Doomsnapped

Author's Note: This is an AU where Hunter's chip is activated instead of Crosshair's. It's... not exactly part of the Dooms universe. It's more of a what-if. Prepare yourselves and get out the tissues! This is a gutting, all out, hurt no comfort type fic! :')

PS. This is for the square "sacrifice" on the Bad Batch Bingo. And it's also for Day 7 of Haunted Clone Week. :)

~ Amina Gila

He was blinded by emotion, perhaps, but then, that's been true of all of them. They've never been paradigms of rationality, even at their best.

Well, none of them except Hunter.

And perhaps that's why it all went wrong from the start.

**w**

They lost him on Kamino, or at least that's what it feels like. He'd been acting… strange on Kaller, when they got the order to kill the Jedi, but for as uneasy as Crosshair had been, he'd tried to brush it off. Surely, if Hunter thought it was the right thing to do, it must be, right?

Right?

They hadn't found the padawan, and then, everything seemed normal – well, not really, given that the Republic became an Empire, and that they met a kid, Omega, who seemed to want to follow them around everywhere – until they were sent to Onderon. They had orders to kill the insurgents, civilians. Hunter wanted to go through with it, but Echo refused. Adamantly.

They… didn't. And it was because of that that they were arrested on their return, Hunter separated from them.

When they saw him again, he was on the other side of the hangar, ordering them to stand down, and refusing that order was one of the hardest things Crosshair has ever done. But they couldn't, because the Hunter they knew would have wanted them to protect themselves, to fight back instead of submitting. They've never been ones to follow orders, so why is Hunter acting as if they should?

Following orders has never been in their nature.

They'd managed to escape, but barely, and then, they fled. Ran. Went into hiding. Living on the run, hand-to-mouth, working for a Trandoshan black-market dealer, named Cid, as mercenaries. They ran into Hunter on Bracca. It had not ended well, but they'd still managed to escape, albeit barely.

It felt less like surviving and more like existing though, half the time, as they were left in the galaxy, adrift, no leader to guide them.

None of them are Hunter, and Hunter is the only one they've ever willingly followed. Echo is the best choice for leader, given that he's an ARC trooper, but he's… he's not Hunter, and he's a reg. It's not a bad thing, but it's the one thing that will forever keep him apart from them, for as close as they are. He chose them when no one else ever has – except Omega, but she's just a kid, even if she is their sister – and they will all be forever grateful to him for that. But that he's a reg also means that he's… different. He's fiery, passionate, and he wants to fight. It's not that the rest of them don't, but they have Omega to worry about, and… fighting the Empire means fighting Hunter.

They can't fight him; he's their brother, their leader, the one who knows how to handle them, how to guide and protect them. They can't survive without him, and that is only evidenced by the ridiculous number of close calls and injuries which they've gotten in their month on the run.

The solution is obvious: they need to get Hunter back.

He can help them, keep them safe. For all that he might have been fighting them, he's – he's not actually hurt them, even if it's come close, and Crosshair has to believe that he wouldn't cross that line, chip or not. This is Hunter.

"Technically, it would be most ideal to stage an extraction," Tech states, "But that is not a very realistic solution. He will resist us every step of the way, and that may put us at jeopardy."

"We need him," Crosshair almost-snaps, and once, he would never have said something so… open or vulnerable, but it's the truth. That they're all ignoring it doesn't make it any less true. "Look at us! We've nearly died three separate times, and it's only through luck, not skill, that we're all still in one piece. We have no idea what we're doing."

"… I'm not sure Hunter would… exactly be any better at this kind of life," Echo points out dryly.

Crosshair scowls at him. "We're soldiers. He's the leader. He knows how to adapt, how to get us to adapt. At the rate we're going, it's only a matter of time before something… irreversible happens." He knows it. They know it. It's just a hard thing for them to accept.

Omega makes a quiet, strangled noise, and Wrecker pulls her against his side. "Don't scare the kid," he chides.

