Bonus Part: Die

Plot: In which Hunter's wings grow in after Bracca, and none of them can understand why. Omega, as the only Force-sensitive clone, is the only one with wings. Or, in which Tech realizes Hunter's immortal and doesn't quite know how to tell him.

Author's Note: This is for Febuwhump Day Twenty-Three: Alt. Immortality

~ Rivana Rita

Everything hurts. Mostly, his back, and it makes no sense because that wasn't even hurt, right? But still. Ow.

It hurts enough that Hunter somehow finds the strength to lift his head and ask Tech a way too serious "am I dying?" because it feels like he is. He thinks that should hurt about this much. The pain is agonizing, as he inhales and exhales and the slightest movement jars his back and it feels raw, worse than raw. He can't breathe.

Tech stares at him. Hunter hates himself for even having to ask.

He closes his eyes as the scanner runs over him, not watching, not thinking of anything except trying to force air in and out of his lungs, assuming he still has those.

Something on Tech's face betrays his anxiety. Hunter has never seen that look on his brother's face before. Tech doesn't get scared. He just doesn't. He turns away, snapping something at Wrecker that blurs over in Hunter's ears through a distant world of haze.

"I'm giving you a choice." A voice, deep and raspy and familiar but not one Hunter recognizes, though he thinks he should. "Live or die."

"Live," he wants to say, because he doesn't want to die like this, and he shouldn't have asked Tech something so blunt. They're on Bracca, and they need to go, but his chest is burning from the energy bolt that burned through his armor and body and he wonders if it went all the way through, if it burned through the armor on his back, too, how much bone it fractured when it hit.

He can't breathe.

He keeps gasping in air like a fish out of water, or something equally unflattering.

He's so stupid. Should've shot first.

"I do not understand how you are still alive," Tech says finally, holding Hunter's gaze. They've already taken his armor off. The air feels cold. Everything feels cold, and his fingers are digging into the arm of the chair, and he can't breathe why can't he breathe why does it feel like there's no air in here?

"Whaddya mean?" Wrecker asks, sounding freaked out. Hunter can't even focus on what they're saying, if anything – he thinks Tech ignores him entirely, and his vision blacks out entirely as they tug his shirt up and treat him.

His chest isn't throbbing quite so much anymore, but his back is still burning with a white-hot agony enough that he can't breathe and Hunter leans against the armrest, gasping, eyes squeezed shut.

He needs this to stop.

He doesn't know what's wrong.

"How bad?" he asks, even if he should be focusing on Omega right now, they don't have time. He needs to know if he's really dying though. He doesn't want that. It's not until right now that Hunter realizes exactly how terrified he is if dying. He doesn't want to disappear without a trace, doesn't want to be forgotten. He doesn't want to die and fade away. He wants to be their leader, to protect them, to mean something to be something to –

"Bad," Tech replies briskly, but something in his expression tightens when their eyes meet. At least Hunter thinks it does – it's hard to say. Everything is sort of blurry right now.

Tech reaches out to touch his face, tilting his head back a bit and angling him towards the blue glowing screen beside them. His hand feels warm.

"Your irises are black."

What? That doesn't make sense. His mind is too jelly-like to focus on the impossibility of what he's saying. "Are you sure?" he asks, uncomfortableness crawling down his spine.

"Of course, I am certain," Tech replies, annoyed, "When do I say anything when I am uncertain?"

Wrecker groans. "More than ya like!"

The ship jolts, and Hunter gasps, gritting his teeth as the movement jars his body. "We gotta get outta here."

Tech nods to him with a final worried look before moving to the pilot's seat. Hunter realizes through a haze that actually, he never did answer the question. He never said what it was he was so worried about.

His back feels raw and burning. He still can't breathe. He wants to cry, to scream. To – he needs it to stop. His chest isn't throbbing quite as much, but that doesn't change how there's still a hole through him and it feels like someone pressed a red-hot something onto his back. He's breathing in shakily though his teeth and why didn't Tech tell him what's wrong?

