Chapter 1 - Undead
Plot: Crosshair dies in the ion engine blast on Bracca. Except he doesn't. When he awakens, he's changing, transforming. He's... different. He's become something Other. He awakens craving blood. And when he finds Hunter first, nothing can stop him from feeding.
Author's Note: Honestly, read at your own risk. :D xD
Warning: Non-consensual biting is a given.
~ Rivana Rita
PS. This fic is for the Bad Batch Bingo AND for Day 5 of Haunted Clone Week. :D It will be updated weekly. ^-^
~ Amina Gila
Crosshair was expecting them to try something when he ordered the engines turned on. He knew they would, because they'd always fight to the last. They're Clone Force 99, and it's what they do. He just didn't expect them to blow the connection between the engine itself, and the part they're inside.
If he'd seen it coming, he could've gotten out of there faster.
But it was so fast, and he barely had time to register the explosion a second before it happened, throwing him right into the direct exhaust of the ion engine. The sheer force of it throws him back, and... he doesn't really remember much after. The light blinds him and pain spears through his arm and back and a million other places.
Everything sort of blurs over and blacks out after that, but something in him is – it's changing. Something is waking up inside him, something cold and burning and wrong. He's – there's a pull inside him, and he – it's hunger. It's not normal hunger, either. Crosshair doesn't have the sense of mind to understand it. All he knows is that everything hurts. It's a burning ache waking up inside him, and it's...
(It hurts enough that he just wants to curl up and cry, and he hates himself for it.)
He feels different. The pain is numbing his mind, sharpening his senses, or maybe it's – it's something. Something that doesn't belong, but it doesn't really matter what it is. He doesn't have the mind to figure it out.
He needs –
Crosshair drags himself to his feet, leaning on the cliff edge behind him. His brothers can't be that far by now, and he needs...
He craves for blood, and it's not something that makes sense but it's strangely familiar, like a long-buried instinct that's always been there, and Crosshair isn't of the mind to wonder why, anyway. Maybe later, when he's more present, when everything doesn't hurt so much.
He can hardly walk, hardly move, but he – he needs to get to them. It's only them who Crosshair feels the pull to, though he doesn't know why. Maybe it's from how they're familiar, not the regs, not strangers, and they already hurt him, but he doesn't even care how much it'll hurt because he needs it. Blood – their blood.
It's Hunter that Crosshair finds first. He doesn't know where the other three are, but Hunter's here with the kid. He doesn't much care right now, either.
He needs – needs –
The rocky surroundings give Crosshair somewhat of an advantage – it gives him cover and even if Hunter can sense him, he can't see him.
"Omega," Hunter says, hand moving towards his blaster, "Run."
She shifts closer to him instead, and if Crosshair were more in his right mind, if he weren't in so much pain and so hungry, he might recognize her expression. Right now, all he cares about is food. Or, blood, to be specific, because that will help.
"Find cover," he adds, "Go." She steps back, still hesitating, and Hunter draws his blaster.
Crosshair lunges at him. He isn't of the ability to fight – but he needs –
Hunter yelps when they hit the ground, his blaster clattering onto the rocks. He tries to shove him off, and Crosshair doesn't fully know how he didn't succeed – he's exhausted, and everything hurts, but the burning hunger inside him is giving him something of an energy boost. "Crosshair –" Hunter starts half freaked out, half angry, struggling against his grip.
He snarls at him, pushing harder, trying to keep him still and down. He needs – needs this, and Hunter's fighting him. He's hurting him, and he's the one that started hurting Crosshair in the first place, and the mere fact that he's trying to stop him makes him almost irrationally angry. Crosshair doesn't know if it's the force or the sound that makes him still, at least temporarily.
"What are you doing?" Hunter asks incredulously as Crosshair presses closer, ducking his head to his brother's neck.
Hunter's still fighting him, trying to get a grip on him with which to shove him off. His hand touches lower on Crosshair's arm, and from the fiercely burning pain of it, he knows it's broken. A strangled cry escapes him, and Hunter just freezes. Crosshair shoves him, hard, ramming his shoulder against Hunter's sharply just because he knows it'll hurt – at least he hopes it does. He's angry. And hurt, because Hunter hurt him.
They walked away from him as though he meant nothing to them and they – they hurt him. They turned on him. He knows what he needs, knows it will hurt, but he doesn't really care. Doesn't have the mind to right now.
Hunter's stilled momentarily, and Crosshair uses that to his advantage, pinning him down and tugging at the neckline of his body glove. It hurts to use his right arm, but everything hurts, and he's being driven purely by desperation. He thinks Hunter's saying something, something he doesn't care to take the time to listen to.
He hisses faintly when Crosshair bites him, drawing blood.