Whatever snippy comeback Crosshair might have had dies when he looks at her. She's… young, too young for this kind of life, but she chose them and wanted them and came back even when they tried to push her away. And maybe it's true that she's slowing them down a little, but Crosshair could never mind that, not when she's… her. She deserves everything, more than they can give her, and Wrecker is right. They don't want to scare her, even as they need to be realistic.

"Yeah," he answers, shaking his head, "But you know I'm right."

"Logically, getting to him would be nearly impossible," Tech reminds. "We have no way of predicting where he might be, or where we could even go to find him."

So, that means they need to keep waiting, and Crosshair's jaw tightens at that. He might be good with waiting, but that doesn't mean he has to like it, not when it comes to something like this.

**w**

Their chance comes on Ryloth, when they go back to help Hera Syndulla, daughter of the freedom fighter Cham. Omega had insisted that they help, and Echo had pointed out that it was the right thing to do, and so, they'd gone.

They're spying on the Capitol, trying to figure out the best plan of attack when they see Hunter there. And then, Crosshair just knows, that it's the best chance they have. He can't – they can't function without their once oldest, and they – they need him back. They miss him. They don't talk about him much because it's too painful, but Crosshair knows they all acutely miss him, and how could they not? He's one of them, a piece of them, and without him, they're only shadows. They're not whole.

He aches with the pain of Hunter's loss, his absence a constant, throbbing wound that will never heal. He just – needs him back, needs to feel the steady, reassuring hand on his shoulder, needs to hear the warmth and confidence of his voice. He – needs him.

They all need him.

"This is our chance," Crosshair says as they head back to their hideout, escaping in the speeder after the probe droid spots them. Yes, the Empire will know they're coming, but they can plan something, and – and Hunter is right there. They can't afford to miss this chance, not when there's no way to know when they might get another.

"It's too risky," Tech says, almost immediately, shaking his head. "We're all over Imperial chatter, and they have undoubtedly increased the patrols in the city. If we went, we'd be walking into a trap, and when Hunter picks up our trail, we will never be able to shake him."

Is that really a bad thing, he wants to ask but doesn't, because they can make a trap, too. Hunter can't best all of them, and Crosshair isn't certain that he would actually hurt them, not when he hasn't before, even though he had a chance. Chances. Many of them. None of them ever came to much, no matter how terrifying it had been, in the moment, to have Hunter shooting at them.

Maybe Hunter has orders, but that doesn't mean he'll actually hurt them. Crosshair couldn't hurt him, either.

"It is risky," Echo concurs, but there's doubt in his voice, as if he's not fully certain what path they should pick. "The element of surprise is gone, and Hunter will expect our attack." Hunter would know what to do if he was here. Hunter always knew.

But Crosshair pushes that thought from mind, the numbing desperation to get him back eroding at his common sense. He knows it's a risk, knows it'll be a challenge for all of them, knows some of them could get hurt, but – but it's Hunter. They can't just leave him.

"Have Omega plan an attack then," Crosshair suggests. "Hunter doesn't know her, and she's good at strategy. She can do it."

She looks up at him, a flare of gratefulness in her eyes, and he nods to her, wordlessly. She's proven herself several times over, and she might be small and breakable and theirs to protect, but Crosshair trusts her. She confers with Hera for a few minutes, discussing the planet and the Capitol and what they can do, before they slowly put together a plan. It's risky and daring, and it will require everything to go according to plan, but… maybe – maybe they can pull it off.

(And get Hunter back.)

But no one discusses that part too much, or what it would mean for him to come back, after a month apart.

Maybe, they should have thought it out a little more.

**w**

Tech takes the Marauder, along with Wrecker, Omega, and Hera to attack the Imperial refinery on the outskirts of the Capitol. After that, they'll loop around to pick up Echo and Crosshair, along with those they've rescued. And from there? Well, they'll cross that bridge when they get to it, but they're currently counting on Hunter being at the Capitol to protect it. If he's not, they'll figure it out from there, but they have an unspoken promise to each other that they're going to get him back.

It doesn't matter what the obstacles are. They're going to get to him. They're going to take him. They're not going to leave him behind, not again.

