Payback
Author's Note: Yes, I know this is an Imperial AU and should probably be very angsty but it's genuinely one of the crackist things I have ever written. Also. I made it to cope with an awful Imperial AU I saw (I can detail but it's not really important), hence the insanity level. Sometimes things hafta be dark for families to stay together. 💖
~ Rivana Rita
PS. This is for the square "friendly competition" on the Bad Batch bingo. :) We've finished our first bingo card! :D
~ Amina Gila
Hunter would have thought working for the Empire would have guaranteed them some sort of... safety or something, but he was wrong.
Maybe it's just the Jedi-hunting thing.
Or something.
Can't take time or energy to regret much of that now, though. He has a burn hole in his gut somewhere that he isn't about to look at. Tech tried to treat it, but there's not a lot he can do until they get some place he can be treated properly. There's not a lot Tech can do, other than cutting the pain, which isn't much.
It still hurts.
He should just be grateful he's still alive.
It's not much different than a blaster shot, just minus the heat, the force of impact, but it's bigger, so they mostly cancel out.
Echo's hand is in his, and he tries not to hold it too tightly, but everything hurts, and he's exhausted enough to sleep for a week straight, if he were able to sleep at all. He can't. It hurts, and he can't do anything short of breathing in strangled gasps. Doesn't quite know if the blade went all the way through or not, and he doesn't want to know.
Crosshair is also, unfortunately, a bit high.
A bit.
He was hurt, too, and he and Wrecker are attempting to distract Omega, because she does not need to sit here through this, too.
He's only half aware of what they're saying, and it doesn't really matter. All he does know is that it's very distracting. His head is throbbing, and he really wants to sleep.
Wrecker and Crosshair are squabbling, something about drawing of all things in the galaxy.
"Tell me we don't have paint on board," Hunter grumbles, because he Does Not Want to wake up to the absolute chaos the kids will be getting into in his absence.
"Actually, we do," Tech informs him, altogether too cheerfully for the circumstances. He's not the one with a hole in him, though. If he did, no one would be so flippant about it, either. Hunter can take it – will take it, for his brothers if he has to – but they – he couldn't let them get hurt.
Crosshair was hurt anyway, though.
It could've been worse. One of them could've died – they were being sent after an alleged Jedi Council Member, after all.
They're piled on one of the racks together, and Hunter's scooted over to against the wall, so they have enough room to sit on the edge beside him. It's – relaxing to at least not be here alone.
"Where should Lula go?" Omega asks distantly, and that's the first thing Hunter actually registers. Maybe the pain meds are really kicking in right about now – he's actually semi-capable of rational thought. Meaning, he feels marginally less like curling up in a miserable ball in the corner.
"What are they doing?" Hunter queries warily, cracking an eye open to look up at them.
"You do not want to know," Tech replies.
"Tell me they're not wrecking the ship."
Echo looks over to the others – he's blocking Hunter's view where he sits next to him on the edge of the rack – and laughs. "Close enough. Would you like to see for yourself?"
He presses Echo's hand tighter against him. "Not really."
"Nothing is broken," Tech reassures lightly.
Honestly.
There are ways to ruin something without breaking it.
But Tech is Tech, and doesn't understand half of normal terms in the way everyone else does.
They made it out, and that's what matters. Even if Hunter is injured, and they don't really know how bad it is past what they could see. He doesn't know the... extent of the damage, but it's bad.
At least it could be.
He doesn't really know, and he'd much rather hear about it afterwards, because it's not like knowing will make it any less.
But it hurts. It's distracting and mind-numbing, and he thought it'd be better by now. He genuinely thought it wouldn't be so hard. They're trained for this. He just needs something to distract himself with.
Something bright magenta catches his eye, and he blinks. "Crosshair, what are you doing?" If they wreck the Marauder, Tech is going to murder them. To be fair, Hunter will, too.
"Drawing," Omega chirps, and there's a shuffling and thump as Wrecker sets her down on the floor.
