Prologue
Plot: The Batch lost Crosshair on a mission shortly after Echo joined. They thought him dead, grieved him. But Crosshair survived, and it's not until after the Empire's formation, after the Batch has walked away, that they find him again. Crosshair isn't the same as he once was, but then, neither are they. Only together can they mend their broken pieces.
Author's Note: Y'all have NO IDEA how excited we are about this fic! It's been so much fun to plan and write, and really getting into the drama of Crosshair trying to reintegrate with his squad after being apart from them, albeit under different circumstances than in canon, has been incredible! :D I hope y'all enjoy this fic! ^-^
This was a gift request by HaltandCrowley13 on ao3, and it's for the square "stranded" on the Bad Batch Bingo. :)
Updates will be weekly! ;)
~ Amina Gila
Hunter spins his vibroblade around and around and around, hoping that the familiar motions will soothe him. They don't, but it distracts him, which is good enough. Omega wasn't supposed to still be with them – he wanted to leave her with Cut so she'd have a chance to be an actual kid and have a family who could take care of her. She wasn't supposed to nearly get kidnapped, either, but it's only further proof of how horribly underequipped they are to take care of her. But until they can make sure she'll be safe and find somewhere safe for her, she'll have to stay.
He doesn't want her to. It's not safe. They don't know how to take care of a kid. They can't even take care of each other.
The knife nearly falls from his hands at the thought, and he slides it back into its sheath with more force than is needed, staring stonily out the viewport as they approach Ord Mantell. Maybe this Cid will be able to find out the identity of the person who tried to take Omega on Pantora. And maybe they'll be able to take care of that so they can send her somewhere safe. She knows they don't want her to stay, and she doesn't like it, but what are they supposed to do? Omega has to be safe, and the fact remains that she is not safe with them.
There's a beeping, and Tech glances over at it, brow furrowing. Hunter leans forward. "What is it?"
"We've received a transmission," Tech tells him, the frown obvious in his voice.
"Who's it from?" he asks because they shouldn't be getting messages, not after they fled from the Empire with Omega.
"Unknown," Tech answers, "But it's a request, marked urgent, that we rendezvous on a planet in the Outer Rim." He taps a few buttons, keeping one eye on where he's flying, trusting Echo to keep them steady. "It's a mining colony of some sort. Small and out of the way. There is no Imperial presence there that I know of."
Hunter exchanges an uneasy look with Wrecker. "Could it be the Empire?"
Tech shakes his head. "It is unlikely, though not impossible, I suppose."
"What if someone needs our help?" Omega asks.
Then they can take care of themselves, he wants to say but doesn't, not only because of the bitterness that would be audible in his voice. They can't even take care of themselves. It's stupid to think they can take care of someone else. Even Omega.
"It's probably a trap," Hunter says, ignoring the question entirely. "We need to find out who's after the kid." And that settles it.
**w**
It happens so suddenly, so fast, and the only warning Hunter had was the danger screaming in his head as he senses the incoming missile. But it's not coming toward them. "Crosshair!" Maybe it's him who screams the name, maybe it's one of the others, but none of it is enough to stop the explosion.
More droids are coming now – he can feel them, swarming closer, and they'll be outnumbered in minutes. There's too many of them. This was supposed to be a stealth mission. They were to retrieve intel from the Separatist datacenter on the planet – which they did. But something went wrong somehow, an alarm was triggered that shouldn't have been, and they need to fall back. But they can't. They –
Hunter shakes his head to dispel the ringing in his ears, the frantic litany of denials going through his mind as he scans the outcropping where Crosshair had been to cover them if needed. He can't see much from where he is, but he can see enough. He can see Crosshair's body on the ground, too still and motionless, smoke and ash and flames rising into the air from the explosion. He doesn't know how injured he was or if – if –
"Crosshair!" he calls into the comms, voice shaking, but there's no answer. "I'm going to get him."
"Hunter, you can't," Echo protests, lunging forward and catching his arm before he can run straight into the danger – and probably get killed or captured trying. Crosshair was right there in the path, and there's probably no way he can walk right now. He's probably unconscious or – or –
"It's too dangerous. You'll never make it. We don't have time to double back!"