Omega's gone and she ought to be here, and they have to find her. He promised to protect her and the first thing he did was get shot.

"Look at you all – scavenging like rats. How pathetic."

He waits until they're in hyperspace to ask Tech again, but the worry in his voice when he said something about – about Hunter's eyes that still doesn't make sense is still nagging at him. Tech comes to scan him again while Echo goes to talk to Cid. The events are blurry, and he still can hardly breathe.

The pain in his back isn't stopping or changing or slowing – it's still as burningly overwhelming as it was an hour ago.

"What is it?" Hunter asks finally when Tech glares at his datapad like it actually insulted him for the first time in their lives.

"I do not understand how you are still alive," Tech tells him bluntly, a repeat of what he'd said earlier, "The shot should have ruptured your heart, but it appears undamaged."

Hunter's head feels fuzzy. So, there's the should-have-died along with his eyes being black?

"There is also something... different in your genetic code, which I cannot understand, but it would appear you are becoming something... other."

He feels cold. "What does that mean?"

"It is registering you as the same near-human species all human Force-users are, though your midi-chlorian count has remained at 9000."

How in the galaxy did he know that? Hunter could've sworn he heard that needed a blood sample, and he's fairly certain that... oh, whatever.

"Only Sith's eyes change color," Echo cuts in, which doesn't help at all.

He's not a Sith or a Jedi or a Force-user at all, or whatever Force nonsense that entails. He doesn't have the Force. Right? "That's not what's important right now," Hunter argues finally, "We have to focus on finding the kid."

**w**

He doesn't feel any better when they get Omega back. He's so happy to see her safe, to hear that she wasn't hurt. She's scared, though, as scared as Hunter is. She's terrified of something happening to her again, and Hunter's vision is blurring at the edges even as he struggles to tell her she'll be fine. He's leaning against the back of the co-pilot's chair, trying to breathe and think and begging it to stop hurting. He doesn't even know what's wrong.

"Are you okay?" Omega asks after his half-hearted attempt at reassuring her she won't have to go back to Kamino. "I know you were hurt."

"It wasn't that bad," Hunter tries lying though he's leaning on her chair for support, and he wonders how pale his face is.

She leans closer, lips twitching into a frown. She's staring, and her gaze is sharply intent and he's irrationally uncomfortable under it. The blatant lack of personal space reminds him of Crosshair who'd do this all the time when he was little because he had no regard for any of that and was the clingiest person in the galaxy and Hunter doesn't want to think about him right now. He nearly killed Tech. Actually, he nearly burned all of them to death, so never mind. His hair used to be about this long and curly, except Omega's is light blonde and Crosshair's was silver and why in the stars is he thinking about Crosshair's hair right now?

"Your eyes are black," she whispers, hand lifting to touch his face.

"I don't know what's wrong," Hunter confesses, because Omega deserves to know that. Her touch is warm and grounding. "Tech said he thinks something changed after I was shot, but that doesn't make sense."

"That's not supposed to happen, is it?" she queries, "I never heard of it before." She shifts forwards, her bright white wings fluttering, visibly intrigued.

"Tech couldn't figure it out, but it's not that important," Hunter replies. All he knows and can comprehend is that it hurts, and the pain is sharp and cutting. It's not like that of the many blaster wounds he's gotten in the past. It's too spread out.

"Okay," Omega nods, pulling back.

He feels the lack of her touch instantly. "Do you want to go back to sleep?" he asks, because his present ability to carry on a conversation is lower than null. Someplace in the negative spectrum.

"Sure," Omega replies, and Hunter lifts her into his arms.

She spreads her wings to keep her a bit more aloft, and he feels the softness of her feathers brush into his arm. They're silky smooth and Hunter still wants to know what they feel like. He hasn't actually touched them yet. They're... different, and Hunter doesn't know if that would be too intimate or not, and he doesn't want to push her.

