I Said Talk To Him
Author's Note: This is for the Bad Batch bingo square of "reunion". :) Don't tell me you also aren't wondering what would have happened if the wyrm didn't show up. xD
~ Amina Gila
"She went through what she did because you failed."
"They're all going to die here because of your failure."
He hadn't wanted to go. He'd tried to stop them, but it wasn't enough and he's the reason they keep failing and every time he tries to make it better, it just gets worse and Hunter is so, so, so tired of everything hurting.
He's so tired of being hit and pushed and ignored and – and Crosshair is the one who started this. He doesn't get to be angry about it.
There's just so much, too much and he just can't.
His fist jerks upwards with every, complete intent of punching Crosshair in the face, but he sees it coming because he always does. It hurts when Crosshair hits him back and his mind just – snaps. Breaks. Sort of falls, plummeting into its bottomless pit of violence and emptiness that's been all he's felt since Eriadu or – no, it's all started long, long before that. It started the second Crosshair betrayed them. That he abandoned them, and Hunter's so tired of being hurt.
He feels raw and exposed, torn down to nothing. He is nothing, and he never will be.
The fact that Crosshair is still able to hurt him makes him even angrier, and Hunter knows they're feeding back and forth in a plummeting loop, but he genuinely doesn't even care.
He can't think about anything except his overwhelming, all-consuming desire to hurt.
Crosshair's arm hooks around his neck in a chokehold, and Hunter gasps faintly, genuinely completely certain that he's actually going to do it – to cut off his breathing and strangle him.
"What?" Hunter snarls, because he's just – not thinking. Not anything. He doesn't want to hurt Crosshair, but he is so tired of being nothing of being useless of failing of himself of Crosshair of everything and he can't do this anymore. "You're gonna kill me? Like you did Tech?"
Crosshair's grip faulters and Hunter throws him off. His chest is heaving and it's hard to breathe. To anything. He's burning and he aches all over.
Crosshair punches him in the face.
...
He probably deserved that.
Hunter has no idea how they ended up in the snow, but somehow, they did.
"I didn't ask you to come after me," Crosshair hisses, "You chose to."
He hates himself for hitting Crosshair, but it also feels like he deserves it. For doing this to them. For ripping them apart. For abandoning them. Betraying them. Everything. "I didn't want to go!" Hunter yells back, and he knows it changes nothing, but it – still – he knew something would go wrong, knew they shouldn't that isn't – but they insisted what was he supposed to do –
The last time he said no, Crosshair walked away from him.
"Oh, so what excuse do you have?" Crosshair asks snidely, "Got a mind-control chip in your head, too?"
Hunter slams him into the snow and punches him. He should probably feel something at the very, very unpleasant cracking crunch of Crosshair's nose breaking, but well, he doesn't. Like he's incapable of feeling anything other than a raw, unfiltered rage, and he can't hate himself more than he already does.
What?
Not like they haven't been hit before.
Giving Crosshair a broken nose is a whole lot better than getting Tech killed.
Crosshair knows him, probably better than anyone else ever could or has and he loathes it it's so, so wrong he's the one who made this happen who ripped them apart.
Crosshair flips them over with a furious growl and it reminds him so jarringly of Kamino his mind does that blank-skipping-freezing thing it does so much.
He's exhausted and everything hurts and the snow is freezing under his head.
"You make the calls, Hunter. You knew what to do, and you still made every choice wrong. Eriadu. The rail car. Tech is gone, because of you."
As if any of that would have happened if Crosshair hadn't betrayed them in the first place?!
He doesn't want to say it, because he doesn't want to be as petty and cruel as Crosshair is, but it's not like he's any better. At least Crosshair was trying to hurt them. Hunter never has and he's always managed it, anyway.
"Wouldn't have had to if you hadn't betrayed us," Hunter throws back. He wants to cry. Desperately. His throat is tight, and his eyes are burning, but he's too angry. To – just. Something. He throws Crosshair off him for good measure.
He grunts when Crosshair's fist hits his jaw. Pretty sure that's not broken, at least. Still hurts, though.
