Chapter 3 - Truth Is What You Believe In

Author's Note: Yeah, this chapter's gonna hurt. *sniffles*

~ Amina Gila

There aren't any troops in the hangar when they arrive, and it's a quick process to get their gear back on. Hunter keeps his lightsaber hilts in his hands, though, knowing that he'll undoubtedly need them when they go after Crosshair. It's them against the facility, and Tarkin might realize more of what they're capable of now. They can't take any chances. They don't know, for certain, what Crosshair did or didn't share, and for all they know, he could have reported about their vampire abilities as well.

It hurts to think that he could have betrayed them like that, sold them out, but he's still their brother, and it's not his fault. If they get him back, they can figure out how to handle it from there. "Tech, power up the ship," Hunter begins, stilling entirely when he senses the wave of incoming danger. Worse than that, Crosshair is coming, too, and he doesn't know what that means, much less what's happening to him.

Why is he coming here? With reinforcements, no less? He's… here to stop them, isn't he?

It's not his fault. It's not, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. It's still Crosshair, the brother they grew up with, the one who was always so quick to protect them when a threat arose. It was Crosshair who jumped to defend them, who, despite his sharp and hard exterior, is actually the softest of all of them. It's Crosshair, who's chosen to curl with one of them every single night since his turning, preferring the comfort of companionship and feeding over being alone. It's Crosshair, who is coming here to… what? Capture them again? Kill them?

Hunter has no idea, and even reaching out to Crosshair over their bond is met with a sharp, vicious mental shove. Stay in your own mind, he snarls at him telepathically, and Hunter withdraws, stung.

It's not really Crosshair, but it hurts like it is him, nevertheless.

The hangar doors open, and they all duck down behind the crates, knowing who it is without even having to ask. Tech darts up the ramp to fire up the engines, radiating feelings of determination and resentment. He doesn't look back, and Hunter can feel him going to the cockpit.

Wrecker makes a quiet, wounded noise. "Why is he doing this?"

"It's not his fault," Omega pipes up from next to Hunter. "He can't help it."

They all know that, but that doesn't make it any easier to face.

Crosshair is outfitted in all-black armor, helmet tucked under one arm, a rifle in the other. It's new gear because they have his aboard the Marauder already. He feels… cold. Empty. Angry. And it terrifies Hunter. Crosshair's anger has always been a weapon on their side, and he doesn't know what it will mean to have him against them, especially when he's a vampire, too. He could kill them. He knows how to do it, and Hunter doesn't want to think that Crosshair would go that far for any reason, controlled or not, but he doesn't know that. He hates that he feels the need to register him as a threat now, an enemy to be neutralized and dealt with accordingly. Stars, he can't hurt his own brother.

Behind Crosshair is at least a full platoon of regs, maybe more, but they're vastly outnumbered. Clearly, Tarkin isn't playing around, and it makes Hunter wonder if he does know about them being vampires. Or does he really think Hunter, as a semi-trained Force sensitive, is that strong?

The regs fan out, ducking behind crates, blasters held at the ready, and just by looking at them, Hunter knows that they'll never be able to get to Crosshair and get him out if he's fighting them. Yes, they can move fast, but not that fast, and if Crosshair is shooting at them, it'll be impossible.

Crosshair stands tall in the front, and slowly, Hunter stands to face him. He's the leader. He's the one in charge of them, the one responsible for protecting them. "Best stand down, Sergeant," Crosshair says, his voice hard and cruel, so unlike the softness to which Hunter has become accustomed after their transformations. "Make it easy on yourself."

"This isn't you," Hunter replies, shaking his head, his hands tightening on his lightsaber hilts as he opens himself to the Force fully, preparing to fight, no matter how much it hurts him to feel the darkness and death still saturating it. He needs to know the moment before the first blaster bolts are fired, so he can cover his brothers, the ones who he still has to protect.

"Isn't it?" Crosshair asks snidely, toying with the toothpick in his mouth, "You disobeyed orders. Letting the Jedi kid escape. Not dealing with those insurgents."

"It was the right thing to do," Hunter answers, steely.

"You're starting to sound like a Jedi," his brother sneers. His brown eyes are cold, emotionless, and it's so wrong that it makes Hunter's skin crawl just seeing it. He – if he can't get through to Crosshair – but actually, there is something he can do, something Crosshair would hate him for, but it's better than leaving him here, isn't it? "But you never could see the bigger picture. Now surrender. There's still a chance to make this right."