Everything else fades from mind when the taste of Hunter's blood fills his mouth. It's not – it's different. It's not bitter or coppery like it ought to be. It's... it's not sweet exactly, either, but it tastes like Hunter and the presence of it fills him with a flare of longing that he hasn't felt in a while. Crosshair has missed him – them – even if he's still angry at them, and he wants more.
"Crosshair, what?" Hunter hisses, twisting and shoving against him again.
Crosshair snarls at him, frustration notching up a few levels higher. He needs it, this, and he can't let that be taken. "Stop fighting," he growls, somehow managing to find words. The ache is burning through him, and he needs –
Hunter stills at that, surprisingly, and Crosshair presses his mouth to the bite, feeding. It's bleeding fast, right now at least, and Crosshair presses them closer, half curling around Hunter. He wraps his left arm around Hunter's side, pinning his arm down to keep him from trying to push him off again.
Hunter's saying something, or trying to, but he doesn't have the sense or presence of mind to answer. Crosshair doesn't know what's happening, either. All he knows is what his instincts are demanding, and all that matters is that he gets this.
"Crosshair, what are you doing?" Hunter demands, and he sounds slightly freaked out.
He growls back, more annoyed than anything else. He doesn't want to talk; he just needs this and for everything to stop hurting so much. He's past rational thought right now.
His brother shifts his left arm, trying to get a grip on Crosshair, and he can't – his other arm is broken, and moving it hurts and he can't stop it.
The sheer frustration and helplessness are enough to make him want to cry because he can't have this taken and everything hurts so much already.
Crosshair bites him again just for that, and he knows it'll hurt, but he sort of hopes it does. They hurt him first.
"Crosshair," he gasps out, voice strained.
He stubbornly doesn't move or react, feeding with every bit of the desperation he feels.
His brothers hurt him, and they did this – whatever this is, exactly, to him. He doesn't feel bad about it. They're soldiers, anyway. It isn't like Hunter can't handle it. The pain is fading, slowly, bit by bit, and some of the tension has faded. That doesn't mean he's going to let go, because he – he's still hungry, and it's burning at every inch of him.
It feels like he's being taken apart and written and put back together. Something is changing inside him, and Crosshair isn't sure he likes it. He feels... different. Something is... off. Wrong. He feels strangely cold. But the steady flow of Hunter's blood is warm and grounding, and he clings tighter.
**w**
He could, theoretically, shove Crosshair off him. He doesn't really know why he hasn't. Omega is on the way back to the Marauder alone, and the others will be there soon, and Hunter needs to get to them so they can get out of here. They could be hurt. The Empire's still chasing them. They could get killed.
His comm is beeping again, but he can't answer it. Crosshair hasn't even reacted to it.
He hasn't reacted to anything since Hunter last tried shoving him off.
His neck is still throbbing and mostly, he's just confused. At first, Hunter thought he was just being unreasonably childish, because considering the long list of outlandish things that Crosshair has done lately, this would be lowest on the list.
It wasn't until Crosshair started actually drinking his blood that he started genuinely freaking out, because that is not normal.
Crosshair was hurt, badly, and it – it must've been from the ion engine, either when it ignited or the explosion that followed. It wasn't technically Hunter's fault, considering it was Crosshair's choice in the first place – not really, considering it was his chip, but still – but that doesn't make the guilt go away or make him stop feeling sick.
Talking to him won't help. Hunter already tried that. He tried back on the Cruiser and it nearly got Omega killed.
He's afraid to try again, afraid of what it might actually cost. Crosshair nearly killed all of them. Despite the strange, contented calm burning through him at having Crosshair so close, the proximity is making Hunter's skin crawl. He doesn't want to be here like this. He can't reach his blaster, because Crosshair is pinning his arm in a way out of its reach where he dropped it on the rocks a short distance away, and he obviously can't reach his knife.
Not that it would help anyway, because he's not going to stab Crosshair. He's not going to hurt his little brother.
Hunter needs to get back to the others, and he can't –
And what is Crosshair even doing?
Exhaustion is nagging at him, and he's not sure if it's from the bite or everything that's happened on Bracca, or from blood loss.
Crosshair was trying to kill him earlier, so probably, he wouldn't even care. Hunter needs to – the presence is so close, and he still has the same smoky-foggy scent that he always has. Once it would've been soothing, and Hunter loathes how it just sets him on edge now. He can live with Crosshair hurting him. He wouldn't do it if Hunter didn't deserve it on some level or other, even if this isn't him. What Hunter can't live with is Crosshair hurting one of the others. He can't see his family hurting each other.
Crosshair shot Wrecker. He nearly shot Echo and Tech. He was going to incinerate them just... what? Half an hour ago? He has no idea how long Crosshair has been doing this.
Hunter shifts a little, tugging his arm away from Crosshair and gripping his shoulder. "Crosshair," he tries again, for the tenth time or so, "Stop."
His brother hisses frustratedly, pulling his head back a bit.