Rescuing the Twi'leks goes smoothly, almost too much so, and perhaps that should have been the first indication to all of them that something was bound to go downhill.

The reg captain warned them of the trap waiting for them outside, so instead, they rerouted to the private hangar so the Twi'leks could escape on their own, waiting for the Marauder to bring Tech and Wrecker to join them. The reg went to talk to his squad, unwilling to just leave them there, and it strikes Crosshair deeply, because once, that was them. Once, they would have been the ones willing to risk anything to stay together. Most regs aren't like that; they put the mission first, and that this one isn't, is something he… respects.

They're trusting the reg, Howzer his name is, to get his squad on his side, or at least some of them, and they're going to use that to their advantage.

The shuttle takes off, and Crosshair contacts the Marauder to call them on. "We're good to go, Tech," he calls. "The Twi'leks are free, and we need you here."

"On my way," comes the reply, and he knows that Tech will come as fast as he can, but in the meantime, it's time to start the fight.

He takes up a position on the edge of the hangar, looking down through the scope of his rifle, scanning the area down below while Echo goes down below to lead Hunter to them. He'd told Howzer that they would need his help so they could extract Hunter, and he'd agreed to give whatever aid he could, short of killing his squad members – and that is something Crosshair would never ask him to do.

"Ready?" Echo queries when he presumably gets in position.

"Ready," Crosshair confirms, his fingers tightening on the trigger, aiming for the duracrete not too far from Hunter's feet. Even if he's certain that Hunter will evade it, that's not something he's going to risk.

They need to hurry. Already, the regs are preparing to cuff their brothers who have stood down and refused to go along with what the Empire is doing.

"Now," Echo orders, and Crosshair fires. Hunter jerks back, just as Crosshair knew he would, his head snapping up towards the hangar.

Crosshair can't hear what he's saying, but he can imagine it well enough as Howzer takes that as his cue to twist free from whoever was holding him and jump him. A full-fledged scuffle breaks out between the regs, and Hunter glances at them for a moment before unholstering his blaster and taking off into the building on his own.

"Incoming," Crosshair warns Echo.

"I see it."

"Tech, status?" he calls into his comm, pulling back from the edge of the hangar and moving to the doors, waiting for the Marauder to come in and land.

"I'll be there in a minute," he answers, his voice strained.

"Good, we've got Hunter incoming," Crosshair tells him, moving into the building towards the hall where he and Echo had decided was the best place to pin Hunter down.

But in the meantime, Echo will lead him all over, on a chase, staying just one step ahead of him as he leads him to their planned location.

The Marauder gets there, though, before Crosshair has much time to worry, and he, Tech, and Wrecker take off into the building to meet up with Echo, and to hopefully, overwhelm Hunter. He won't hurt them. He won't, and they can finally get him out of here, bring him back to where he belongs.

They leave the kid behind, in the cockpit, ready to take off quickly if – more like when – they need it. She's not flown it before, but she's… passable, enough to get them in the air before one of the others can take over. It's not ideal, but it'll do in a pinch.

Nervous anticipation prickles down Crosshair's spine as he makes move further into the building, carefully scanning the halls. "Echo?"

His comm crackles for a moment, and his voice is breathless when he answers. "He's fast. Faster than I expected. I'll be there shortly." And sure enough, Crosshair can hear blaster fire from not too far away. He lowers his rifle, standing at the doors of the hall – it looks like a fancy dining hall or something, but the furniture has been cleared – waiting and watching. This has to work. It has to.

Echo races past outside the door, ducking a blaster bolt as he dodges out of sight, and Hunter follows, pausing when he sees Crosshair there.

For a moment, he can't breathe through the emotions rising up and choking him. Hunter. He's here. Really here. Here and alive, and a tiny part of Crosshair almost wants to cry, which is childish, because he's a soldier. But he's also Hunter's younger brother, and the child in him just – just wants to be comforted and held and told that everything will be alright. He tamps that down, focusing instead on his part of the mission.