"Why are you drawing on the wall?" Hunter asks incredulously.
"Do we need a reason?" Crosshair snips back.
He has no idea why his brothers are like this. They're insane, but he adores it and them, no matter how much of a headache they give him. Hunter blinks the haziness from his vision and Echo squeezes his hand. Hunter squeezes it back. "Yes."
Wrecker and Crosshair look at each other and immediately launch into a jumbled, half on top of each other speech explanation for something-something family something and Lula and–
"Hold on," Hunter asks, twisting onto his side in an effort to make it to sitting up, and winces when the movement jars his injuries again. He doesn't want to move, but it's – this is something, too. Something to focus on. "What does Vader have to do with this?" It's the only name – word – he's been able to make sense of.
"He gave this to me," Omega chirps, holding up the way-too-colorful paint set that the Sith did, in fact, give to her. She's been carrying it around non-stop ever since, trying to find something to use it on. "I've been waiting to use it."
Hunter blinks. "I thought that was for the outside?"
"What's the point?" Crosshair asks.
Stars. He and Echo are the only adults aboard. "It's what everybody sees."
"But it'll get blown up," Wrecker argues.
"You mean scratched up," Omega whisper-corrects.
Hunter looks past Echo, who's steadying him upright now. Tech slides off the rack altogether, eyeing the wall warily.
"That's me," Omega says cheerfully, pointing at a circular-ish shape on the wall. It's silver with magenta marks on it – actually, it looks like the pendant she was wearing when they picked her up from Kamino. It's far too neat to be Wrecker's, and a little too sloppy and not-straight for Crosshair, but it's still impressive.
"What's the spikey thing?" Okay, he's definitely a bit loopy, because that's one of the most ineloquent things Hunter has ever said.
"That's an explosion!" Wrecker whines. "It's me."
"Huh." He can see the resemblance in Wrecker's brain, anyway. It's orange with a bunch of sloppy gold scribbles in the center. Still doesn't see the point, though. "What're all the lines?"
"It's a family tree," Crosshair says.
Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Shaeeah drew one on Saleucami. Hunter remembers thinking it was kind of adorable. First time he'd even heard of such a thing.
"Is that Vader?" he asks, eyes jumping to the strange black helmet shaped thing marked as their parent. It looks like Wrecker or Omega's work; he's not sure which. It's a bit rough and probably unfinished, too.
"Yep!" Omega tells him cheerfully, as if there's nothing at all strange or wrong about that. Which there is, thank you very much. There are a million things wrong with that statement, starting that he's their superior by dozens of levels, and Hunter doesn't even care to start counting.
She looks so bright and hopeful about it though, and he doesn't quite find it in himself to start explaining it. He probably should, because rank is important, and – and Hunter cares about him too, but it's not...
"Family trees only have two shapes," Tech interjects, "Squares or circles, depending on –"
"We know," Wrecker tells him gleefully, throwing an arm around his shoulder and ignoring his disgruntled look, "But that's boring."
"That is not an excuse to do it incorrectly."
"It's our wall," Crosshair shrugs, "We do what we want with it."
Doesn't explain why the lines connecting them are drawn in bright magenta. Or why Crosshair's symbol is the same color. It's a shade Hunter genuinely thought would grate on him, but apparently... not? Not too far off from red, at least. That was probably Omega's idea, but it's neat and straight enough that it had to have been Crosshair's work.
It figures he'd do something just that outlandish of Omega asked him to.
And – wait.
"Is that Lula?" Yeah, he sounds freaked out. The mere implication of Wrecker and Crosshair having a kid sort of frozen his brain. And not the little-sister-adoption kind, the whatever natborn thing is.
...
Okay, Omega put Vader as their father, and that's not remotely true, and nor did he adopt them – why would he? Why would anyone? What does that even mean? – but for some reason, that's not a fraction as disturbing.
He's not about to try explaining the reasons he doesn't understand himself for why that makes no sense though.