Echo's right, but Hunter can't give the order. He can't –
He's frozen.
It's the worst possible time to freeze up.
This whole mission was fun and games until now.
"I can –" Wrecker begins, moving toward where Crosshair is.
Hunter reaches out with his senses, and he can feel the droids coming, the tanks, and he knows that by the time they make it to where Crosshair is, the droids will be on them. Echo is right, and he hates it, but this is the burden of being the leader, the burden he has always carried for his brothers. "Crosshair!"
There's still no answer, and the part of Crosshair that he can see doesn't even move.
"It was a direct hit," Tech says numbly, "He –" But his voice breaks, and he can't even finish the thought.
"Fall back," Hunter rasps, because even if by some chance Crosshair is still there, there's no way they can pull him out. But the truth – the truth is that he – he's –
He just can't accept it. No one could have survived that. Not a reg, and not even one of them.
It's not until after they've made it back to the Marauder that it fully sinks in what happened, what it means, and he throws up in the 'fresher. That was Crosshair, his little brother, their eyes in the sky, and he left him there. It doesn't matter if he was gone, if there was nothing left to save. He deserved better than being left to rot. He should have – they should have –
When he comes out, it's to see Wrecker curled into a corner, as if he's trying to make himself as small as possible. He's crying. Not loudly, but Hunter can hear his gasped inhales and muffled sobs, and it guts him. He should say something, but he doesn't know what. What can he even say that could help? He couldn't help Crosshair when he should have. He should have known the droids were coming long before they showed up. He should have sensed it. He should have paid more attention instead of quipping back and forth with the others about how easy it was while Tech downloaded the intel they came for.
He doesn't know what to say to Wrecker, how to help, but he can't just – walk away either. That would be wrong, too.
Wrecker decides for him, looking up at him, expression miserable. It hurts worse to see the tears on his face. "Hunter," he says, reaching out to him, and Hunter realizes that he's crying too. Doesn't know when he started. Doesn't care either. He lets Wrecker take his hand and pull him down to his side. Hunter leans against him, letting Wrecker wrap him in his arms like he's just a giant Lula to be cuddled and presses his face against the cold armor on Wrecker's shoulder as he cries.
Tech joins them later, wordlessly leaning against Wrecker's side, and Hunter reaches out blindly, grasping his hand and squeezing it tightly as they fall to pieces and mourn the brother they lost.
**w**
They're on the way to drop off Muchi with Cid when the transmission comes again. "It's the same message," Tech says, "But I do not know who could be trying to contact us."
Nor does Hunter. Other than Cut and Rex, they don't know many other regs, and somehow, he doubts this is Rex. Everyone else they know is probably still Imperial. He's tempted to say it's a trap and dismiss it again, but... but – his instincts tell him to look deeper.
... His instincts also told him that mission would be easy.
He doesn't trust his instincts anymore. Can't. They led him astray at the worst possible moment, and it was only through sheer luck that their squad stuck together after that. Echo had only been with them for a couple months at the time, before it happened, and if – they nearly fell apart. Hunter had been so afraid for so long that Echo would get tired of them and walk out, leaving them to be torn apart by the Kaminoans. He couldn't let that happen, and he compromised more than he was comfortable with to keep it from happening.
"Echo, what do you think?" he asks, because that's normal for them now. When he's uncertain, he asks Echo for his opinion,
"I think we should at least check it out," Echo answers, "Could be important."
Hunter hates how his instincts firmly agree. He doesn't want to lead them into another trap, one they might not all walk out of. "Yeah," he replies, swallowing hard, throwing a desperate look at Tech and Wrecker. They're all he has now, and he can't – he can't lose them too. "Okay. Once we've settled this with Cid, we can take a quick detour to check it out."
He hopes, desperately, that he won't come to regret it.
**w**
They meet Omega when they're on the way back to their barracks after the briefing that told them the Republic has become an Empire. "Hi, I'm Omega!"
They all sort of just. Pause. And look at her, because why is she there? What does she want from them? She's not at all bothered by their lack of enthusiasm, her smile still present but sad. "I was wondering when you guys would come back."
"You know who we are?" Hunter asks numbly. Once, he might have cared, but now, he feels empty. He's been empty for months.