Distraction.

He's good with words, and if he can hold Hunter's attention long enough, Tech and Echo will be able to stun him while Wrecker carries him out when they make their retreat.

"Hunter," he says, neutral, trying not to think or feel at the sight of Hunter's dark armor. It's devoid of personality, but it's still him. (If his helmet was off, Crosshair knows that he would see the bandana he's wearing, black and personality-less like his armor, the former red, decorated with a skull marking him as one of them, gone.)

Hunter raises his blaster, but doesn't fire, not when Crosshair makes no move to attack.

"You need to listen to me," he says, trying to appeal to the leader in Hunter, the older brother wo always tried to help and soothe them when they needed it most. "Please."

"You're a traitor," Hunter accuses, his voice hard, and once, Crosshair would have faltered, hearing that disappointment and disapproval, but not now. He knows they did the right thing by leaving the Empire, and he knows that this isn't Hunter's fault. He can't help it.

"You know what the Empire is doing," he states, ignoring Hunter's words entirely. He doesn't think arguing with him on that is a good idea, and he doesn't disagree, either. They did leave. That makes them deserters, traitors. "Deep inside of you, you know it's wrong. You know that this… oppression isn't right. The people here are ones we were created to protect, not hurt."

"Good soldiers follow orders," Hunter snaps, "You are working with them. You have seen what they are doing. They are insurgents. So long as they remain free, there will never be peace here. That is what the Empire seeks to accomplish. It is no different from the Republic in that way."

Crosshair's temper flares, despite himself. He should know better than to lash out, but – it's been a long few weeks, and he misses Hunter terribly. He doesn't know how to handle the emotions that have been warring inside of him; they're soldiers. Emotions have never been something they were taught how to deal with, and he doesn't want to do this anymore.

"Then maybe the Republic was wrong," he hisses. "We're no better than droids if we mindlessly follow what politicians say over what we know is right!"

Hunter shakes his head. "Surrender," he says, "And I will speak to Admiral Rampart. He will grant you leniency if you show you are willing to obey. We were supposed to stay together, Crosshair. We're a squad. Look at where you've ended up, when you stopped following me."

Crosshair hates that there's a part of him which wants to just… submit, which wants to go back to Hunter and swear allegiance and follow him to the end of the galaxy. They were supposed to stay together. "I know you," he answers, keeping his voice even and blank only through years of practice.

He hates having to wear a mask in front of his older brother, hates having to… all of this, really. Once, Hunter was the one he felt most comfortable opening up around and sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings with. Hunter was the one he spoke with when he was troubled, when he struggled. And now… he can't do that anymore. It hurts, having to handle it all alone, not having anyone he can confide in, anyone he can trust to help him through this.

"I know you," he repeats. "You've always been the most conscious, of all of us, of hurting people, civilians, regs, anyone. And this isn't you, Hunter. It's not your fault. I know you can't help it. You're being controlled."

"You are being absurd," Hunter informs him flatly, and his tone is the same one he uses on them when they're being childish or ridiculous. It has no right to ache so badly.

"No, I'm not." Yes, he knows it sounds petulant, even if he doesn't mean it to. "Wrecker tried to kill us, Hunter, on Bracca, because his chip activated. He was gonna go through all of us to get to the kid, and that's not – he would have done it without hesitating, even if that's not something he would ever do on his own. He hurt us." He steps forward, straightening, daring Hunter to challenge him. "You know him. He would never hurt us."

Hunter… falters, or at least it looks like he is, from the way his fingers loosen on the blaster. "He did?"

Just a little longer. Any moment now, Tech will attempt to stun Hunter, and that means Crosshair needs to keep his attention.

"Without hesitation," he repeats. "Wrecker would never do that of his own. The chips are real. I know it sounds unbelievable, but it's – they're real. They're not something you can control."

"Do you trust me?"

The question catches Crosshair off-guard, and he flounders, uncertain how to answer. "I trust the brother I knew," he answers carefully.

