Chapter 1 - Some Days It's Hard to See

Plot: When Hunter awakes on the Havoc Marauder, in the past, he learns of their new mission to Kaller. But this time, he knows what will happen, and he will do whatever he must to keep his squad together. This time, he will not let Crosshair be lost to them. This time, he will not let Tech die. This time, he will not let Omega be taken. No one will ever be left behind again.

Author's Note: This fic was so, so much fun to write, and I loved it to pieces! This is for the Clone Bang, and since it has to be fully posted by February 5th, it'll be updated almost daily. Lol. It's quite a wild ride, and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! My artist for this fic is ReadingBlueWolf on ao3 ( DivilusCorner on tumblr) who drew several pieces of art that will be posted along with the chapters they're for. :)

Finally, all the chapter titles come from the song Dynasty which fits this fic sooooo well. :D

~ Amina Gila

Crosshair's loss fractured them.

Tech's loss gutted them.

Omega's loss... destroyed them.

"We are going to get her back. And we don't stop searching until we do."

Maybe Wrecker and Echo haven't said it, and probably, they never will, because they're too wrapped up in their grief, but all of this... it's Hunter's fault. He was their leader. He was supposed to protect them.

"A real leader protects his squad."

"Look where that's gotten you. They're all going to die here because of your failed leadership."

The words echo in his mind, sharp and cutting. The failure even more so. He failed them. All of them. Crosshair accused him of making the wrong calls, and Hunter hadn't wanted to see it at the time, but... well, Crosshair has always been good at seeing things. Hunter had blinded himself to the truth, and everyone else paid for it. If it had been him, he could have handled the cost. But the cost was Tech sacrificing himself so they could escape. The cost was Omega being captured by the Empire, taken to an unknown location, where they may not be able to find her.

They won't stop searching, of course. They'll search for her until they find her... or they'll die trying. Hunter will accept nothing less.

(He will not let himself think of Crosshair, will not let himself hope that, when they find Omega, they might find Crosshair, too.)

If he can get Omega back, that will make up for some of his failures, and then, he can lay down the mantle of leadership. He can put aside his training as a soldier and take his squad, his family, and go live a quiet life on Pabu. They need to settle down. They need to find a quiet place to live like they should have from the start.

Hunter cannot let this happen again. He doesn't think he can survive losing anyone else.

**w**

He doesn't know what it is that wakes him, but one moment, he's sleeping restlessly, and the next, he's jerking to wakefulness. The low hum of the Marauder's engines filters into his perception, even as he tries to figure out what it was that woke him so suddenly. Except then, he hears it again, a quiet sound coming from the cockpit.

Voices.

Familiar voices.

His heart lurches, twisting painfully at the cadence of Crosshair's voice, followed by the murmur of Tech's.

... Wait. That – that doesn't –

Hunter is up before he even thinks about moving, head spinning dizzily as he shoves his way back to the gunner's mount, to Omega's room. He stops at the bottom of the ladder, hand curling against the wall as a new wave of grief crashes over him. It's empty, just as it was the last two dozen times he was back here. No matter how many times he thinks it must have been a horrible nightmare, every time he opens his eyes, Omega is still gone, and her room is just as empty.

... Except it's empty. Bare. Stripped of everything that made it hers. The blankets, lights, curtains... they're gone. Even Lula is gone.

"Hunter?"

Distantly, he recognizes the worried tone of Echo, but he can't respond to it, his heart pounding too hard, breath coming in short gasps. He's spiraling, he knows, but – but –

It all feels so pointless, so hopeless, most of the time. Omega is gone. He failed her. He failed her. He should have known better, done better. He should have –

"Hunter?"

It's Crosshair this time, a faintly puzzled note in his voice, but that doesn't make sense. He's not here he's –

Omega.

He can't focus on anything but the emptiness of the gunner's mount, the crippling knowledge that he failed her. All this time, ever since it happened so many days – weeks? Months? Time has no meaning anymore – ago, Hunter has thrown himself into the search. He's hardly eaten or slept, staving off the grief through sheer willpower and determination.