Omega flies into the gunner's mount once he reaches the back, and for a moment, he's worried the flapping will wake Wrecker, but that worry fades away the moment the pain kicks in full force. He almost hadn't realized it faded briefly, but it did, and he grips the ladder rung, gasping an inhale, struggling to stay upright. If Omega notices, she doesn't say anything. Hunter stumbles back to the front to avoid it. He doesn't want her to know how bad it is, or to blame herself for it.

It wasn't her fault. It was his for being so stupid.

**w**

It'snotstoppingwhyisn'titstoppinghecan'tbreatheishedying was Tech right that he's still alive or is this some sort of hell except that's not real, is it? Seems like it could only be real in life.

Dying doesn't sound so bad. At least he wouldn't be alive to feel. At least he wouldn't have to – live like this what's wrong why does it hurt so much. He'd ask Tech, except Tech is still sleeping and Hunter hardly feels it as Gonky approaches. That's how out of it he is right now.

He wishes he could sleep, could let himself relax into the nothingness of sleep that everyone else is, but he can't. He thinks of Crosshair. Wonders if he's alright out there, if – he misses him. It'd be easier if he was here. Maybe he wouldn't be so afraid to just ask about it. It's not his chest that's burning so badly, and he doesn't know what's wrong. He should stop being an idiot and wake up Tech, ask him what's wrong, but everything hurts too much to sleep himself right now.

"Hunter," a voice whispers, distant but familiar, an echo of another lifetime. Hunter doesn't recognize the voice, but it feels safe and familiar.

It reminds him of Omega.

He doesn't know why he thought that. She sounds far older.

"Who are you?" he whisper-hisses aloud because Hunter is entirely certain he heard something. He's not insane, too, is he? Or is he hearing a ghost? Or something else out of another time?

There's no answer, but he still feels the person, whoever she is. That's not a future Omega, either, he realizes a millisecond later – Omega talks different. She's so cheery. This one's deeper and more calmly reserved. Even if he could swear he thinks a future-Omega would sound the same – if girl's voices get deeper as they get older? He has no idea if they grow the same way or not. Must be something different about them, at least that makes them different – wait, that was obvious.

He needs to sleep.

He needs this to stop. He wants to cry, and he's not supposed to cry because that's weak and he doesn't have time to be weak.

"It never stops," the voice says again. It sounds – sympathetic, maybe. "I wish that I could tell you it did."

"I don't know you," Hunter thinks, and his mind alights with a strange brilliance. He feels a flicker of something, of – whoever she is.

"Yes, you do," she whispers back, "Because we're the same."

The – he – what?

The presence recedes from his mind, though there's still something... there. Maybe. Hunter has no idea if any of that was his imagination or something real, but it doesn't really matter. He just needs – he needs this to stop what's wrong why's this happening what's happening what...

**w**

"You look amazing," Echo says, nudging him awake. Hunter lifts his head from the dashboard – must've passed out from exhaustion – and glares at him. "No, really," he adds, "Any lighter, and you'll be as pale as me."

Hunter would stand up to glare back at him if he wasn't certain he'd pass out if he tried to make it to his feet. "I'll be fine, but – but somethin's wrong."

Echo's expression is tight. He's worried.

Hunter looks away.

He doesn't want Echo to be worried about him. That's not – he's not supposed to be. "I really don't know... I'll be fine." He knows that's a lie, but he doesn't even know how to start explaining this. It's so weird. It wasn't even his back that was injured, and that couldn't be a spinal thing, could it?

"Hunter," Echo says firmly, his hand touching Hunter's shoulder. He hardly even felt that, either, except it's somehow warmer than Hunter even though Echo is always cold. "If something's wrong, we need to know."

