ever recorded is on the device, and that includes…He's not sure if he's ready to watch exactly what had happened, not yet. He's still haunted by Hunter's entrance to the shuttle, and by the sight of Tech's broken form. The medical analysis that he'd done on him still sticks with him as well- Echo doesn't think he's ever seen such a messed up body arrangement.
Echo and Crosshair are sitting side by side, piloting the shuttle together. Wrecker's holding Omega back from the door, his jaw set grimly. They're beginning to take off when Hunter bursts in, tense and wild-eyed.
"Get us to the Marauder!" He snaps.
"Aren't we missing someone, Sarge?" Wrecker observes.
"We can't just leave him to fight kriffing Fett and the regs alone." Crosshair hisses. "Wasn't he injured?"
"You heard me!" Hunter snarls. "Get. Us. To. Our. Ship."
"Hunter?" Omega's voice is small.
"Where's Tech?" Echo repeats, masking his dread with his ARC trooper tone.
The sergeant refuses to answer. "Listen to me…"
They don't. The ship jolts beneath the regs' blasterfire.
"Tell us where he is, then we'll consider it." Crosshair growls.
"He's down on the surface." Hunter says quietly, not meeting anyone's gaze.
The others stare at him in muted horror. "He's where?"
Echo never does really watch any of the files.
.
The Hunter-Echo-Crosshair council has reformed into the Echo-Crosshair-Wrecker council, in which they're as lethargic and hopeless as they were the first time around. None of them have the energy to put much thought into anything other than surviving, remembering to remind each other to eat, asking each other how they're holding up. They talk of Hunter, but no one has any idea how to pull him back to reality. Right now, they talk about the burial. It's been a couple of rotations since it happened, and they can't keep Tech's body aboard the Marauder with them forever.
"Was there anyplace he seemed to like more than the rest?" Echo asks. He's always the leader, now, with Hunter lost within himself. At least, being an ARC trooper once, he has the experience needed. But it doesn't matter when no one else is really there.
"He liked Kamino." Wrecker mumbles. He's staring at the floor like Hunter does now. He doesn't smile anymore.
"We all liked Kamino, Wrecker." Crosshair lamely responds. He sounds more sad than bitter when he makes his comments now. His once-proud shoulders sag everywhere he goes. "But we're not going to drown the best swimmer in the squad."
"Can't do much more to 'im…"
"What about Cut and Suu?" Echo suggests. Because the others don't seem to have any ideas, and Tech deserves to spend his eternal sleep somewhere familiar, whether that be in a place he knew or people he knew. And they'd all enjoyed being in the family's presence, even if Cut's a deserter. He reckons that it's as good a call as any.
"What about them?" Crosshair asks, not very interested.
"He seemed pretty close to them."
"Cut brought him back from a panic attack the first time Hunter almost bled to death. They've been pretty close since. Probably because he's a parent- they're used to all that comfort stuff."
"How're we gonna find them?" Wrecker quietly points out. "Haven't seen them since right after Crosshair…"
Echo shrugs. "We still have contact with Rex. Maybe he'll know."
"Hate to rely on a reg, but maybe we should try to get him to stay. He's probably the most competent out of any of us anyway. He'll probably know how to bring Hunter back from dreamland." Crosshair proposes. His voice softens in sorrowful approval. "Not that you're not doing a bad job, for a reg."
"Well, someone has to make sure things get done around here. I always was known for that, even in my cadet days." He replies.
"Guys, we gotta follow orders. Come on…"
"Personally, I like that it's so quiet out here. I can catch up on the reg manuals."
"Shouldn't you be watching your scope, Hevy?"
"Yeah, sure. Let's call in Rex. I miss him anyway." Wrecker doesn't particularly sound invested in the idea, but it's something. And something's better than nothing, especially now.
Cut's known that Clone Force 99 would seek him out eventually. After all, they kept in contact throughout the entirety of the war against the Separatists. But there's something different about this time, something in their voices that hits differently than usual. The usual upbeat energy isn't there, but instead drowned in sorrow. Something's wrong, he knows. Something is drastically wrong.