It's now or never, and silently, Hunter offers up the hope that Crosshair will forgive him. "Crosshair –" he says, letting a compulsion fill his voice, bidding his brother to obey, regardless of what he wants. Hunter isn't Crosshair's sire, but he is his older brother, his leader, the one he's chosen to follow, and he's done this before, by accident. Crosshair had been so angry at him, grumpy more like it, a little annoyed, but not genuinely hurt. Hunter's never done it again, not deliberately, and he can't quite bury the anxiety thrumming through his veins. He doesn't want to do this, but he doesn't know what else to do.

Crosshair's reaction is instantaneous, a momentary submissiveness flickering into his gaze as his posture starts relaxing, waiting for Hunter's commands, and it makes him sick to see it, because it's so wrong. This isn't how it's supposed to be between them. He isn't supposed to force Crosshair into subservience – how does this make him any better than the Empire? Maybe it'll bring Crosshair back to them, but the means are the same, and both ways, Crosshair is being forced to obey.

"Stand –" he begins, ready to say stand down, but then, Crosshair blinks, and his gaze sharpens again, a vicious, wild fury filling his eyes, flaring sharply down their bond and into the Force.

"How dare you," he snarls, whipping down his rifle and firing, half-blinded with anger. Keep your Jedi osik away from me, he yells through their bond. I'm not like the others. You can't make me your puppet.

Hunter is stung by the words, but he takes them, because he – he knows it was wrong, and he knows Crosshair isn't in his right mind. Still, he reacts instinctively, ducking the first blaster bolt from Crosshair, aimed at his head – he's trying to kill, isn't he? – his lightsabers igniting with a dual snap-hiss as he spins to deflect the following volley. Omega gasps from beside him, and he realizes then that she must not have realized or heard what he's capable of, but he can deal with that later.

First, he needs to get the rest of his squad, his family, his coven to safety. Nothing else matters. They can get Crosshair back… later, preferably when he's not trying to kill them like this, and when he's not so angry – not unjustifiably – at Hunter for trying to compel him.

Tech, we gotta move, he calls through their bond. Now!

Working on it, comes the reply, a certain urgent franticness to it. Crosshair?

Trying to kill us, he sends back grimly. He sends a flicker of the images of their situation, the regs and Crosshair shooting at them, primarily him, the way the others are trying to return fire, the strain in his muscles as he taps into the Force and his enhanced speed to deflect the blaster fire away from his brothers and Omega. In answer, he feels a numb sort of grief from Tech as it sinks in for him, too, that they can't get Crosshair out without someone being seriously injured, and Crosshair would never forgive himself if he shot one of them, even if they could heal from it with relative ease.

The regs toss smoke bombs forward, but that doesn't matter to Hunter. He can still sense them all, pinpricks of life in the Force, and no matter how rapidly he deflects the blaster bolts back at them, ignoring the way some are dying, they're still advancing. Hunter gathers the Force, shoving outward hard, sending crates flying backwards, and some of the regs, too. Crosshair sees it coming, and he ducks down, avoiding the worst of it.

Crosshair, please, Hunter calls, because he can try to convince him to stop while still fighting. He pauses for a millisecond while the regs regather themselves, shifting his grip on the hilts and checking on the others through the Force and their bonds. You don't have to do this.

Nor do you, he snaps back, angry, but also hurt now. You can stand down, stop this madness. You don't have to leave. It's the hurt in his voice that makes Hunter hurt, too, and he looks across the hangar bay, locking eyes with his youngest brother through the visor of his helmet. If he could see his face, he knows what expression would be there, the tightness in his jaw, the wary, wounded vulnerability in his eyes, an almost wordless plea for Hunter to take it away and make it better, and it feels like a vibroblade is being twisted into his chest.

We can't stay, he answers, knowing that his own pain will be conveyed through the bond, whether he tries to hide it or not. I don't want to do this. I don't want to leave you, but you – you're shooting at us, trying to hurt us. I gotta protect the squad, even you, and – I know how you'll feel if you hurt us.

Crosshair stills, hands tight on his rifle, but he doesn't keep shooting, a conflict tearing him apart on the inside, hurt and betrayal and anger warring with each other and the deep, unwavering protectiveness he feels for them. You're not giving me a choice, he growls, lowering his rifle and firing again, and even over the bond, his voice breaks on the words, pain turning to anger again.

Hunter deflects the blaster bolts automatically, even if he really just wants to cry right now, but he doesn't have time to deal with emotions. They need to leave before someone is hurt. And when Crosshair orders one of the regs to seal the bay doors, he knows they're out of time. "Omega," he calls, glancing towards her for a moment, "Get on the ship. Now. I'll cover you."