He tastes blood.
Crosshair pulls his fist back and Hunter's almost certain he's about to hit him again. Fine. Let him. They've fought before. The ending is always the same, because it's always, always Hunter who gives in first. Because it always has to be him that's wrong, and everyone else that's right because he can never do anything right, apparently.
Not for anyone.
Wrecker might not be angry at Hunter, but he was still hurt by him.
"You think being angry at me will bring him back?" Crosshair hisses, "That was your failure. Not mine."
He lost Tech trying to get Crosshair back. Of course, he doesn't even get a simple thank you for that. Why would he? That'd just be too much of a common courtesy for Crosshair. Obviously.
The ground is comfortable, anyway. He doesn't want to have to pick himself up, but he'll inevitably have to.
"Then you should have killed me on Kamino," Hunter snaps back, not looking at him.
Crosshair stills. Hunter feels it, and he doesn't care. He means it. With every single ounce of genuineness he has inside him.
He doesn't want to get back up and keep moving. He's tired of being hurt and hurting his brothers. He's tired of – of everything. He doesn't want to hurt them again but that's all he can do. He can't do anything else. Be anything else. Can't – anything.
He's blamed Crosshair for what happened all this time because he couldn't bear to take the blame himself. For his own failure.
Crosshair shifts a little next to him. Hunter doesn't look at him. He can't.
Everything aches, and it feels fitting. Kind of nice. He thinks he rather deserves that. It should have been him. Should've been him who died instead and it wasn't. He deserves to hurt. To be in pain.
Hunter lifts his hand to gently prod the still-stinging spot on his jaw. Ow. Definitely bruising. Doesn't really care.
Crosshair flops out on his back beside him. Probably trying to stop the bleeding.
Hunter did that, too.
The only thing he can do is hurt them.
He doesn't want to get back up.
Maybe he was just the slightest bit overly blunt when he told Crosshair what he did, but he doesn't regret it, either. He doesn't want to get up again. Wishes he didn't have to be here at all, even if he knows there's no one else who – who could lead them.
"They're all going to die here because of your failed leadership."
Tears flood his eyes and spill down his face before he can stop them.
He closes his eyes against it, trying to make them stop. Breathing is hard. Everything is hard.
Crosshair shifts next to him. Hunter hears the crunching in the snow. He hears a very familiar Crosshair-like sigh. Hunter turns his head away a bit. Can't look at him.
"Hey."
He feels Crosshair moving. It feels distant. Hazy. Everything kind of does now.
He feels Crosshair's hand moving, and Hunter flinches, half expecting to get hit again. His brother's hand lightly touches his chest plate. Hunter still doesn't look at him. What? Crosshair was doing the same to him earlier. Two can play that game.
Crosshair must have himself propped up on his elbow now. He's half pressed against Hunter's side. He used to find that comfortable once. Safe. Now, he – he doesn't –
Doesn't find comfort in anything.
Hunter shoves him off because he just – can't. Can't anything anymore.
He doesn't want to move.
(Honestly. It isn't like anyone would miss him if he didn't get up. Well... Wrecker would. Echo'll get over it. And Crosshair wouldn't have left him in the first place if he cared.)
He's done all the things he hated Crosshair for. Hunter's the one who hurt them, who lead all of them to their deaths. He let it happen. If he'd been faster, if he'd been – been able to do something right once in his life.
Crosshair always gets what he wants. He wanted them broken, and he got it.
Hunter struggles to hold back the very snarky question building in his throat, wanting to ask if he's satisfied yet. He's not that petty, and nor is he going to be that blunt or open with Crosshair. He's not going to entrust him with – with anything. Or anyone. He's been hurt enough. They've all been hurt enough.
All the things he hates Crosshair for are all the things he is himself.
Hunter swallows back a strangled sob.
Crosshair's hand lightly touches his head, stroking his hair. His touch is light and painfully familiar.
Hunter's too tired to shove him off again. He's too tired to get back up. He needs it to stop. Needs everything to stop.
He's shaking. His hands feel numb.