He doesn't cry. He hasn't cried since he was still a cadet, probably, but seeing the gunner's mount empty, stripped of Omega's vibrant personality, hearing the ghosts of his dead or missing brothers hanging over him, something in him just... breaks, and he drops to his knees, shaking, a strangled sob torn from him as the tears come, blurring his gaze, falling down his face while memories assault him.

Remembering "plan 99", and the calm certainty in Tech's voice. He did it for them, for all of them, and Hunter had no idea how to deal with it, because he's never seen a brother die before. All he could think of was Omega, getting her to safety and making sure Tech's sacrifice wasn't in vain, even as Omega and Wrecker – and even Echo, because Hunter saw him, saw the silent tears as he stared at the pilot's seat when they were going to Ord Mantell – broke down and cried.

He couldn't let himself falter then because they needed him to be calm and level-headed.

He couldn't let himself be weak even afterwards because Echo and Wrecker needed him to be strong and direct the search for Omega.

Always, he has had to be strong for his brothers. Always. It was different before... before. Crosshair was there, and never have any of them been able to hide from Crosshair. Crosshair, their sniper, their eyes in the sky, who would see shifting micro-expressions and know when they were dealing with anger or grief, and who would always call them out on it.

Hunter couldn't grieve him after they lost him, because at first, he thought they might be able to get him back, somehow, someway, even if they couldn't go back, and later, because it was an open wound, a raw ache that would never heal. It was easier to bury it and move on than try to face it, but it's all coming out now, the deep, visceral agony clawing at his insides, the unbridled grief that's drowning him alive.

And Omega – Omega –

Every time he closes his eyes, he remembers her, remembers her brightness and innocence, her carefreeness and compassion, her laughter and cheerfulness... her sorrow and tears.

"Tech's not gone!"

"Omega's not going anywhere with you."

"Omega, look out!"

"There was no way to track Hemlock's ship."

He would have gladly died to keep her safe, and distantly, he remembers Hemlock's words – "Well, who knew clones are so paternal? Fascinating." – and he wonders, is this what it means to... have a child? To be willing to die for them without a second thought? To sacrifice everyone and everything if needed? All of them would have done it. Tech did do it. Is that – is this what it is then?

... Does it matter?

Omega is still gone, and he needs to get up and keep moving what is he doing he doesn't have time for this he needs to –

"Hunter."

It's Echo, the worry in his tone unmistakable, and Hunter blinks through his tears, choking on a sob as he registers the familiar heartbeat of his ori'vod. Echo's heartrate is faster than normal, unsurprisingly – it's not every day that Hunter has a meltdown in front of him... or ever, for that matter.

"What's wrong?" Echo asks carefully.

Hunter doesn't look at him, can't bring himself to do so, unwilling to see the pity or worse, concern. Omega – he failed her he –

"Sorry," he mutters, voice strangled by his tears as he harshly swipes them away, no matter that more keep falling despite his best efforts. He sucks in a strangled breath, swallowing another sob. "Sorry," he repeats. "I just... Omega. We..." failed her, lost her.

"Hey, it's okay," Echo soothes, but there's a note of confusion in his voice.

Hunter tries to ground himself, focusing on the sound of Echo's heartbeat, the sensation of the vibrations in the floor of the Maurader, and he closes his eyes, shutting out the empty gunner's mount, focusing.

Wait.

Empty?

He's still shaking minutely, but he feels better, strangely, if exhausted and embarrassed by his very not-secret meltdown in front of his squad.

But... the gunner's mount shouldn't be empty. Neither Wrecker nor Echo would ever have touched it, unless it's to sit on the edge, surrounding themselves by Omega's presence. Hunter would sit there for hours, sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, letting the still lingering scent of her wash over him.

It's not there now. In fact, there's no trace of her at all, and that doesn't make sense that –

He opens his eyes again, now acutely aware that something is horribly, horribly wrong. Or right, maybe, depending on his point of view. If there's no traces of Omega... is this even real?

"What's happening?" he asks, trying to go for his normal voice and failing abysmally at that, even when he clears his throat.