"Then trust that I know what I'm doing," Hunter says. "I'm only doing what's best for the squad, like I always have. It's my job to protect you. How long do you really think you can last out there without being seriously hurt or killed?"

His breath catches in his lungs, and tears burn at his eyes. He wants to cry. "That's why we need you," he replies, almost pleads. "We always will. Hunter, please –"

But words won't be enough to make Hunter stand down, and Crosshair knows that. He's stubborn in his own way, and it's more likely that he'll convince Crosshair to join him than the other way around.

It all happens so fast.

Tech swings around the corner, blaster raised, firing a stun bolt, but Hunter reacts faster, rolling aside and firing back, the stun bolt Tech fired harmlessly hitting the wall. The blaster shot connects with Tech's chest, and he goes down.

"Tech!"

Crosshair drops his rifle, bodily lunging at Hunter, instincts kicking in before he can even think about it. The only thing that matters, in this moment, is that Tech has been shot, and he could die, because Hunter didn't miss, he never misses, and that was a chest shot. No. No, this can't be happening not Tech not Tech –

He slams into Hunter, knocking him to the floor, and they wrestle for control of Hunter's blaster, and finally, Crosshair succeeds in wrenching it from his hands and tossing it across the room, trying to pin his brother down. He's angry, furious, and betrayed, because this is Hunter and that was Tech, and they don't hurt each other. It's something that they just don't do, and that Hunter was willing to cross that line, a line he's never crossed before, it hurts.

But he doesn't have time to think about it, not then, and not as Hunter punches him, tossing him off and rolling on top of him. Crosshair twists in his grip, kicking him off, and they lunge for each other again. His heart is pounding, adrenaline and fury giving him a strength – and wildness – that he didn't have before, and he – he hates that he wants to hurt Hunter, but he does, and he doesn't think twice as he shoves Hunter into the wall, slamming his head against it.

It must hurt, and Hunter stumbles for a moment before he regathers himself and pulls out his vibroblade.

And Crosshair sees red.

No kriffing way is he going to let Hunter gut him or any of them, and with a scream-snarl of half rage, half betrayal, he jumps him. It's stupid and risky and dangerous, because Hunter is good at hand-to-hand combat, better than him, and he's good with knives, and what is he thinking –

"Crosshair!" It's Echo, calling for him, but he's lost in a haze of hurt, as he tackles Hunter to the floor, trying to twist the blade from his fingers. He wants to hurt him. He wants to take him. He wants – he doesn't even know what he wants. Maybe to wake up and find that this is all a nightmare.

He catches sight of Wrecker picking up Tech's prone form and carrying him out of there, half-running, and he knows they need to go, because Hunter can't be stopped won't be stopped not by them, and they need to go, but – but it's Hunter.

He hurt Tech.

But he's still Hunter, still their brother, their leader, their – everything.

Crosshair can't leave him, even if all he wants to do is strangle him right now, probably literally. "How could you?" he hisses, hating the way his voice breaks in the middle.

"We need to go!" Echo yells, but he's not really listening, even if the words register.

But Echo distracts him for a fraction of a second, and that's all the opening that Hunter needs. Crosshair hardly even sees his brother's hand move, before there's a burning pain in his side. He jerks away instinctively, gasping, one hand pressing to the stab wound in his side. It's not that deep, he doesn't think, but it hurts, and he has no doubt that it will bleed badly. Already, he can feel the sticky warmth of his own blood, and he doesn't know what hurts worse: the wound or that it was Hunter who caused it.

For a moment, everything just stills, and Hunter has his vibroblade raised, ready to go at him again, but he seems frozen there, though he could easily go for Crosshair's neck before he could even react.

But Hunter doesn't move, and the only sound in the room is Crosshair's gasping pants as he struggles for air, a hand pressed to his side to stem the flow of blood, each breath sending a pain coursing through him.

Echo reacts first, tackling Hunter into the wall and hitting him hard across his helmet with his scomp before jumping at Crosshair, snatching his arm and yanking him to his feet. He struggles against it, because he can't – he can't just leave. Hunter is right there, and they can't – they can't –

"Crosshair, we need to go," Echo says harshly.