The weight shift is what he needed to get free. He feels bad about it, but it isn't as though he really has a choice right now. He catches his brother's arm and flips him off, rolling over and snatching his blaster.
Crosshair stumbles to his feet, snarling. Hunter's blood is smeared on his mouth, and it's disturbing. It's dark, dark enough that he can only somewhat see it, probably because he knows where to look. Hunter is very used to Crosshair's temper tantrums, but that isn't what this is. He's downright feral right now, and not at all himself. Not that he really has been since Kaller, but this is different.
He's tense, ready to pounce again, and Hunter steps back, bracing himself. He freezes when he senses more people approaching. Unfamiliar. Not his brothers. Regs – Imperials. And a shuttle – he can both hear and sense its electric field. He needs to get out of here.
There's – too many. Way too many. There's no way out. There are too many people here for Hunter alone to face down, especially with Crosshair as one of them, and with Hunter feeling as out-of-it as he is. He's unsteady, worn, and – he's not in a state to fight right now.
Crosshair lunges at him, and Hunter dives aside, firing at him, still somehow having the sense of mind to flip the setting to stun. It's instinctive, but he hates himself for it a little, even if it misses. They're brothers and he shouldn't have to fight Crosshair. They shouldn't have to hurt each other.
Crosshair freezes, hissing at him, a flare of hurt lighting up his eyes. The shuttle lands, and he's surrounded in moments. Hunter lowers his blaster a bit reluctantly, but he doesn't have a choice. There are too many. He won't be able to make it off.
"Take him aboard," Crosshair orders sharply. He's still not himself, but for a few moments, he seems to have snapped back into something semi-coherent. The regs exchange glances, as do the dark-armored people who Hunter suspects are part of Crosshair's squad, but they move forwards. He doesn't resist, for all that he wants to, as they take his blaster and cuff him, shoving him towards the shuttle.
Take –
What does Crosshair want with him? Why is he doing this? What even is he doing?
He doesn't know and it – he doesn't want to think about Crosshair hurting him. Wrecker had a hard time with it after he woke up from his chip activating, and Crosshair has already done so much worse to all of them. He doesn't know what it would do to Crosshair if he hurt Hunter, or what it would do to the others if they knew.
It's something that they'd have to live with forever and it's – they're brothers. They did everything together, and they always have. They're all each other have ever had, and it's –
It's not Crosshair's fault, but watching it is still hard.
He was injured, probably from the explosion. His face was burned. Hunter saw it far too up-close for his liking. And... he looked crazed. Feral, really. Completely unhinged. Which Hunter already figured out, but this is... different.
They leave Hunter in the back, and he drops onto the floor, panting, leaning against the wall. He's so tired right now, and there's no time to worry about it, but he can't – it won't stop.
Crosshair was just trying to kill him. He won't change that now. He – he'll do it, eventually no doubt, though apparently, it's not something he's going to do fast.
Delightful.
Crosshair steps into the room, and the door hisses shut behind him, leaving them alone. Hunter looks up, jaw clenching, trying to force himself to stay calm. Being afraid won't help.
Inside the shuttle, there's light even if it's dim, though Hunter finally recognizes the look on his brother's face as hunger. Which. Doesn't make any sense.
Crosshair practically jumps him. Again.
His grip is hardly more gentle than last time as he pins him to the floor, pausing only to tug Hunter's helmet off and turn his head a bit to the side – the touch on his forehead is strangely warm and gentle, though – before reattaching himself to Hunter's neck.
What the kriff?
He'd ask, but Crosshair either ignored him entirely or growled at him every time he asked, so he doesn't really think it's worth trying. There's something... non-human about him right now, and Hunter doesn't really know what.
Crosshair pulls his head back after a few moments, hand tightening over Hunter's shoulder. This position can't possibly be comfortable, with Crosshair bodily pinning him down and Hunter's arms squashed between them – his fingers are tingling from the weight. Which. Is the least of his concerns, considering he probably won't be feeling much soon, period.
He glances up at Crosshair, slightly uncertain. His brother's expression is calculating, but the wildness hasn't stopped at all.
"What are you doing?" Hunter asks, tugging at his arms a bit, trying to pry away. He's not actively fighting, but that won't stop him from trying when Crosshair is hurting him.
As usual, he doesn't answer, ducking his head back to Hunter's neck.
Crosshair is about to bite him for the third time now, and he – wait. "Do you have fangs?" he asks incredulously, and he thinks that's more disturbing than anything else that's happened tonight. Almost. The fact that Crosshair was about to incinerate them, and shoot Omega were higher. He can feel something sharp pressed against his skin, and it's too sharp and pointy to be normal. He winces when Crosshair's – seriously are those fangs? – catch one of the already existing breaks in the skin, digging slightly deeper.