Echo rocks back, a small frown on his face when Hunter looks at him. And then he double takes because those aren't their colors. After Kamino, they all repainted their armor, so they'd be less recognizable. But the armor Echo has on now, sans helmet, has red markings instead of orange ones. It's the armor he wore before... before.

"We're enroute to Kaller now," Echo answers slowly.

Hunter blinks, but the words don't change. "Kaller?" he echoes. That... was months ago.

"That is correct," comes Tech's voice, and he bodily flinches at the familiarity of it. "We have been deployed to Kaller to assist General Billaba."

Whatever else Tech might have said is lost as Hunter clambers his way to his feet, swaying slightly, ducking away from Echo when he reaches out to steady him, and shoving past Crosshair – Crosshair who is here and alive and... and theirs, but he can't think about that now – and bolting into the 'fresher, letting the door slide closed behind him, ignoring their surprised and worried voices.

Once inside, he collapses to the floor, gasping for breath, trembling violently. What – what the kriff is happening?!

He presses shaking hands onto the floor, staring down at the armor on his arms, his body. It's... different, and he can't deny the reality of it, of all of this. But... what does it mean? How is it possible? It's not possible for him to be in the past, is it? Maybe. He's no Jedi; it's not like he knows if things like this are even possible. But he can't deny what his eyes are telling him. If this was fake, it shouldn't seem so... real.

But at the same time, Hunter doesn't know if he can believe it. All this time, the one thing that he's wanted most is a chance to do it all over, to fix it. He can't accept that he really has it, can't accept that it's real, because if it turns out that this is nothing more than a dream, he'll... shatter.

Maybe this is real, maybe it's not. He can't trust it, but he can... work with it. Pretend, at least. If he has this chance for real, this chance to save Crosshair, to keep Tech alive, to protect Omega, then he'll take it. He'll take it no matter the cost to himself.

He leans back against the door, closing his eyes and focusing his senses on listening. His brothers' voices are muffled somewhat, but he could probably make out words if he tries – but he's not trying. Instead, Hunter focuses on listening, picking out their heartbeats one by one. Crosshair's, slow and steady. Wrecker's, which is stronger and a little faster. The calm, steady rhythm of Echo's. The lighter, faster one of Tech's. He listens harder before realizing that he's instinctively searching for the rapid, light tempo of Omega's and stops listening, thunking his head against the door and sighing.

Shakily, he pushes himself to his feet, flexing his fingers before slowly looking at himself in the small mirror. He looks much the same, but... his eyes are dimmer, haunted. Even if he wanted to keep this a secret, it would never work. His brothers will ask questions, and he'll have to answer. Sort of. Maybe. He doesn't know if he has the ability to talk about everything yet, though, and he doesn't know what it will affect if he does tell them anything. Maybe – maybe right now he'll just keep this close to himself and try to be the leader he should have been. He'll try to protect his squad the way he should have from the start.

He splashes water on his face to eliminate any traces of tears, hesitating before finally, reluctantly, opening the 'fresher door.

And immediately facing down four pairs of equally worried eyes. Hunter squares his shoulders, meeting his brothers' gazes with a calm confidence that he doesn't truly feel. "I'm fine," he says roughly, as if it's perfectly normal for him to have a random, unprovoked meltdown in front of them... or even ever.

"And I'm a Jedi," Crosshair drawls after a heartbeat of incredulous silence.

Once, Hunter would have bristled at the sarcasm, but now, it takes all of his willpower not to flinch. As is, he doesn't think he quite succeeds at keeping the aching hurt off his face. But kriff, he has missed Crosshair so much. Each moment without him has been an acute agony of its own, no matter how accustomed he became to living without him. Crosshair is one of them. He's their brother. He always has been and always will be, regardless of what he chose, of what he chooses.

"We have not always agreed with Crosshair, but he is still our brother."