Crosshair sucks in a breath, flinching at the pain that hits him. He feels numb, empty, dead, and he looks back at Hunter to see him slowly pushing himself upright before he lets Echo drag him from the room.

Their escape to the Marauder is a blur to him, reality warping around the edges. Dimly, he registers protesting, stammering objections, demanding they get Hunter before they leave, but Echo ignores him, for a most part, only saying a short, terse, "we can't, not without being hurt worse." And it's not until they get to their ship, get aboard, that Crosshair begins to become more… aware.

He stumbles, falls to his knees, panting weakly, pressing tighter on the wound, his hand slippery with blood.

"Get us out of here!" Echo yells, letting go of him and closing the ramp, running for the cockpit.

Omega's in there, Crosshair knows, waiting for them, ready to take off, and – and –

The world doesn't feel real to him, as if he's disconnected from his body, and he stands slowly, shakily, each breath bringing a new burning, stinging pain in his side. He stumbles back to the bunks, to where Wrecker took Tech. He's unconscious, but Crosshair's eyesight picks up the rise and fall of his chest, and he nearly cries at the reassurance that he's still alive.

Wrecker's not there, though, and Crosshair can see him in the gunner's mount, manning the guns in case they're pursued. They're intercepted by a few fighters, which Wrecker brings down with ease before they make it to the rendezvous point to meet up with the Twi'leks. Crosshair… doesn't exactly care. He doesn't care about anything at all. He's numb to it all, numb to everything, and distantly, he realizes that he's shaking, but… he doesn't know why he should care, about that or anything. It's all too much. Too much in too short a time, and he can't – can't process it.

**w**

His head is pounding from the multiple impacts it sustained, but that's not nearly enough to stop him. He's dealt with worse, fought in battles when he's half out-of-it from overstimulation before. It's not nearly enough to stop him from getting up and continuing the mission, the chase, but he just… can't.

He's frozen on the floor, half on his knees, his vibroblade clenched in his hand, and nothing else seems to matter beyond the smear of blood on the blade. He hadn't activated it – if he had, he could have cut through armor with ease, but he hadn't because he hadn't wanted to strike a killing blow, no matter what his orders had been.

Hunter has no idea why they came after him like that, singling him out, separating him from others. Them trying to kill him wasn't out of the question, but somehow, he just – he can't quite imagine that that is why they did it. Crosshair could have taken him down with a headshot, and he didn't. Had he even been trying to shoot him out there? He has no idea, doesn't know that he'll ever know.

When he inhales next, it's shaky, and he still can't look away from the blood, Crosshair's blood. Hunter stabbed him, not badly, but still, he stabbed him, and – and –

He shot Tech, too, and some unnamed emotion twists inside of him, sharper and more cutting than a knife. He can claim it was just instinct, that he'd sensed someone sneaking up on him and shot instinctively, but that would be a lie. It would be a lie, because he'd known that it was Tech. He'd heard his familiar heartbeat, caught his scent, and he'd known it, but he still – he still fired. He still fired, and he doesn't know why.

They're his brothers, his squad, and even if they left, abandoned him and the Empire, became traitors, they're still his family. Rampart ordered him to kill them, though, said they were too great a threat to leave alive. He's a soldier. Following orders is what he does. It's what they were always trained to do. And yet… they're his brothers. He might be upset at them for walking out in a fit of rebellion, not following him the way they were always supposed to, but he can't – he can't kill them. He doesn't want to kill them.

Slowly, Hunter lifts his head from staring at his knife, remembering what Crosshair said to him.

"You've always been the most conscious, of all of us, of hurting people, civilians, regs, anyone. And this isn't you, Hunter. It's not your fault. I know you can't help it. You're being controlled."

He'd brushed it off then, because he's felt like himself, this whole time. He's known what he was doing, and he's made his own choices, chosen to follow like they all should have. But now, seeing what happened, what he did, he knows – he knows it's true. He knows it's true, because those are his brothers, and he's never hurt them before, never. He would never hurt them, never choose to hurt them, not of his own. But he did. He did.