"Hey, Cut, it's been awhile." Echo greets, looking everywhere but the holodevice. "We were wondering if we could…come by, spend a rotation or two at your place. Not long, though…Rex says Lah'mu is a pretty private planet, and we don't want to invade or anything…"
"Stop rambling, you sound like Hunter." Crosshair mumbles, his words falling flat.
"Hey, no worries, fellas." Cut assures them. "You're always welcome here, you know that. Jek and Shaeeah have missed Omega anyway. Seeing another kid'll be good for them."
"About that…this isn't one of those visits. Things are a bit off around here. We just need somewhere to lay low and gather our wits again. Will you be alright with that?"
"I understand. I'll warn the kids to tone it down this time."
"Thank you, Cut. Really."
He ponders over the cryptic words that Echo and Crosshair had given him, as if they were trying to keep something from him, or trying to keep themselves together. Perhaps both. He knows what a torn man looks like when he sees one. He's been there before himself. He'll never forget Geonosis, the pain of deserting so many good men for his selfish desire to be happy. He doesn't know Echo as well as he does Crosshair, but it's not hard to tell that even he is struggling. Cut had made sure not to ask why Hunter wasn't the one contacting him, because Hunter's always the one to do it. If Hunter's dead, they wouldn't want him asking about it. He wouldn't want them asking him if Suu died either. So, he made sure to respect their privacy, let them answer as cryptically as they wanted. Cut's spoken to Suu about it, and she had responded by expressing her agreement with his lack of questions. She's always supported him, never forced anyone into anything. It's one of the things he loves most about her.
.
Cut is anything but prepared when the familiar old shuttle touches down on the black sands of the beach. The hatch lowers, and it's a long time before anyone disembarks the ship- he makes it a point not to approach it himself. Echo'd said that they want things quiet, and so it'll be that way. Crosshair's the first to leave the ship, walking straight up the beach towards the house. He shoves past Cut without even a nod of acknowledgement, his sharp eyes downcast.
The farmer's heart stutters and his breath catches in his throat when Wrecker steps from the ship, a limp body in his arms. His eyes widen in disbelief at the sight of white armor. He'd been worried that Hunter's dead, when all along it's Tech who death has dragged down into her clutches. He still remembers the fateful day they met, how the knowledgeable clone had fallen into an fearful, uncertain mess on the floor of the barn, blood staining his goggles as he tossed them to the ground.
Tech's fingers are digging into his scalp, and Cut can't help but think as to how painful it must be, even if his gloves are keeping his nails from doing any real damage. He remembers how he had reacted similarly on Geonosis not that long ago, how he'd wished that someone, anyone would say something to make it all better.
And so, he crouches down beside him and pulls up the voice he uses to soothe Jek and Shaeeah after their nightmares. "Hey, hey, Tech. Listen to me. You hear me?"
He receives a half-sob in response.
"Okay. I need you to take a deep breath, alright?" Cut murmurs, gently resting an arm across the younger clone's shoulders. "You told me you're the medic, yeah?"
A nod this time, followed by a deep inhale of air.
"Good. Breathe." He encourages. "Hunter needs you. I know he doesn't look good, but you're the medic. You get up and patch him up, now, alright? He'll be just fine, I promise. I'll be right here with you."
That same Tech is dead. Just like the other boys in the gunship that had gone down on Geonosis on the fateful day that the war began. Cut stares. It's not until he catches Echo's gaze as the cyborg disembarks the ship that he realizes it and corrects himself.
.
"If there's anything that I can do for you boys, anything at all, let me know." He tells Echo when the trooper uncomfortably asks to borrow a shovel. "You fellas don't need to deal with this alone, I mean it."
"Could you…could you try to talk to Hunter?" Echo almost pleads. "He hasn't been himself since it happened, hasn't said a word to any of us."
"How long's it been?"
"Three rotations."
"What's he been doing?" Cut inquires, frowning, trying not to focus too much on the form of Omega sitting silently at the water's edge.
The other man looks hopeless, and his voice is flat. "Sitting and staring at the floor. Omega has to force feed him."
Hunter? "Yeah, I…I'll talk to him."
"Thank you, Cut. It means a lot, more than any of us can say. I just hope that you can get through to him."
He nods to Omega. "Is she going to be okay?"
"I don't know. None of them have lost anyone before now." Echo murmurs. "I guess I can only keep it together because I've lost everyone before."