Hunter became accustomed to the ache of his absence, to the knowledge that he would never hear the unique brand of snide sarcasm that's all Crosshair. He got used to the fact that he would never breathe in the scent of him in the Marauder, and as he inhales a shaky breath, keeping control of himself through sheer willpower, he can now smell how different it is here. It's... them. All of them. It smells the way it did before Omega joined them, before her scent mingled with theirs and Crosshair's faded.

"It was... nothing," he insists, because now that they're here facing him, he can't even begin to imagine trying to tell them what happened, how badly he failed. He clenches his hands to hide the faint tremor in them, well aware of the visible tension in his shoulders as he crosses back to his rack and settles on it, staring pointedly at the wall, not them. He can imagine their expressions well enough, and he doesn't think he can bear to look Crosshair or Tech in the eyes without crying again.

"That... was not nothing," Echo says finally.

"I had a dream," he grinds out, because what else can he call it? "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."

He doesn't see Crosshair move – he's not in his peripheral vision – but he hears the movement, and a toothpick hits the side of his head. He jerks, glancing at it, before turning a glare on Crosshair, who just stares back unrepentantly. They grew up together; of course, he doesn't find Hunter's current expression any more intimidating than he has the past three thousand times he's seen it.

"I said I'm fine!"

"Oh, we believe you," Crosshair answers snidely.

"My scans show that your stress levels are abnormally elevated," Tech reports, and Hunter flinches at the sound of his voice. "When have we ever followed orders." There was so much resignation and acceptance and determination in those words. The mere memory feels like a vibroblade even now.

"Must have been quite the dream," Echo murmurs dryly, frowning.

"Uh yeah," Wrecker agrees, rubbing his left ear. "It didn't really seem like you're fine."

"... I don't want to talk about," he settles on finally. We lost the kid. I lost the kid. Our squad fell apart, and it was my fault.

The others don't even know who Omega is, and that realization challenges his ability to maintain his composed façade. They don't remember her. ... She doesn't remember them or any of the things they've been through. For some reason, that part hurts even worse, and Hunter ducks his head, focusing on breathing through the sudden rush of emotion.

"I'll be fine," he states once he's certain that his voice will be level – he can feel their eyes on him as they try to figure out what to do. "I just need... some time to sort things out."

(Can you do it though? The snide voice in the back of his mind is mocking. Can you really try to be a leader, even after you've failed? You kept making the wrong choices before. How do you know you don't do it again?)

But he doesn't have a choice, does he? He's the only one who saw everything, the only one who might be able to spare them what the future holds. The burden is heavy, crushing, and Hunter has no idea how he'll be able to bear it, especially for long-term. Is he really strong enough to withstand the pressure and not make things worse?

I guess I'll find out, he thinks grimly.

"Okay," Echo finally offers, brow furrowed with worry he's not even trying to conceal. "Well, you can talk to us, any of us, about... anything."

"I appreciate it," he replies, though he already knows that he probably never will, not for a while. Right now, he just needs time. Absently, he pulls the vibroblade from its sheath on his wrist, spinning it between his fingers, staring at it so he can avoid the probing gazes of his brothers. A silent communication passes between them, but no one speaks aloud.

After a few moments, Wrecker drops onto the rack opposite him, while Tech and Echo retreat towards the cockpit through they don't leave the room. Crosshair stays where he was, leaning against the wall, eyes fixed unerringly on him. Hunter can feel the gaze, though he doesn't meet it. He does his best not to keep stealing glances at his youngest brother, but it's not easy, not when a part of him can't quite accept that this is Crosshair here, alive and breathing and theirs. There's a sharpness in his eyes, one that's always been ever-present, but lurking beneath that is a certain softness that is all Crosshair. He hides his feelings well, his compassion that is so like Omega's, but they all know each other too well.

... Or they did.

Hunter still doesn't know when things changed so much or how. He still doesn't know why Crosshair chose to walk away from them, staying with the Empire, even if he eventually turned on it. And he knows that he's different, too, now. He's not the person he was before... all of this. Maybe it won't be easy, but if he can save them, all of them, he thinks it will be worth whatever struggles they endure along the way.

Final Notes: Reviews are always appreciated! ^-^

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