"Yeah," Wrecker agrees, smacking the doll in Crosshair's face and ignoring his yowl.
Hunter has no idea how he got across the Marauder and back in about five seconds. Either he's that energetic, or Hunter's half out of it, which – okay, he is.
He's only half aware of what's happening, and he really wants to sleep, but everything hurts, and he can't quite manage it.
He is also fairly certain Crosshair took the time to draw her face on, because it's way too neat to be anyone else's work.
"We didn't think she should be our sister," Omega explains, stealing away her apparently-niece while looking visibly annoyed by her mistreatment.
"Yeah." He agrees. Can't imagine anyone except Omega being their sister. Doesn't really know what that means.
"This is Tech," Omega continues cheerfully, pointing at the... orange squiggles?
"I do not see how that represents me," Tech whines.
"And this is you," Omega tells him proudly, pointing at the brown and dark green scribbles – is that a tree? Or just scribbles? It looks like someone tried making a very skinny, tall brown thing and then started drawing green on for background, and then it started overlapping wildly. That was most definitely not Crosshair's work.
It's probably Wrecker's doing, and Crosshair no doubt let him just to annoy Hunter.
Speaking of Crosshair, Hunter's half certain he and Wrecker are chasing each other around the ship now, and he has no idea how they have the energy for that when he just wants to curl up in a miserable ball in the corner again. Echo squeezes his hand, and Hunter pushes himself the rest of the way upright, leaning into his side.
The movement hurts, but he's more comfortable sitting than half laying, anyway.
"Why's it so tall?" Hunter asks, staring at the sad excuse for a tree that is apparently supposed to be him?
"Because you are," Crosshair snips.
The only movable object nearby is Echo, and Hunter is decently certain if he tries throwing his older, half metal brother at Crosshair, he'll end up flat on his face on the floor, and he thinks the drop would probably really, really hurt in his present condition. That's on the assumption Echo wouldn't throw him, first.
"Where's Echo?" Hunter asks instead, opting for a glare that completely unfazed Crosshair. There's another part, sort of... unfinished. Omega is beside Crosshair, and the line on top goes on a good distance after, then just drops off.
"We haven't finished yet," Omega explains.
"Can I be blue?" Echo asks, already on-board with all of their insanity. "Or gray?"
"Why one, when you can be both?" Crosshair asks, back at the paint-thing that Hunter can't see clearly from here. Never looked at it in detail, either. Didn't really matter.
He leans farther into Echo's side, vision hazing over a bit. The pain's not as sharp as it ought to be at least, but it's still far from pleasant. Still feels like he could sleep for a week, though.
"Lay back down," Echo says, twisting to face him, and Hunter lets him push him back down.
"How long 'til we get there?"
Tech calls something from up front, and Echo looks back at Hunter. "About twenty minutes."
That's not too long. If he survives that long.
**w**
"You made it back," a familiar, deep voice says. Hunter's a little too out-of-it to open his eyes right now.
"And worse for wear," Echo deadpans.
"You should have waited until I arrived."
"If the rumors were true, and the Jedi was who it was said he would be, if he's the one who hurt you, we couldn't let that stop us," Echo tells him seriously.
"You could have died."
"We are aware," Tech grumbles.
He feels a heavy, metal hand squeeze his shoulder, and some of his tension fades instinctively. They're safe here. Hunter knows that touch, that warmth. They'll be fine.
"Can I call you dad?" Crosshair asks out of nowhere, and Hunter groans. Every single person in the room is hopelessly insane. ... Except Omega. Crosshair is nine years old, and he still acts like a five-year-old. You do not say those things to your superiors. Hunter genuinely thought that was obvious.
There's a metal screeching sound in the background. "I would be honored."
May the Force help him.
**w**
When he awakens again, there's something warm curled around him, and from the weight, he instantly recognizes it as Crosshair. Typical. Apparently, the fact that Hunter was stabbed hasn't made him any less clingy. Or gentler. He's a bit glad about that, because he does not want to be treated like broken glass or something equally ridiculous. He's still their sergeant, and he's perfectly capable of being hurt, thank you very much.