"You're a good man, Echo, and you're doing a good job." Cut tells him, lightly patting him on the back in a way that he knows Hunter would.
"It doesn't feel like it."
"Not yet. But it will. You'll see."
.
Cut's never been aboard the Havoc Marauder before. He's only been on ships a handful of times since Geonosis, and even with Geonosis, the count is less than the amount of fingers on his calloused hands. There's a tightness in his chest as he walks up the ramp into the shuttle, where he knows he'll find a near-lifeless Hunter. Seeing Hunter bleeding out in the barn on Saleucami had been one thing, but this…this is so much more different. So much more heart-shattering. It feels a lot quieter than it should be aboard the ship, for even aboard the transport that had taken him and his family off of Saleucami, there had been words exchanged.
He does a full sweep of the ship, taking it in. It's definitely in disarray, objects and weapons strewn uselessly across the floor in the squad's grief. His heart aches for them all again, and for Tech. Hopeful, curious, young Tech. Tech, who would've scowled at the mess the others have left laying about.
Cut finds Hunter in the bunkroom, staring listlessly at the durasteel flooring. His eyes are bloodshot, masked with guilt and grief that Cut can relate to. There are dark bags under his eyes, too, and his greasy hair and beard are matted, his red bandanna crooked. Cut forces himself not to look away from the sight. Because he promised Echo that he'd do his best to pull Hunter from this lifeless state and back to his squad.
"Hunter?" He murmurs, coming to crouch on the floor at the sergeant's side. "It's Cut. How are you feeling?"
Hunter blinks, and it's only because he has to. He doesn't react at all to Cut.
"Hey." He gently prods. "Look at me."
He doesn't.
Cut sighs softly. "Your squad needs you, Hunter. Omega needs you. You need to snap out of it and come back to them. You're not the only one who misses him."
Still no reaction.
"Alright, I'm going to need you to lay back and close your eyes, okay? You need to get some sleep, Hunter." He advises, guiding the despondent soldier to lay down on his bunk. "I can get you a sedative, if it'll help."
Hunter doesn't move, stares at the bunk above his.
"Okay." Cut nods to himself. "Stay put for a second, I'll be right back." As if it'll be a problem.
He straightens up and leaves Hunter's side. His gaze travels across the bunkroom, scanning for anywhere that medical supplies would be kept.
"You told me you're the medic, yeah?"
Tech nods.
Cut finds a white pack that can only belong to Tech. It's mostly red-brown, now, stained with the dried blood that had come from its owner after whatever had happened. He hasn't asked how Tech died yet, doesn't need to push Echo to answer such a question so soon. He pops the bag open, rifles through it to pull out what he thinks is a medkit. Then he opens the medkit- it is a medkit- and searches for a sedative. Everything's labeled, separated from that of which it doesn't belong. Only Tech would keep them that organized. There's a small collection of syringes. Two are labeled as stims, two as bacta injections, three as sedatives. He grabs one of the sedatives, packs up the rest of the gear to leave it just as he found it. A red-brown coating of crusty blood sits on his fingertips when he's finished. He tries not to think about how it can't be anyone's blood but Tech's.
He returns silently to Hunter's side. The sergeant's eyes don't even flicker over at him as he takes his arm and pokes the needle between a couple of the armor plates. He injects the chemical easily, and takes a pace back. He waits until the soldier's eyes drift shut before he discards the syringe and makes to disembark the ship.
There's a datapad sitting on one of the crash seats that distracts him from that goal. He can't help but to feel drawn to it, and picks up the old device. He powers it on, and he immediately knows that it's Tech's. There's so much on it. He's not sure how to use the device, not really, and ends up looking at a list of holorecordings. He taps on one, pulls it up- just to hear Tech's voice one last time.
The camera's turning, as if Tech's looking for something and can't seem to find it. The Marauder is quiet, mostly evacuated of her crew. Crosshair's pulling on his helmet, Firepuncher in his hand, as he passes by to leave.
"Helmet." The sniper simply says.
"Ah." Tech spins around to the unpowered gonk droid, scoops the piece of armor off of it and slides it over his head, a flash of white briefly obscuring the screen. "Thank you, Crosshair."