"Mm," Crosshair says, "Yes?" It's the first thing he's said to Hunter since he told him to stop fighting earlier.
His hands are cold. He's not really scared anymore, at all, which is weird, because he should be. He should be panicking, fighting back, or – or something. It's not as though he can't, he's just... not. His brother's going to hurt him, some way or another, and Hunter needs to stop that, to protect all of them from that possibility. It would destroy the rest of them. All of them.
He feels it as Crosshair goes back to his... drinking – seriously, when did he decide that was a good idea? And how did he get fangs? That's not normal – his grip not faltering.
Not that he can move much anyway, so the point is moot.
This is such a stupid way to die, Hunter thinks grumpily. He doesn't want to die at all, especially not at his brother's hand, but at the very least, bleeding to death is stupid and certainly not how he ever thought he'd go out. If it weren't happening, Hunter would find the situation too ludicrous to be real. But here it is. He's bleeding to death because Crosshair bit him, and he can't stop it because Crosshair is drinking it. It's an overwhelmingly stupid way to die, is what it is.
There's an outlandish part of his mind that thinks it isn't so bad, all things considered, because at least it doesn't hurt anymore. It could have. Crosshair was about to incinerate him earlier, and for as slow as this is, it's – it doesn't hurt anymore. He feels numb and cold and mostly just tired.
Crosshair felt cold somehow when this started. Now, he feels... warmer than Hunter is.
He doesn't know if the others are safe, but someone's comming him again, and that's been happening pretty incessantly. They probably think he's dead, and he can't call them back to tell them to just leave like he wants to. He promised to take care of the kid, and he...
Death isn't a guarantee, no, but he still...
He's so tired.
"Crosshair?" he asks again, but he doesn't have the strength to try shaking him. Not... anymore. Not now. The closeness is familiar, and it soothes something in him, which is entirely unreasonable because he knows... It's pointless because if Crosshair's intentions were to kill him, nothing he says will make him stop, but that won't stop Hunter from trying. "You need to stop."
His little brother makes a grumpy sound, refusing to move.
Predictable.
He doesn't even know what to do anymore. It's too – his brain is moving too sluggishly to process properly, and Hunter just turns his head a bit, nudging at him, trying to push him off. Crosshair just nuzzles a little closer, still sucking on the wound.
If he didn't have fangs somehow, Hunter would be impressed by his ability to not feel sick by now. He's already starting to majorly question how human Crosshair is right now. He's not behaving very human-like.
The point is moot anyway, because humans don't have fangs.
He needs to make him stop because Hunter can't just die here. The others need him. He doesn't want to fight Crosshair, doesn't have the energy to, even if he did. There's a strange sense calmness to being so close to Crosshair that he doesn't want to ruin, but he – he can't just... give in. The sound that escapes him is half a whine.
Instincts are kicking in full gear, and trying to find a way to make it out, but he can't push Crosshair off him. Can't... stop him. Tried. "Please," he says, a little desperately. Doesn't have the presence of mind to think of anything short of how he can't let Crosshair kill him. Not – that isn't something they can handle.
Crosshair stills, not quite pulling back. Hunter can feel his weight shifting, though it's... different. It feels far away. Everything feels far away. He doesn't have the sense of mind to feel anything about that. It sort of just... is. Normally, he'd feel something when Crosshair's gloved hand touches his cheek. It's light but there, and he leans into it, because it's warm and he's freezing.
The spontaneous show of gentleness makes him wonder if this is intentional for the first time though. He kind of assumed it was. It would make sense if Crosshair was still trying to kill him because he just was, but now, everything is just... confusing. Not as though it really matters though.
He tugs his hand away, dropping it to Hunter's shoulder again, but he's still not stopping.
Hunter goes still, a strangled whine of frustrated desperation escaping him.
That's the first thing that makes Crosshair stop, pulling his head back and shifting to rest it on Hunter's shoulder instead. "Does it hurt?" he asks finally.
It's the most responsive Crosshair has been since – in so long, and he needs to say something, to get him to stop so they can – can –
"It –" Not really. It wouldn't bother him so much if it just hurt. He breathes in and out a few times, trying to figure out how to say this, how to tell him that he's going to die, as if Crosshair even has the choice of being able to care right now. It doesn't hurt, and the contact is actually oddly soothing, so he'd rather it than something worse – but he can't let this happen. Can't just –
Crosshair shifts again, pressing his mouth to Hunter's neck again with a "it won't be much longer."
He knows that. Hedoesn't have much longer. He won't... There's not a way out, unless the others find them first.
Hunter leans closer to him and closes his eyes, because at the end of the day, this is still Crosshair and it's still – could be worse. He could be alone.
It doesn't – didn't – hurt, until it did. It's not until the burning starts up that he realized something is very, very wrong. He's not dying – it feels like he's being rewritten, being ripped apart one molecule at a time. And it's – it's not stopping.
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