Even if this is far worse than what they've ever dealt with in the past. Except when they nearly lost Wrecker.
Crosshair's arm is draped around his waist, safely above the wound, but still close enough that he's surprised Echo and Tech didn't chew him out for doing so.
He can sense their heartbeats, can smell the way their scents mingle together like home even if the smell of the medbay he's in is overwhelming and annoying. They're here. He's safe.
And atop of all of them, he can feel the intensity of electricity around... someone. Vader's here. Of course, he is. He would be. He'd come to make sure they're okay.
He would do that. He always does that, and it's relieving to work with someone else who cares about them. It's not that Cody didn't – but this is still different. It feels more personal in a way he can't quite place or understand.
(Maybe it's just a forever deep felt longing to feel loved and protected, and he feels that with his brothers, but here's more distinct and overwhelming and singular, because Hunter's not in charge here – he doesn't have to worry about anything, except just being. And he doesn't want to fail him, not because it's not what they do, but because he wants that... acceptance. Maybe what Crosshair and Omega said has a little more truth to it than he wants to admit.)
"Hunter," he says evenly. His voice always sounds toneless. Hunter still remembers when they first met him, when he was still a Jedi, before his injuries and before the Empire. He's every bit as passionate, though now, it's taken a bit more... ruthlessness to it.
It doesn't matter.
He's still him.
He's still Anakin, and Echo's best friend.
He's still their – their – something. Hunter can't name what they are. It doesn't matter. It's a little like what they have with Cody, just fifty times more intense, and it's weird because he's a natborn, not another clone.
"Vader," Hunter greets him, blinking a few times. The helmeted face comes into focus, blurry but present. Here.
Safe.
This is also the first time it really sunk in that they failed. It was sort of a blur, but the Jedi had slashed Crosshair's arm open badly, and Hunter went at him with his knife, and then...
Yeah.
He remembers falling, remembers seeing Wrecker lunging at the Jedi, remembers hearing him hitting something as he was thrown back with the Force, and... the Jedi left from something he doesn't exactly know. Doesn't really matter. The only thing that does is that they're fine.
He blinks a few times, and the Sith's hand touches his shoulder again.
"We weren't prepared for what we were up against," he admits, a few moments later. He's not present enough to loop it together into a cohesive argument as to why it wasn't their fault, and there's nothing they could've done, but it's instinctive because they can't fail. It's not something they do, and they could be decommissioned or – or –
And he knows it wouldn't be Vader that hurt them, but other people could and that's just what happens –
"I am aware," Vader replies. Hunter can't read his tone. He hates that about it – it's so hard to know how they're supposed to respond to anything he says. "You should have awaited my arrival."
"We had a chance to get him, and he was leaving the planet," Hunter argues, "But next time..."
"Acceptable," he agrees begrudgingly, "If it were him, he could have killed you." The air feels staticky and warm in a way he can't really understand, but Echo said he often felt that if his General was emotional about something. Something about the Force that Hunter doesn't understand.
"We'll be careful," he offers weakly.
"You had best be."
Crosshair's awake now, and he's moving around a little, grip tightening from its former relaxed sleep-state. He scoots closer to press his forehead against Hunter's neck, soaking up his warmth. Hunter reaches up to squeeze his shoulder – he can't move his other arm. Can't really feel it either, actually – thank you, Crosshair.
He's annoying and he's adorable and Hunter loves him with the fire of a thousand suns, and he'd do anything for him to keep him here. All of his brothers mean everything to him in their own way.
He becomes abruptly aware of how Vader stopped talking. He's just staring at them, and Hunter can't help feeling mildly self-conscious. "What?" he asks.
"He reminds me of Ahs- someone I once knew."
There's a heartbeat of awkward silence.