She looks at him, brown eyes wide and scared, but filled with a stubborn determination, too, and she nods, ducking out from their hiding spot and racing for the ramp. Hunter moves to cover her, but his distraction with her is enough for a blaster bolt to get past his defenses, hitting his shoulder. He gasps, stumbling back, though he knows it's just a minor, surface injury, hardly even enough to get past his armor, but he feels the flare of concern from Wrecker and Echo, the grim, stony resignation from Crosshair, mingled with a furious anger.

Get on board, he yells to the other two, and they do, letting him cover them as they board the Marauder, closing the ramp. The ship lurches under their feet taking off from the hangar bay and heading sharply upward, up and away from Kamino. Hunter reaches out for Crosshair one final time before they're out of range. I'm sorry, he whispers, the guilt he feels echoing with his words. And it's okay. I know it's not you. And then, take care of yourself.

He's close enough to feel Crosshair's emotions slanting from anger to disbelief, betrayal, and hurt before it shifts back to rage again, and he pulls back, inhaling shakily as he heads for the cockpit, sliding his lightsaber hilts back into his boots and rolling his shoulder to see how bad the injury is. It won't take long to heal – a full rotation tops. He's still in shock over what happened, over leaving Crosshair behind there, but he doesn't know what else they could have done. At least their youngest won't be imprisoned or tortured or executed, not when he's working for the Empire.

He can feel their shared grief over their bonds as they instinctively pull closer together, watching silently as they leave the atmosphere and head into space to make a hyperspace jump out of here. His every instinct tells him to go back for Crosshair, because he's one of them, a part of their coven, their youngest brother, but he – he can't go back without risking everyone else. Kamino will be on high alert right now, anyway, and returning will only be met with harsh resistance. They're good, but not that good, not good enough to go through the entire facility of regs to get to Crosshair, not good enough to fight the regs and their brother and successfully subdue him.

They can't get Crosshair out, but it still feels like they're abandoning him. It still feels like he failed him, and the guilt of that is nearly enough to choke him, his vampiric instincts rising up and strangling him, demanding that he put his coven first, that he keeps them together and safe and –

But he can't, and he hates it.

"First time in space?" he queries finally, watching Omega's wide-eyed wonder which is practically being screamed into the Force as she stands on her tiptoes to peer out the viewport.

"First time anywhere," she answers, turning to look at him with a bright smile.

He pulls his helmet off, tucking it under his arm, seeing the others follow his example, as he fumbles for something to say. He's not used to interacting with people outside their squad, much less children. But at least they got her out, got her away so she won't be experimented on.

The silence is strained and a little awkward, and Omega finally breaks it by asking, "Where'd you get lightsabers? I didn't know clones were allowed to use them."

"They're not," he replies, "But our situation is… complicated." He exchanges looks with the others, communicating with them more through half-formed thoughts and feelings as they try and decide if they should tell her everything. It only makes sense, of course, but Hunter needs them all to be on board with it.

"We're vampires," he tells her once the others have sent him their agreements, "It's not something that's well known outside of a select few. We've kept it away from the Kaminoans and most natborns."

"Vampires?" Omega echoes, face scrunching. "What's that mean?"

"Vampires are thought to be legendary creatures who prey on people in the night, drinking their blood," Tech informs her, not looking away from the viewport as he flies them away from Kamino. "As it turns out, they are not so legendary, after all. Crosshair –" They all pretend that his voice doesn't waver a little on the name, "– was the first of us to be turned, on a mission shortly after Wrecker's injury. He turned Hunter, who subsequently turned the rest of us."

"You drink blood?" she questions, sounding a little grossed out, but mostly curiously.

"Yeah, but just each other's," Hunter tells her. "We've got enhanced abilities: speed, strength, senses, and a telepathic bond that links us together. I… became Force sensitive after I… bit a Jedi." He'd thought it weird at the time, but all of his brothers had, and Anakin hadn't minded; he'd actually seemed to enjoy it, and given what he said to them, about how he never felt as if he fit in among the Jedi, not dissimilar from how they view the regs, it had been easy. He fits with them. He gets how they feel in a way no one else has, and he respects them. That's more than Hunter can say for many people.

"You bit a Jedi?" Omega squeaks.

"We all did," Wrecker volunteers cheerfully. "He liked it."

"I disagree," Echo grumbles under his breath. "He was pretty freaked out when I did."

"Well, naturally," Tech snips, "Given that he had no warning or explanation about your behavior until after it was done."