Crosshair's already gone.
Tech huffs out a sigh, grabs his blasters from their holsters, and sprints down the hatch after him.
Cut wonders if showing Hunter a couple of the recordings will do anything.
.
Cut meets Echo on the way out, the ARC trooper returning with sand-coated armor and sorrowful eyes.
"Any luck?" Echo murmurs.
The farmer jerks his head away from the ship, and the cyborg follows him out. "I got him started off with a sedative. Doesn't look like he's slept in awhile."
"Not since before the bounty hunter took Tech."
"Bounty hunter?"
"Yeah. One of us, actually. Direct copy of the clone template." Echo says. He sounds tired, rather than angry. "The Empire put a bounty on us. We made an emergency landing so Tech could repair the nav computer. We left him alone on the ship. The bounty hunter took him before we could get back. He gave us a week to find him. None of us slept the whole time we were searching for them. Other than Omega and Wrecker. They were inseparable the whole time."
"Did you get to talk to him, before…?" Cut doesn't let himself continue beyond that.
The cyborg nods. "We did. Not much, and it was mostly about our plan of getting him away, but…we got to talk to him. He was jacked up on bacta and a stim, but he was there, if you get what I mean. He was happy to see us, happy to be with us. Still managed to plan most of our escape himself. It's funny. We went there to save him, but he saved us."
"I'm glad he seemed happy." He says, the sand sliding gently beneath their feet as they walk aimlessly across the dark beach. "He deserved to be happy. The rest of you do too. I hope it's something all of you can find, eventually. You've earned a long break from all this."
Echo laughs sadly. "I'm not sure there is a break from pain. Not in this day and age, not with the Empire out there."
"Maybe not." Cut murmurs.
They pause for a long time on the beach. They don't talk, but simply bathe in the comfort of one another's company. They watch the waves crash against the shoreline, reflecting the squad's inner turmoil. They watch Omega wring out her soaking blonde hair and eventually scoot back, falling to sit beside Wrecker at the burial spot, where Crosshair's Firepuncher is stabbed into the ground like a stake and Tech's battered old helmet hangs on the stock, empty. It's almost like staring at a skull. Cut can't look at it for too long, but he promises himself to come and pay his respects later, once the others begin to recover and return to themselves. Tech won't be going anywhere anytime soon. The living Batchers need Cut's help more, right now.
.
The sun's set, and the last traces of light are fading beyond the horizon. The air is growing cooler by the minute, the chill in the wind deepening almost as quickly. And Omega still sits at the grave, her knees tucked up to her chest, her gaze pointed towards the water. The others are inside. Crosshair's aboard the Marauder with Hunter, the rest of the boys are in the house with Suu and the kids. But Omega's just sitting out in the cold, alone. Suu's the one who points it out to Cut, sends him out to bring the girl inside.
He walks down the beach, a coat around his shoulders, another in his arms. The heat is one of the things he misses most about Saleucami. It was never cold there. He doesn't know if Lah'mu can really get warm, they haven't been here long enough to cycle through all of the planet's seasons yet. But, nonetheless, it's quiet and remote, and good for farming. That's all that matters to Cut.
He comes to a stop just behind Omega, drapes the spare coat over her shoulders. "You should come inside."
"I don't want to." She says.
"Why not?" Cut asks her.
"I want to stay with Tech." His heart breaks a little more at her words. "So that he's not lonely."
"It gets pretty cold out here at night. Tech wouldn't want you to be cold because of him." He murmurs. "Come on inside. Suu's cooking everyone up some cups of hot chocolate. I think you'd like that."
Omega doesn't protest, lets him help her up. "Don't forget about Hunter."
"We won't." He promises.
.
It's not long later that everyone's asleep, bundled up thickly in blankets. Wrecker and Omega are cuddled up together on the only couch. Echo's sleeping upright in Cut's chair, completely out. Jek and Shaeeah are upstairs in their rooms. Cut himself sits in one of the kitchen chairs, watching the slumbering squad. Suu's cleaning up in the kitchen from the large meal she had cooked them all earlier.
"One of them was killed." She speaks quietly, the question more of a statement than anything.
"Yeah. Tech." Cut admits, his voice equally quiet. "Wrecker and Echo buried him on the beach earlier. That's where Omega was when you told me she was still out there."