"I never asked Tech what information he got," Hunter says, just to break the silence, and because he's fairly certain Vader's brooding about something. He's lost a lot, and no one knows the details. "If any."
"We can discuss it when you are in better condition."
"I'm fine," Hunter argues instinctively.
Crosshair scoffs. He's still wrapped half around Hunter, and he doesn't want to move. It's comfortable, but it's not really the best way to talk to anyone. To be fair, Vader knows them, so it's not as... ridiculous as it would be otherwise. He presses a hand against Hunter's side, nuzzling against him.
If anyone tried to pry him off, though, Hunter's fairly certain he'd either start yowling or biting, not quite sure which.
"You are not fine," Vader snaps back sharply, "You could have died."
They haven't known him for very long, but he still cares about them, and vice versa.
He's their friend. It's been a few months or so, maybe longer – it's blurred together a lot, if Hunter's being honest. The time doesn't really matter. They've been successful on all their missions, until right now.
Always have been.
He thought they always would be. There's still a chance to fix this though, probably. The win is that they all made it out.
"I know." That doesn't really feel like what he needs to say. Instinct tells him to point out that he's fine, but actually, Hunter has no idea if he's going to be fine or not. He never had time to ask them that. He turns his head in search of Tech – he's sleeping beside Wrecker and Echo. Omega's curled up in a ball, still fast asleep, right beside his bed.
"They are safe," Vader tells him, and Hunter gives a half-hearted nod.
"Yeah, I know."
Crosshair shifts a little, undoubtedly more alert, though still obviously reluctant to move. Hunter doesn't want him to, either. This is comfortable.
"Thank you," Hunter adds, because they owe Vader this, "For helping us."
"It was the right thing to do."
Their relationship is... complicated. He doesn't fully know what all it entails, what it even is, but it isn't something he ever wants to change. Doesn't think it will, but he doesn't really know – they've never had friends before. Not really. For clones, natborns are always... they're always something they need to be careful with. Respectful but still, careful.
He trusts Vader, and Echo does, and he's always helped them, but Hunter still worries.
He's afraid of... doing something that could change things. Of failing.
Which they just did.
It's not like that for Vader, though. That's just old insecurities talking. He's safe. He'll stay.
He touches Hunter's forehead again – he's on the same side as Crosshair, because the other is occupied by Omega. "Stay safe," he half orders, "I would prefer he escape if it meant your survival."
"We're okay," he offers, a little awkwardly. He doesn't understand emotions much, and with his brothers, it's different, because they grew up together. Echo isn't really emotional in the first place. Vader is. Everything about him is, and he cares about them.
They're family. Maybe – they are, even if it's hard to understand.
(Crosshair called him dad. Is that the right term? Could be. He's never felt... protected by anyone before. Never felt this overwhelming need to – to make someone want him. It was similar with Echo, but this is far more overwhelming.)
Crosshair shifts a little again, pushing himself up. Hunter sits up, gasping faintly at the flare of pain. It's better than earlier, but still not gone, and he needs to be careful about moving. He's still not about to just sit around though.
He's not going to just lay here when he doesn't have to, either. That's more instinctive than anything else – he's their leader, and he can't afford to be... well, useless.
"Do you know where the Jedi went?" Hunter asks. He wishes he'd been able to just – finish it when he was about to. He didn't get the chance before getting a lightsaber through his gut, though.
"Possibly," Tech replies – they're all awake now, and disentangling themselves from their blankets or each other. He's saying something about having to analyze the – something Hunter doesn't fully have the mind to understand right now.
"It's a lead, anyway," Hunter says.
"One I will follow," Vader adds pointedly. "You will remain here until you're recovered."
"That's a given," Echo agrees dryly.
That won't be long. Really. Hopefully anyway – he hates sitting still.
He's also not sure if they finished the – family tree thing yet.
"The kids are obsessed with that paint," he adds dryly.
"Kids?" Crosshair echoes, perking up and glaring.