"Anyway," Hunter says on top of them, "He helped me get my lightsabers and gave me some Force training. I'm not a Jedi or anything," he shrugs, "But they are useful skills, and it increases our odds… even if we can't die easily. Vampires are hard to kill. Only a head or heart shot can take them down for good."

"Woah," Omega murmurs, wide-eyed.

"What's the plan, Hunter?" Tech asks, interrupting whatever Omega was about to say next.

He blows out a breath, leaning on the co-pilot's seat where Echo is sitting. "I thought we could go off on our own. Lay low. But with Crosshair gunning for us, I'm not so sure."

Crosshair knows their strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else – he knows them almost better than they know themselves, maybe better because of how well he can read them even if they can't interpret their own feelings sometimes – and the Empire would be foolhardy to have him do anything other than hunt them down. And Hunter knows Crosshair. If he's been hurt, which he feels he has, not wrongfully, he'll strike back when and where it's least expected, whether physically, verbally, or both. He's good at it and having those skills turned against them isn't something Hunter ever thought would happen.

"What about your friends? Could any of them help us?" Omega queries, looking up at them.

"That would be a short list," Tech replies dryly.

Hunter pauses, thinking through the people who they know, people who they can find, who might help them, when he thinks of someone. "I can think of one. Plot a course for J-19."

"J-19?" Echo… well, echoes, his frown audible.

"Yeah," he replies with a half-smile when he thinks of Jek and Shaeeah. They and Omega will become instant friends, he imagines. "We know a guy. Strap in, kid," he continues as Tech programs the navicomputer, "You're not gonna wanna miss this view."

She hops into a chair, and Hunter watches her fondly as her expression turns to one of awe and wonder as the blue and white streaks of hyperspace fill the viewport. It's not until that very moment that it fully sinks in that Crosshair is gone. He's gone. He's not with him, and he's not coming back, either. He can't come back unless they go back for him. They left him behind. The vampire in him clamors for attention, demanding that he find him and bring him back, back to the coven where he belongs, but he can't – can't do that, and it fills him with a helpless yearning.

Wrecker reaches out, touching his shoulder, pulling him closer, and Hunter lets him, leaning against his biggest brother's side. I miss him, Wrecker whispers into his mind, and Hunter can feel his pain, too, his grief, and it hurts. He's the oldest – other than Echo – and it's always been his responsibility to protect them, a responsibility that he's failed.

Yeah. Me too.

If Crosshair was here…

He cuts that thought off, though, when it sends a stab of pain through him, sharp enough to take his breath away and nearly bring tears to his eyes.

"Can I become a vampire, too?" Omega inquires hopefully, turning to look at him, and he instinctively pulls away from Wrecker, straightening, not wholly comfortable with showing closeness of any kind in front of people he doesn't know well.

"You're still young, Omega," Hunter answers, trying to figure out how to answer her, "And the transformation isn't one that can be undone." If he turns her, she'll have to stay with them. She'll be a part of the coven, too, and he… they'll have to keep her. But he doesn't know what to do with a child. They're soldiers. They were never meant to be anything more. He doesn't want to turn her without the consent of the others, and – and Crosshair isn't here. He's not here to give his own opinion, and Hunter has no idea what he would think. He hardly even knows what he thinks about it.

"But I want it," she insists stubbornly. "I – I want to stay with you. Please?"

He's shaking his head even before she's fully finished speaking. "You're a child," he repeats, "Not a soldier. You – I'm not going to trap you into the life we have." He pauses, and then adds, "We've never had a female vampire before, either. I don't know how it would affect you."

"Technically," Tech unhelpfully interjects, "Her transformation should be very similar to our own. I do not see any reason why her gender would affect it, but her age is definitely a matter of concern. Vampires age very slowly, if at all, and I am uncertain if she would ever grow older."

He… never even considered that part. According to legend, vampires are essentially immortal with very slow aging, but they've not yet been able to tell that aspect of it. It hasn't been long enough yet, and though Tech has theorized that their aging has been virtually stopped, he said they'd need to wait a couple more years before he can be certain. Hunter doesn't want to trap Omega as a child forever. That's not fair to her.

"I don't care about that," she says sullenly.

"Maybe not now," Hunter counters gently, "But it's not fair to you, either. You should be able to make the decision for yourself when you get older." She's their sister. Stars. He's never had a sister before, and theoretically, it ought to be the same as having a brother, but he doesn't know that, because he's never known a female before. He's never had to take care of one, either, much less a child. What if he messes this all up? What if he's doing it all wrong?