That can't be him, can't be him. It's – it's what Crosshair said, about it just being his chip, because he would never hurt them. Never. It's always been his job to protect them, to keep them safe, and now? He's not doing that now. And if he could do this, without even… realizing what's been done to him, how can he ever trust his own judgment again? What does he do?

Is there even anything he can do, except stay and continue following orders, searching for his brothers while also trying to keep them away from the danger?

The guilt worms in next, smothering and drowning as Hunter remembers every single time that he's gone up against them since this all started. The tears come next, and though he never cries – he's always been level-headed, keeping his emotions tucked away in favor of protecting his brothers – he cries now, because what did he do?

Tech – Tech –

Stars. Tech could be dead.

Because of him. Because of him.

And that isn't something he can… fix.

**w**

The moment the Marauder touches down, Wrecker jumps out of the gunner's mount, scrambling to Tech's side, and Echo comes back there. Crosshair watches them blankly as they carefully remove his upper armor, checking the wound.

"It missed his heart," Echo reports tersely. "He'll be fine."

Crosshair sags, relief crashing into him so hard that he almost can't breathe. His mind returns to him a little, and he peels his hand off his side, neutrally staring at the blood on it. It's soaked with blood – he can feel it through the leather, on his hand, and he'll have to wash that off before it dries, or it'll be a pain to clean, no pun intended – and he strips it off, both of them off, tossing them onto the 'fresher floor as he washes off his hands, feeling the warm wetness slowly trickling down his side.

Better to take care of that before he bleeds out. He knows how to handle wounds. It's automatic, doesn't require thinking or feeling.

He goes back to where Echo and Wrecker are working on Tech, unbuckling his chest plate and tossing it onto his rack along with his helmet. Omega's gasp next to him snaps back another thread of alertness. "You're hurt!" she cries, diving for the metkit and snatching out a roll of gauze, handing it to him wordlessly.

Crosshair nods, still unable to get any words out, carefully peeling up the top half of his body glove, making a face at the amount of blood that's there. Robotically, he swabs it away so he can see the stab. It's bleeding heavily, though, and okay, it is deep, deeper than he thought. Hunter slid the vibroblade in between the joints of his armor, and it slashed a two-inch gash along his ribs, down to the bone. Not gonna think about that though, but at least, he thinks morbidly, the vibroblade wasn't switched on; it was just an ordinary, sharp object. It means the damage was drastically reduced. Still, he'll have a scar from it.

"Needs stitches," he says, and Omega instantly goes to get the supplies out.

Her face is pale, pinched, as she watches while he tries to get the stitches in on his own. It hurts, but that pain is nothing in comparison to things he's faced in the past – as well as the knowledge of who did this to him. No, can't think about that right now.

It's… hard when his fingers are trembling slightly, and finally, Omega catches his wrist, stopping him. "Let me," she murmurs, her voice wavering.

Echo and Wrecker are still working on Tech, so he nods, jerkily, letting go of the needle, which is slippery with his blood, letting her take it. Her brow furrows as she works, her movements quick and precise, though Crosshair can still tell how sick she feels, at the sight of the wound and all the blood, but she remains calm – calmer than him, at any rate.

When she's done, he wipes off the blood as best he can, pressing a bacta patch over it before pulling down his body glove again. He'll need to change it – the smell of blood will be nauseating after a while – but he can't do that until the wound heals some. If he tries to get his body glove off now, he'll probably tear the stitches.

"What happened?" Omega queries, leaning into his side, his uninjured one, and he automatically reaches for her shoulder, squeezing it.

"We… failed," he answers numbly, eyes traveling to Tech. He can't talk about it, doesn't know how, doesn't think he can say Hunter tried to kill us actually kill us without shattering into a million pieces.