"How extensive was the... the blaster wound?" Hunter asks, because there's definitely a connection, though he can't... Bruises don't hurt like that. They don't feel like they're burning through skin and flesh and everything. "It feels..." It's not that hard to say. Come on. "Worse than what Tech made it sound like."

"Hunter," Echo says, sitting across from him, "You ought to be dead. How could it feel worse than that?"

Maybe because it makes him feel like he wants to be? Which – okay, he doesn't, but it just hurts so much, and he can't keep doing this. He wants to cry from the sheer sharpness of it, and he doesn't even know how to express it. "It feels like... burning," he tries. "Um. Tech better take a look at it." He fumbles with the edge of his bandages, and Echo slaps his hand away to get them himself.

Hunter glances to the back, but he doesn't have a good enough view. They've landed on Ord Mantell again, and the sunlight is streaming through the viewport. He doesn't actually member landing, either – maybe he's more out-of-it than he thought. He certainly doesn't feel any less worn out.

"I don't think Omega should see this," Hunter mutters.

"Why not?" she asks – oh, she's standing right there? Uh. Oops. "I've seen blaster wounds before. I can do this."

Doesn't mean she should have to.

Tech approaches him, expression still one of tight worry as he pulls Hunter's body glove shirt off over his head.

Any better circumstances and Hunter'd be grumbling about how Tech managed to turn both his arms inside out, thank you, but he doesn't have energy to talk unnecessarily. Does Tech have any idea how annoying it is to try to fix that? Trying to ram your arms through an inside-out-cloth thing at high speed is so. So. Maddening.

Echo takes it from Tech, moving enough that he and Tech are mutually blocking out about everything there is to see, and he's glad they have the sense for that. Tech grips his shoulder a little, and Hunter leans forwards enough for him to see if there's anything to see, and Echo takes Hunter's hand again.

He squeezes it tightly, looking away, trying not to think about how overwhelmingly awkward he feels, even if it makes no sense for him to. Tech's hand presses against his back, firm and warm and that shouldn't feel as good as it does. Something's different about his touch, too, though. It's... weird, like it's not all skin or – or something, but he can still feel it.

"What's it look like?" Hunter asks, because Tech isn't saying anything.

"I have never heard of this happening before," Tech admits, "I believe it is connected to what my scanner was relaying about your Force-sensitivity."

"Meaning?"

"I cannot explain it," Tech repeats, slightly flustered, "But the clone donor, Jango Fett, had black wings despite having no signs of Force-sensitivity, and it appears the same is now true about you."

Wait, what? "I have wings?"

"You appear to be growing them."

Oh, so that's why it hurts so much. How do you grow a limb, anyway? He didn't even know that was possible.

"Is there... anything you can do about it?" Hunter asks, and he doesn't even know what he's trying to say. They don't need that kind of attention, and nor does he want to deal with this. It hurts so much. He doesn't know how long their growth will take, but with bones and nerves and the guaranteed fact that it's doing something to his spine, too, he doesn't really... have a good feeling about the length. It won't be short, anyways.

"Not that I am aware of."

His chest throbs dully, and Hunter looks down at it. They still have something over it, but he reaches up to poke at it, wincing when his hand comes off with something dark and sticky. "Didn't you. Uh. Clean this?" You do clean blaster wounds, right? Maybe? Probably? How can he have treated them so many times over, but still not remember how it's done?

"How, precisely, could we have done that?" he asks grumpily, "I am not offering to stick my hand inside your heart."

Forget dying from a blaster shot to the heart. He's going to die of embarrassment. That was – so, so stupid. Doesn't know why he asked.

"Can I... have my clothes back now?"

**w**

Of course, Cid has to send them on another mission, and considering it's been a while since they've gone to one, Hunter really shouldn't complain about it. It's a good thing if they're going on another mission, because that means more credits, but he doesn't... want to move.

Which is stupid.

And pathetic.

And – okay. He really, really shouldn't be complaining about it. He just doesn't think he can do this, and they need him to.