It's the normal emotional-overload-thing, but Hunter still loathes it. Hates most of all that this even can affect him because it's not supposed to. He's not supposed to get hurt by things. He's – supposed to know what to do, but he always screws up and it's always his brothers and Omega who deal with the fallout.
While Hunter just hides.
He needs to stop. Calm down. Tries to force his breathing even, because the last thing in the galaxy he needs right now is to cry in front of Crosshair, but once he starts, it's hard to stop. He's perfectly capable of having a three-hour breakdown in the 'fresher where no one can interrupt. Four's his record. That was a few months ago. Not like anybody will know.
Wrecker probably did, but they never talked about it because it didn't matter.
Crosshair completely unexpectedly, and as always, thoroughly unreasonably, dumps a handful of snow on his face.
Hunter jolts upright with a very ungraceful yelp, and Crosshair cackles. "What was that for?"
"I don't think Omega will be very happen to see you like this."
Hunter scrubs his face off and glares. "Like what?" He'd probably sound a lot more intimidating if his voice wasn't shaky and broken.
"Those'll bruise."
"She's never seemed upset at seeing me get hit before." Genuinely, he doesn't get it. Hunter took a blaster bolt nearly through his heart for her right after they met. Omega hadn't been fazed by it in the slightest, at least not that he's seen. Yeah, Wrecker would be really upset about it, but that's different. He worries. Hunter will give him that.
Crosshair scoffs. "She's scary when she's angry."
"No kidding." Hunter can think of a handful of times Omega's been angry, and none have been pleasant. He always feels sick whenever she gets angry. She shouldn't ever have to be, but it happens all the time anyway because he can never do anything right.
"Here," Crosshair says, digging his hand into the snow and pressing a small handful to Hunter's face. It's freezing, but well – that's the point. It'll keep the swelling down, anyway. That's probably important.
Crosshair's hand is pressed against his jaw, and it's familiar and – it reminds him of the brother he thought he grew up with.
Not the one who betrayed and abandoned them.
The one who actually cared.
Hunter thought it was a dream.
He still does.
Because, genuinely, how screwed up would he have to be to fail in something that even Crosshair didn't?
"Don't cry," Crosshair requests. He sounds a little freaked out, but he's still good enough at hiding it. Hunter sighs, blinking back against the burning in his eyes.
Crosshair's other hand lifts to touch his cheek, gently brushing his tears away. It's intimate and weird, and Hunter doesn't really want to, but he's not about to tell him to stop, either. He feels numb inside, as numb as his face does now. Well, the snow-thing is working.
Hunter lowers his head a little, unwilling to look at him. He doesn't want to meet his eyes. Crosshair's still bleeding, and Hunter – doesn't exactly regret it, but he still feels awful. Empty. Self-loathing is hard to handle. Hunter's been drowning in it since they left Crosshair the first time, and ever since, everything's been falling.
"Every choice you have made since Kaller has been wrong."
"Still bleeding?" Hunter asks finally, and Crosshair pulls back from him.
He makes a quiet, grumpy sound, which Hunter takes as a yes. He looks up, and – well, yeah.
"Lay down," Hunter requests, nudging his shoulder lightly, because – well, he's not going to let Crosshair go back still bleeding all over. With the rolling around in the snow thing, it's smeared all over, and looks far less pleasant than it probably is.
Crosshair – surprisingly – complies without objection.
The silence is genuinely uncomfortable as Hunter tries to clean him up, but he doesn't want to break it. Talking to Crosshair is even harder than avoiding him. He doesn't want to keep going like this. He wants things to be better with Crosshair, but Hunter doesn't think he can ever – let go or move on from what happened. From what he did.
"We may not always have agreed with Crosshair, but he is still our brother."
Trying to get Crosshair's nose to stop bleeding is – well, hard. Takes a while.
The comm in Crosshair's helmet, now half-buried in snow, beeps.
Hunter scoots over to pick it up, trying and failing to shake some of the snow out of his hair. He's freezing. His eye is still stinging. Probably bruised, too.