She doesn't push when she realizes nothing else is forthcoming, sticking close to him while Echo and Wrecker finish bandaging Tech's injury and making sure he's stable. And then, Wrecker takes her off to explain, and Echo goes to the cockpit, leaving Crosshair alone with Tech. His steps falter as he goes to his older brother's side, sliding to the floor, and dropping his head to the bed, slowly reaching up to hold Tech's hand while he waits for him to awaken.

He has no idea how long it's been before Tech regains consciousness, and it takes a few seconds for him to reorient himself.

"We're safe," Crosshair tells him, because that's the most important thing.

Tech doesn't answer, just looking at him, something haunted and lost in his brown eyes, and Crosshair squeezes his hand a little tighter. Hunter shot him, actually shot him, nearly killed him. He stabbed Crosshair. They were trying to get him out, and now… now –

"I'm sorry," he croaks, "I'm sorry, Tech. I – I thought…"

"This was not your doing," his brother answers quietly, something gentle in his words despite the matter-of-factness of them. "You could not have known the outcome. This was a joint effort. Yes, you might have pushed for us to try an extraction, but we all knew it could go wrong. We took the risk, and we failed. That's not on you, Crosshair."

He whines, wordlessly, pressing closer to Tech, hissing when it pulls at the wound, but he doesn't let the pain keep him away. "You nearly died." His voice breaks on the word, and Tech shifts, bringing his other hand over to touch his head.

"I am aware, but I did not die. I'll be fine."

"Too many close calls," Crosshair whispers back, leaning into the touch. "I'm sorry. We should have been more careful, should have…" Something. Anything. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what they even can do. They failed. Hunter is still lost to him, and he can't – can't even let himself think about him now, because it hurts too much. He's so… conflicted about him. Scared, too.

Hunter stabbed him, shot Tech, and he doesn't – doesn't know how to let that go, doesn't know if he even can. They look after each other, and they don't – he knows it's not Hunter's fault, because he has the chip in his head, and he would never deliberately choose to hurt them, but it still happened, and when Crosshair thinks of him now, he feels afraid and vaguely nauseous.

(Once, thoughts of Hunter brought him comfort.)

Tech strokes his hair, lightly, and Crosshair doesn't quite manage to swallow the sob as tears burn at his eyes, spilling down his face. "We learn from our mistakes," he answers, but that's cold comfort if one of them dies. "I know Echo wants to fight, but… I do not think that is a wise choice for us anymore."

"Whaddya mean?" Wrecker queries, and Crosshair startles, because he hadn't even heard him come back, and that says a lot about the state of his mind, or rather, the lack thereof.

Crosshair doesn't need to look up to know that Tech's expression is tight, strained. "We need to go to ground. It's the one way I know of."

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Tech fall.

"We're soldiers," he mumbles.

"Not anymore," comes the reply, almost harsh. "We have to adapt."

Footsteps come closer, and then, Wrecker is at Crosshair's side, wrapping around him, his grip gentle so as not to jostle the stab too much, and he burrows into the touch, craving it desperately. "I'm sorry," he chokes out again, because it was his job to keep Hunter distracted, and –

"S'okie," Wrecker soothes, cuddling him closer, and resting his head on Crosshair's, "S'not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, Crosshair."

He doesn't answer, clinging to both Wrecker and Tech, the only brothers he has left, sobbing in relative silence as he tries to wrap his mind around what happened, around what Hunter did to them, around the fact that they'll never be able to get him back. He doesn't think he can try again; he's too scared, too afraid of what could happen, and Hunter would never forgive himself if he actually killed one of them. Better to stay away.

Doesn't mean it doesn't kill him, though, because Hunter is supposed to be here. He's supposed to soothe them, guide them through this, be their support while they flounder, protect them from the greater galaxy. He's not here, though, and they only have each other, and it – it doesn't feel like enough. He craves the feel of Hunter's hand on his shoulder, warm and steadying, the calming cadence of his voice, the steadiness that only he has ever been able to give. He needs Hunter here. They all need Hunter here, and Crosshair has no idea how they can ever move on from this. If they even can.

This is not a nightmare.

It's reality, in all it's harsh brutality.

Hunter is not coming back.

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