"What about Hunter?" His wife's voice twinges in concern.
"He's not taking it well. Crosshair's with him on the ship, just in case anything happens." He shakes his head sorrowfully. "Echo sent me in there earlier to try to talk him out of the hole he's fallen in, but…He's gonna take time, Suu. I think they'll be hanging around here for a while."
"Good. Let them." Suu surprises him in her response. "They obviously need it, and we have the time to give."
He smiles a little. "Sometimes, I don't know what I'd do without you."
Hunter doesn't know how long he sleeps, but he doesn't feel as empty when he wakes up. His heart still aches, he still can't think of anything but Tech, but there's a small warmth within him that gives him the energy to sit up again, to allow his eyes to keep away from boring holes through the floor. The next time Crosshair snaps at him to do something, to do anything, he genuinely does feel bad. But he still can't oblige that request, his chest is still too heavy. He's still drowning.
Tech's thin hand is warm in his own, while the rest of Hunter feels so incredibly cold. It's not the wind or the chill of Mygeeto's air that makes him feel so, but the sheer horror running through his veins, freezing his blood.
"Hunter, they need you." Tech tells him. "Fly around to the Marauder and leave Mygeeto."
"No. N-Not without you." Hunter can't breathe, and all he can do is squeeze his little brother's hand tighter and plead with him. "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 much too soft, much too accepting. "You can let go."
The galaxy feels like it's crumbling. "No. I can't- I'm not going to. You're not going to die here!"
Tech's eyes meet his own, seeing through his visor, all-too-knowing. "It's alright."
"No...Don't do this." He begs. He can't breathe. He can't.
"...I have to. Take care of the others, Hunter."
And then the warmth is gone, jerking from his grasp and getting dragged down, down, down by the clutches of gravity.
Hunter screams.
He presses his face into his hands, growls so harshly that his throat hurts. But it's not enough- nothing can express how he feels. Maybe that's why he hasn't been doing anything.
"Do you want Cut to sedate you again? I'm trying to sleep." Crosshair irritably snaps from across the bunkroom.
Hunter can't even utter a simple, one-worded apology. Words elude him, have since it happened. He remembers the effort it took to give the simplest explanation of what had occurred on the edge of that landing pad, of how much energy the surface of Mygeeto had sapped from him the moment he crumpled to his knees at his little brother's side. Even now, the same unbearable grief tears at his heart, pulling it further and further away from his mind, scrambling his insides until he sometimes doesn't know up from down, right from wrong. He doesn't know how the others seem to keep dragging themselves forward. He doesn't know how Crosshair still snaps at him, how Wrecker keeps walking, how Omega isn't sobbing all the time, how Echo manages to lead his shattering shell of a squad. As much as he envies them for it, for being able to continue with their lives best they can, he's angered by it. Tech kriffing died, and they still find it within them to go about their business each day, as if they still have a reason to do anything. He doesn't want to feel like this, doesn't know how to make it stop. He doesn't think it will stop. Tech is dead because of him. It's his fault. Tech had begged him to drop him, and he hadn't been able to deny him that request.
Sometimes, Hunter wonders what he would have done if he had been in the position that his vod'ika has been in, dragging him down, keeping him from climbing back onto the landing platform and racing to safety. And he knows what he would have done. He would have done the same as Tech. He would've begged his vod'ika to release him, to save himself. Tech had only wished to see them all safe. Hunter's not sure if that should make him feel better or worse about the whole thing. Tech gave his life for me. And what a waste that is. I can't even lead my own squad. Tech, I'm sorry. It should have been me. Because Tech would've found a way to function, if it had been him. Instead, Hunter's a waste of time and space, thinking of his dead brother over his living siblings. It's a hole he's stuck in, clawing at the sides with what little strength he has- it's a hole he can't climb out of. Because he doesn't believe he can. Because he's putting all of his energy into keeping Tech's memory alive within his own.
.
Hunter's laying on his bunk, arm limply hanging over the side, when Cut visits again. He detects the sound of boots on the Marauder's floor, a weary rhythm to his step. He can sense the farmer's unease, feel the slightly-increased thump of his heart. Cut doesn't know what he's doing, not really, but he's not doing such a horrible job at figuring it out. Hunter's eyes flicker up to the door briefly when the deserter enters.