He misses Crosshair. Wishes he was here. He misses his scent, his heartbeat, the feeling of his gentle warmth. If he were here, maybe this wouldn't be so hard. Maybe he'd... be able to help. Wouldn't make Hunter any more functional though, realistically, so he needs to stop complaining.

But still.

He wishes he could feel Crosshair touch him again.

His wings are still taking shape on his back, and Hunter doesn't really know how much it'll entail, how badly it'll hurt once they actually start growing. The changes right now, he thinks, are internal. Maybe. Doesn't matter.

He just wishes it didn't hurt so much.

He tells Omega to stay, because in his current state, he can hardly stand, so forget about even attempting to protect her. He can't even protect himself – nearly died on Bracca, or maybe he did and he's immortal now but that sounds insane, and he has no idea. Doesn't matter. (He just wants to sink into someone's arms and cry and let them make it better for once. He's so tired.)

He asks Tech to give him a bit of the painkillers they have because he does not have time to worry about it if they're going to Raxus of all places, and Hunter doesn't want to go, but considering their debt, he doesn't want to try Cid's patience.

He's so used to constantly struggling to keep natborns from hurting him or his brothers. Some things, it seems, never really change.

Even with the painkillers kicked in, full gear, between the fuzziness in his mind or the – or something, he's still slow enough that he nearly passes out a few times and about gets shot. Wrecker had to come and cover for him, and if he hadn't, well, there wouldn't've been a him left to stumble into the Marauder and near-pass out in the back seats.

He forces himself awake, though, because they have a Separatist aboard, and the Empire might be after him, but they're clones, and even if this person isn't evil of himself Hunter has no doubt he doesn't fancy the clones whatsoever. No one likes them. It just – it just doesn't happen. He's seen it time and again.

Omega, predictably, got in trouble while they were away. Well, not actual trouble, but she easily could've alerted the Empire or bounty hunters or just – just someone of their presences, and Hunter's worried.

Cid yells at him for it, and hits him, and well – he's starting to realize he'd been waiting for the minute that happens. Everyone does it. The only person he knows who hasn't hit him is Omega. Well, there's Echo too, but still, it's...

Maybe he should be counting for them, too.

The number of days he makes it without making somebody want to punch him sounds countable. Something he ought to remember. Maybe. Because it's like – everybody does it.

He still feels – trapped in the past. He's not a cadet anymore. He shouldn't have to be hit by superiors.

Cody never hit him.

Add that to the list of things Hunter loved about him.

He misses him.

He's probably with the Empire, though.

Wrecker shoves him with a pointed glare and Hunter hates himself for hardly being able to stand right now and he glares back with enough sharpness that Wrecker backs off, something worried in his expression.

He hurt Omega and now, he has to deal with that, too, even if he has no idea how or what to say and his vision is blacking out again as the raw, burning agony kicks back in.

He stumbles over to the holotable, sitting down before he passes out and he's starting to think his wings are growing in now, because he can feel the sort of weird... pressure on his back like his armor and clothes are too tight and he better get them off and have Tech do whatever-it-is-he-needs-to before they get stuck on or something disturbing like that.

But – but Omega – he needs to make this right with her and stars he doesn't have the energy to talk. He needs to – fix this.

To tell the truth, the game he plays with Omega is through a blur and Hunter isn't even surprised when she wins. She's smart, and with how exhausted he is, he can't... it's fine. Just. He couldn't've let her come this time, but he probably should've done it, anyways.

Maybe he should have waited until he wasn't too exhausted to stand but he still considers himself lucky to've taken out all of Omega's pieces but one before the end. Hunter thinks his slip-up was a... slight misstep, but he really has no idea. Doesn't have the energy to know or care, but he turns off the board after, sighing at the thankful, final drop of energy. It's like a way-too-bright light was flicked off and his electric senses often work like that.

He still thinks he could drop from exhaustion.