If Crosshair was here –

But he's not, so it doesn't matter.

"Yeah," Wrecker agrees, reaching over to pat Omega's shoulder, "You only gotta wait a year or two, and then, you can become one of us entirely."

She makes a face, but then smiles at him.

"There actually is a female vampire," Echo speaks up, "The one who joined the coven right around… when we were given Order 66."

Hunter had felt that, but he's felt many vampires join their coven, though he doesn't know who most of them are – other regs, of course – and he has no idea why Echo would think this one was any different. "How could you know that?" he asks.

Echo huffs out a breath, a sudden half-smile on his face. "Because it's the Commander."

Commander.

Ahsoka Tano? That Commander? The one who left the Jedi Order, because Jedi can apparently do that? That one?

"… Are you sure?" Wrecker questions before the others can.

"Yeah," he replies, "She is… unmistakable."

"It would make sense that Echo could recognize her when we did not because he knew her," Tech points out, adjusting his goggles. "I presume the clones turned her, so they did not have to kill her." He sounds bitter, angry, a little resentful, and Hunter can almost hear the why didn't Crosshair try harder. It's not Crosshair's fault that this happened, and they all know that, conceptually, but it's still… hard.

"Tech," Hunter says, hardly certain what he's trying to say, reaching out to touch his younger brother's shoulder. Tech leans into the touch, but the pit of bitterness inside him which Hunter can feel doesn't fade. There's nothing he can say. The words he would normally use won't work here, not when Crosshair is gone. He's always been there, one of the four of them, the original Clone Force 99. They grew up together, did everything together, and now… now –

Now, it's all done and over.

Crosshair is gone, and no regrets will bring him back, only action. Hunter wants him back so badly that he aches with it, but he's not ready to face Crosshair again, not ready to stare down the end of his little brother's rifle. It hurts, so badly, that he shot at them, that he shot Hunter – because he has no doubt that it was Crosshair who landed the blow on him – and he's not ready to face it all over again, not quite yet.

Right now, he just… needs a moment.

"Let's go back there," he suggests, nodding to the hold. There's a pause as his siblings look at each other before they follow him from the cockpit.

"You're injured," Tech states, catching his arm when he turns towards his rack.

He rolls his shoulder again, wincing when the bruised muscles are pulled – there's a surface burn, too, nothing major though. "Yeah," he concedes because there's no use denying it. "May I?" he questions, nodding to Tech.

Tech sets down his helmet, a little harder than needed, tugging down the neckline of his body glove in open invitation as he sits on the edge of Hunter's rack. Hunter sits next to him, glancing briefly towards Omega, who is watching them curiously, before deciding to try and ignore her presence – she'll have to get used to them feeding on each other, if she'll stay. He leans towards Tech, nuzzling his neck lightly to try and calm him before biting down, his fangs sinking through skin and drawing blood. He curls closer, wrapping his arms around his brother as he feeds, feeling Tech's pain and grief fade a little as he's soothed from the feeding.

It helps, but it feels so very wrong when Crosshair is missing, and Hunter can feel the emotions slowly rising up and choking him again. Crosshair is one of them, and he – he's supposed to be here. It's wrong for him to be gone.

Echo slides in next to Hunter, touching his back in comfort, and after a moment, Wrecker joins them on Tech's other side, wrapping both Hunter and Tech in his arms. Omega comes closer, and Wrecker doesn't hesitate, reaching out to tug her into his lap, squished up against Tech. It's comfortable, comforting, to have them here, all of them except Crosshair, and if Hunter lets himself break and cry for the brother they've lost, Tech won't say anything. He just hugs Hunter tighter, all but clinging to him as they mourn and try to pull themselves back together to keep moving, regardless of what all they've lost.

(They've lost their youngest, the softest of them all in many ways, and words can never do justice to what Crosshair was to them.)

Final Notes: Reviews are always appreciated! ^-^

Come hang out on Discord (delete spaces), discord . gg / nqSxuz2 or find us on tumblr at fanfictasia (our more serious blog which does have controversial posts on it; I won't be offended if you choose to block it, promise), and disastertriowriting (which is our fun blog with crack posts or incorrect SW quotes)

We've got a YT channel for tributes! (delete the spaces) youtube channel / UC_g1M5rSCxJUzQCRS29B6pA

ALSO: We have SW gift request forms for General, Anakin-Clones-centric, and Bad Batch fics. :D (delete spaces) bit . ly / CourtesyTrefflinFicRequests