"Hey, Hunter." Cut's voice holds the same, soft tone to it that it did on his first visit. "You're looking a little better. You sleep well?"
It wasn't sleep, not really. But he does feel better.
"Still not talking to me, then?" He doesn't sound surprised, masks the disappointment well enough for anyone with normal senses not to detect it. But Hunter knows. "They, ah…they buried him yesterday. I think he'd like it here. Do you want to come out and see?"
The sergeant's jaw tightens on its own accord, his teeth lock into place. He makes no sound, because he doesn't remember how. Because the mention of Tech, even if not by name, is sending him into shutdown all over again.
Cut seems to realize he's said the wrong thing. "Ah, nevermind. Sorry, Hunter. Do you need anything? I'm here for you, you know. I want to help, but I can't do that if I don't know how."
His chest aches. I want my little brother back.
The farmer bows his head, holds something out to him. It's Tech's datapad. "I found this yesterday. I think he'd want you to have it. The others need you, Hunter, and he'd want you to be there for them."
No. I can't. I'll just fail them too, like I failed him. Echo's a better leader- a better brother- than I'll ever be. He won't fail them, he never has.
"Hunter? I'm going to leave this here with you, alright? Right here." Cut sets the datapad down on the other end of the bunk. "Whenever you're ready, it's here for you. The rest of us are here for you too, and we're willing to give you as long as you need. You're not alone, I promise."
Hunter stares at the datapad as Cut turns to leave the ship, his footsteps echoing in his wake.
.
He eats what Omega makes him eat, whatever'll stay down. He doesn't think he's ever hungry anymore. Every time he is, he thinks of how hungry Tech must have been when they had attempted to rescue him, and then his appetite is gone and he's dry-heaving. He scarcely notices how the youthful spark in the girl's eyes has gone out, like a star swallowed by the abyss of space. He knows he should do something about it. But he can't.
Cut always comes back, asking him if he needs anything, offering unwavering support. Twice more, he sedates him to aid him through some sort of rest. Hunter's not sure if it helps, but at least it keeps him from thinking.
When he finally makes the decision to reach out and grab ahold of Tech's datapad, he doesn't know how long has passed. Two days, a week, several months- he hasn't been counting the time. He knows Tech would give him the exact number of seconds it has been. He almost tosses the datapad to the floor, then remembers how much time his little brother had dedicated to the blasted thing. So, he holds it. Just like Wrecker holds Lula- just like Wrecker had held Omega during their restless search for Tech. It's at least twice as long before he finally decides to do anything with it.
When the screen finally does come to life, Hunter's fingers move of their own accord. They pull up the long list of clips of recordings from his brother's goggles. He knows what's among the files, that there's pain and death mixed in with everything else. It's a good thing that his fingers know to stray from such things, to fill the heavy air with banter and laughter and cheer.
Hearing his brother's voice does wonders to his cracked, beaten heart.
It's a late night, and they're almost all beginning to settle down to sleep in their barracks on Kamino. Wrecker's already out of it. Crosshair and Hunter are ready to call it quits. Tech remains bent over his helmet at the table.
"Are you even going to be able to get up tomorrow?" Crosshair, new to the squad at the time, sneers questioningly, rising to his feet and beginning to creep up on their youngest. "You do know that we have training in the morning, right?"
"Yes, yes, I know." Tech assures him absently, his fingers speed up a little in their work. "I won't be up for much longer, I am nearly finis- Oh, come on!"
The screen spins for a moment, before coming almost-still, pointing at the floor.
They're in the farmhouse on Saleucami, grouped inside the main living space downstairs. As Suu works at the sink, cleaning, Hunter sits himself down. Cut remains standing, and so does Tech, according to the level of his recorder in comparison to the deserter and Twi'lek's faces.
"Are you all still alive, then?" Suu asks, raising an eyebrow in silent demand of the truth.
"I don't think any of them can die, with Tech's medical expertise." Cut brags, pride in his voice, clapping a hand gently on Tech's shoulder. "He's the best at what he does."
"That may be a bit of an exaggeration." Tech sounds a bit flustered.