He's not crying anymore, but he still wants to. It's enough to hold together for a few hours until he can actually – break down.
Feels like he's already broken.
"Might want to answer that," Hunter says, digging Crosshair's helmet out and dropping it in his lap. He scoots back, trying to put a bit of distance between them. He doesn't want to touch Crosshair again. He wants – distance enough to breathe.
He wants everything to stop hurting.
He can't keep doing this. He's – he's failing and falling and everything is –
He has to get back up, because there's nothing else he can do.
Hunter knew he'd be at risk of losing his brothers. Of them dying. No soldier has a guarantee of survival, but that doesn't make it easier. He can never do anything – right anymore. Is no longer sure he ever has.
Wrecker is the one who kept cautioning him and worrying about everything. He's the one who held Hunter semi-existing over the past several months. He's the only reason Hunter's still alive.
(He still wishes he wasn't. He isn't going to get a happy ending. No clone does. They are meant to die.)
"Hunter." Crosshair's voice makes him pause, glancing at him.
Crosshair's not really looking at him. Whatever he's about to say is probably too... awkward to make eye contact in. They've been apart so long, and so much has happened, it... Hunter feels like he doesn't even know Crosshair anymore. Isn't fully sure he ever has, but he's tried.
"We... need you," Crosshair says, and he sounds as awkwardly uncomfortable with it as Hunter expected him to.
He could say anything to that. Literally any sort of protest feels appropriate, and very logical, but... it's best to let it drop. He already feels raw and exposed, and trying to tell Crosshair anything else would just... make that worse. Best to let it drop.
He still feels empty.
Hunter thinks Crosshair might want some sort of response, but Hunter has nothing to offer him.
"Echo's probably asking what's happening," Hunter says instead, "Or Omega."
Crosshair shakes the snow out of his helmet and comms them back.
"Is anyone dead?" Echo asks.
"Not quite," Crosshair grumbles.
"Are you okay?" Omega's voice questions, and it's still almost jarring to hear it. She's here. She's here, she's safe, and – and Hunter has no idea how long that'll last.
Crosshair huffs a sigh. "Marginally."
Wrecker's the first to greet them when they come back. He's wearing his helmet, so Hunter can't see his expression, and even if he could, with the bone-deep exhaustion crushing him, he's not fully certain he'd be able to read it, anyway. He feels dead on his feet. Can hardly remember the last time he slept. Last night, a little, but before then...
He's so used to forcing himself awake no matter how exhausted he is. Used to passing out over a datapad and waking a few hours later, because they don't have time to keep waiting. Hunter still doesn't think he... can do anything else.
Especially not if they have to keep getting dragged off Pabu on some mission or another.
Wrecker steps up to him, squeezing his shoulder and gently touching his face.
"It's okay," Hunter mutters, even if it's not. Crosshair's hit him before. It happens all the time – all of his brothers have hit him hard enough to bruise. This isn't anything abnormal.
Wrecker hugs him tightly, wordlessly, and Hunter sinks into his arms. He doesn't return it, and it's brief, but it's warm and genuinely the first thing in weeks that's made him feel somewhat okay.
Other than the moment he finally heard Omega was back.
Wrecker looks at Crosshair, who awkwardly avoids his gaze.
"I said talk to him!" Omega whisper-hisses at Crosshair.
"In his defense," Hunter supplies, because he feels the need to defend Crosshair about that little thing. Hunter was being awful to him, too, even if he doesn't... really feel bad about it? He does, but he needed to get it out. At least he's not angry anymore. "I did break his nose. I think."
Echo laughs. Actually laughs, like this is funny somehow, and Hunter throws him an annoyed look.
("We need you," Crosshair had said, and Hunter doesn't believe him. Not about that. Doesn't know that he can – nothing makes sense.)
(He couldn't help Crosshair, either. All he did was get Tech killed. That's not something he can change.)
Wrecker moves to hug Crosshair, too, and Hunter turns away in favor of asking Echo if they found anything. Having Crosshair back is something that he doesn't think he's ever going to get used to.
It's not like anything ever gets better.
It's still nice to pretend, though.
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