Omega's gleeful expression fades to worried when Hunter stands, nearly falling. He feels the flicker of her heartbeat, hears her wings fluttering.

"We gotta go back to the Marauder," Hunter tells her.

**w**

Doesn't remember the walk there at all, except Echo is gripping his arm to keep him upright, and he thinks he's still managing to – hide it. Maybe. Staying conscious is the part where it's hard.

Crosshair ought to be here. It was always easier when they're together.

Hunter pries his armor off, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor. Tech's gonna hafta – do something to his body glove to make this work. It's not shaped for wings, and he has no idea how they'll have to change it.

The others are hovering somewhat nearby, at least, and he sinks onto the chair. Presses his face to his hands. Isn't sure what sound he made, but it must've been something because someone's hand is on his shoulder now – it's warm and heavy and big – probably Wrecker's.

He didn't mean to ugh – actually whimper – but he does, pressing closer to Wrecker.

Hunter doesn't quite remember how he got from there to being curled up in Wrecker's lap, face pressed against his shoulder. He's far from proud about how he's handling this, but he just can't do this, and he doesn't mean to cry, but he can't help it either.

He can't feel it like he thought he could – doesn't know why, either. It's like he can't... feel the lower half of anything right now. Is... this changing his spine? Probably? Didn't really know temporary near-paralysis was included.

Wrecker's arms hold him firmly and tightly and Hunter clings to him desperately, as if that might somehow help or change what he's going through. It won't. He knows that.

Breathing is hard.

Is he dying?

It's not until Omega grabs his hand that he forces himself to look up.

Hunter's vision is swimming and blurring, but he can still see the brightness in her face. Can still focus on her.

"I can teach you to fly!" she offers happily.

She looks so excited, so hopeful, Hunter doesn't have the heart to tell her that he doesn't care to learn to use his wings at all. Doesn't want them. They just hurt and the more they grow in, because he can sort of... feel them somewhat on his back now, the more area there is to hurt.

It feels like they're being burned off and away down to the bone and back over and over and over.

"Maybe later," he whispers back.

She nods, blonde curls flopping, and lets his hand go.

Hunter drops his head back onto Wrecker's shoulder. The tears are still falling down his face, burning and stubbornly persistent. He doesn't even try to fight it. Once he starts, he can't stop. That always happens, and he hasn't cried in years and – okay, that's not true – he's just good at crying when his brothers are sleeping or locking himself in the 'fresher when no one's around to see him because no one has time for it and no one wants to deal with it and he doesn't have time to break down when he needs to be strong for his brothers, except now – now he can't be and what is wrong with him he's supposed to be better than this but he can't breathe and it won't stop

"It never stops," a voice in his mind whispers from far, far away. "But at least you're not alone. Not like I was."

He presses closer to Wrecker.

Hunter doesn't know how long it took. He only feels it when... Tech's finished whatever he did to his body glove to make it fit – he cut it down the sides and made holes for his wings with a comment about having to alter his armor – and his wings are – they feel so strange and heavy and warm against his back, even if everything is still stinging and burning a little.

Wrecker carries him to his rack and lays him down on it. He has to lay on his stomach, which is weird, but he can't lay on his back when he has wings, and the feathers are still being stubbornly weirdly slow about growing in.

Omega tucks Lula under his head and Hunter's just glad that they have something of Crosshair's with him.

Tech comes to the back to scan him again and Hunter grabs his hand with whatever shred of strength he has left with a stay I need you whispering in his mind that he's too tired to voice. Crosshair's gone and Wrecker's too big to fit here and he needs someone – one of the brothers he grew up with, with him right now.

Tech seems to understand because he doesn't hesitate to climb in next to him. It feels too peaceful to be real, and Hunter's almost convinced he'll just disappear as Crosshair did, but that fades to the back of his mind as the darkness of sleep finally claims him.

It shouldn't've been so relaxing to see.

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