"Nonsense." The farmer insists. "Hunter was on death's door when you first showed up here, and I saw you practically bring him back from the dead."
"Come on, Tech, you know he's right." Hunter adds, a crooked smile curling at his lips.
When the footage starts rolling, revealing the slumbering barracks, Tech's almost halfway to the door already.
"Where're ya goin', Tech?" Wrecker questions, out of the blue. "You know, we're not supposed to be out."
The camera jerks as the youngest Batcher flinches. "Just to test something. I won't be long."
"Can I come with ya?"
"Only if you do not tell Hunter."
"Ya know, I won't." Wrecker promises.
There's a thud as something- Tech- falls from his bunk. His goggles are still rolling, for some reason, even though he doesn't reach for them. There's another thud, a muffled curse of pain a few moments later, as that turns out to be a mistake. The others mumble in protest.
"You still with us, Tech?" Hunter asks. They're heading from the hangar to the mess hall.
"Why wouldn't I be?" The screen shakes from side to side, almost violently, as if he's trying to wake himself up.
"You look tired."
"I am fine." He sounds a little more energized as he adds,"I think I have nearly finished with the repairs, actually, though I may still need another rotation- perhaps two- in order to make some final adjustments and perform some tests."
"Will you still be alive in two rotations?" Crosshair snarks, turning back to look at him.
"I am not going to drop dead from four rotations without sleep."
"Hey, Tech?" Echo asks, as the technician plays prosthetic doctor in the reg's first days following Skako Minor.
"Yes, Echo?" Tech's head doesn't turn, though the camera angle shifts up to the ceiling.
"Your goggles, what're they for?"
"Why, they help me see, of course. Each member of Clone Force 99 has been genetically modified. The Kaminoans tried to enhance my eyesight when I was a cadet, but the operation went wrong and left me with worse eyesight than before. But it's not something I like to talk about."
"Sorry." Echo awkwardly apologizes. "I probably should've told you that you didn't have to answer that if you didn't want to."
"It is only natural to be curious about things we do not know." Tech's voice doesn't falter. "You haven't done any harm."
Tech's explaining something to Omega as he works. The angle of his goggles doesn't reveal anything, for they sit uselessly atop the gonk droid.
"I believe that Echo will be pleased." He remarks.
The angle shifts, and suddenly Tech's face is in view, but from a further distance than it should be, the goggles on Omega's head. When Tech reaches over to grab them, not noticing their absence, he frowns and jerks his head up. His eyes flit around for a long moment before squinting and landing on her. He looks so uncertain, so clueless without them.
"Do you want them back?" She asks.
Tech glances over his shoulder at Hunter, who's lingering in the background, amused by the situation before him.
"No, that's alright, Omega." The engineer says at long last. "You can hold onto them for now."
"Nala Se's records say that your enhancement makes your memory better." Omega blurts.
The camera bobs with Tech's head, though the view is already directed to the ceiling. "Memory is critical to storing information."
"So, you remember everything?" She asks, in awe.
"Nearly." Unbothered, he leans forward in his seat to resume work on the Marauder's diagnostics system. "Some early memories elude me, but that is natural for all species."
"Better?" Hunter's asking, as Crosshair's face appears in front of the lenses of the screen, a hand reaching down to scoop up the goggles. They hang awkwardly at his side, but capture the moment nonetheless.
"Much." Tech rises from Wrecker's hold, stretches his limbs.
Hunter surges forward without warning, pulling his youngest brother tight to his chest. "Good."
Something lightens within him. He doesn't feel much better, but he does feel a bit different than before. So, he keeps watching. And watching. And watching. And he drifts off into sleep to the sound of Tech's voice.
.
He's surprised when he wakes up. But he feels more well-rested than he did under any of the sedatives Cut had given him. His heart feels a little lighter than before, just enough so that he feels more than unbearable pain, just enough so that he doesn't feel like he's drowning anymore. The datapad is pulled close to his chest, the device having automatically shut off while he was out. He carefully lays it aside.
He readjusts his position where he sits, sketches a little to restore the blood flow to his cramped limbs. Then his eyes land on the other wall and freeze. Because there are Aurebesh words painted onto the wall opposite him, Aurebesh words painted in blood.
Wake up.