He can't help laughing. "You were painting pink all over the walls, Crosshair."
"Maybe I should paint your armor pink."
He jumps out of the way when Hunter swats at him. Not fair, because he can't move after. He can't move much at all, actually, at least not fast. Moving still hurts.
"Don't even think about it," he grumbles.
"Too late," Crosshair tells him gleefully.
Behind Hunter, Echo snorts, but he's perfectly content with watching the chaos unfold.
"Crosshair, don't tease your brother," Vader of all people scolds, pulling him back.
That's the closest Hunter's seen to a pout on his face. "Why?" he whines, "He's not breakable."
Vader crosses his arms and looks at him.
Omega giggles. Tech is smirking, and Wrecker's just staring. Hunter's staring, half amused, half smug that Vader intervened on his behalf. They've worked with him enough that it feels like he's one of them, even if technicalities and whatnot still keep them separate. Rules have never much mattered to their squad, though.
Crosshair gives in first with an annoyed huff. "Fine," he grumbles.
Vader pats his head, and Hunter's almost entirely convinced Crosshair's going to make a very fruitless attempt to bite him in retaliation, which is, well, definitely something his little brother would do to Hunter in retaliation, but this is – not someone he grew up with? And he can't help being perpetually paranoid about what it'll take, what they'll do to push him away.
It's happened every other time.
Echo and Omega are the only two who've stuck through with them, because it's different for them, and they're clones, too. They're not regs.
Hunter doesn't know what would happen to them if they didn't have the Sith here to protect them, and he doesn't want to think about it.
Vader catches his gaze, and Hunter can never see his face, but if he could, he's certain he'd see the overwhelming, burning passion in the same sky-blue of his eyes. Now, there's only the dark red visor lenses. He swallows the flare of resentment it makes him feel when he remembers they'll probably never get to see them again, because of the Jedi.
It's no wonder Vader is so bent on destroying them, really. If someone hurt Hunter that bad, he'd want to murder them, too. Never mind his brothers would've already done it – if it were possible, at least.
"A word?" Vader requests.
Hunter nods to him, standing, wincing a little as he does – moving hurts an almost unreasonable amount, but he'll be fine. Wrecker and Tech are squabbling about something he's not paying attention to already – typical – as he and Vader turn towards each other.
"Don't be afraid," he says, touching Hunter's shoulder – his hand heavy and warm and present. Grounding.
The words confuse him a little, though. "I'm not." It comes out more a question than a statement.
"I have dealt with far worse chaos than yours," he replies dryly, "You need not fear me leaving."
"How'd you know?" Hunter asks, staring at him, though he shouldn't be so surprised. He just knows things most of the time, even if it shouldn't be possible. Hunter can read his brothers well, and vice versa, but he always thought it was something special, just for them.
"I sense it," he answers, "And... I understand it."
He doesn't know what to say to that. He's never had anyone who understood him before. Doesn't really know what that means. "Thank you," he offers instead. There's not really more he can say than that.
"I will be fine," Vader adds, "I always am."
Always certainly isn't the word Hunter would use, but he just nods – there's nothing he can do about it more than he already tried, anyway. He leans into the Sith's touch a little, oddly unsurprised when Vader tugs him into a hug.
Hunter clings to him, letting himself momentarily bask in the feeling of protection – he's safe and secure here in a way that he isn't and never could be with anyone else. His brothers will always protect him if he needs it, but it's different here, because he doesn't have to worry about Vader.
The strange level of devotion he feels is... overwhelming, and not something he understands, but maybe the kids are right.
Right on cue, Omega pops up beside him. "Dad, can I paint your cape?"
Hunter lifts his head from the Sith's shoulder to see Wrecker and Crosshair exchanging glances in the background – oh, they're all in on it, aren't they? And they had to send Omega to ask in the hopes her puppy-eyed faces would get a yes.
They're not letting this go anytime soon.
After the painting Marauder fiasco, Hunter doesn't even feel bad.
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