"Hunter, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker," she says, looking between each of them, and for a moment, Hunter can see an aching grief in her eyes. "You're Clone Force 99." A pause. "I heard about what happened," she whispers, gaze falling. "I – I'm sorry." And then, she's lunging forward and throwing her arms around Hunter's waist, hugging him tightly.
He can hear her quiet sniffle before she steps back just as quickly, giving them all a wobbly smile that looks forced.
Nala Se interrupts and takes her away before Hunter can ask any questions, before he can wonder why Crosshair's absence is bothering her so badly. They go to their barracks for the first time in months, for the first time since – since –
And Hunter is not at all prepared for Crosshair's lingering scent to greet him. He can't quite stop the strangled, wounded sound that escapes from him, the grief slamming into him all over again. He steps into the room as though in a daze, eyes raking across it, taking it the familiarity of it. It feels like stepping into the past – except Crosshair isn't here.
It's later, when he can't hide from the restless, aching pain in his chest as he tries to sleep, that he goes to Crosshair's bunk and sits on the edge, just sitting and breathing and remembering. Smelling the smoky-fogginess of Crosshair's scent here only reminds him all over again how he's gone. He wonders if it'll ever stop hurting.
**w**
The surface of the planet is dark and smoky, the air polluted by toxins from the mining colony a distance away, but that's not where they were asked to land which makes the whole thing stranger. Tech scans the surface near the given coordinates, but he doesn't pick anything up which sets Hunter on edge.
"Set us down," he decides finally. They came all this way, after all. Might as well find out what they were asked here for. "Stay on alert."
He's the first off the Marauder when they land, blaster in hand as he steps onto the rocky ground. A few scraggly plants spring up here and there, but most of the plant life is the towering trees scattered across the nearby woodland. They're purple. And red. It's odd, but hardly the oddest thing Hunter has seen. He was on Felucia, and while the planet was awful for fighting, it did have some rather exotic wildlife. Tech had been so enthused about it. For a while anyway, until he realized how miserable the planet was. Then, he was complaining as much as the rest of them were.
The rocks are colorful, too, exotic shades and combinations of colors. If Hunter asked, Tech could probably go into detail about their mineral compositions, what is being mined, and the usefulness of it, but he's not going to ask. It doesn't matter anyway.
A shadow detaches from between a towering rocky structure and a massive tree that's twice as wide as Hunter is tall. His breath catches in his lungs, and his blaster lowers instinctively. Is that – He would recognize Crosshair's armor anywhere, but that can't be him. He's dead. They saw him die. They –
"Crosshair?" It's Wrecker who finds his voice first, incredulous and disbelieving, but it assures Hunter that no, he's not hallucinating.
"Took you long enough," Crosshair snips, and Hunter's pretty sure it's meant to be a joke, but it still hurts. He moves closer to them, limping visibly, wavering, hardly even staying upright, and Force, how is he still alive?!
"Crosshair," Hunter says and then stops, unsure what he's even supposed to say. The emotions that slam into him are overwhelming in their intensity and he can't breathe that's Crosshair he's here he's alive he's –
He re-holsters his blaster and pulls off his helmet, trusting his senses to reassure him of the truth. He can feel Crosshair's familiar heartbeat – he could never forget its feel, never – and he can smell his familiar scent, though it's now tinged with the metallic smell of blood. He must be injured. But he's here. In front of them. Alive.
How? They saw him – the explosion hit him. He wasn't moving. He ought to have been dead from that. They thought he was dead from that. He has so many questions, so many, but he knows now isn't really the time to start asking them.
Crosshair stumbles, and Wrecker is the one who makes it to him in time to keep him from hitting the ground. Hunter can feel his heartrate changing, dipping, as he drops into unconsciousness. How was he even walking for so long? How long was he waiting for them here? He tries not to think about it too hard, about how they left him and never looked back because they thought there was nothing to look back to. If they'd searched, would they have found him? But now isn't the time for that. Crosshair needs them, and it's him who matters – not Hunter's guilt or grief.
Wrecker lifts Crosshair into his arms, throwing a worried look at Hunter. "He's too light."
Hunter reaches out, clasping Crosshair's hand briefly, just because he can and because he needs the reassurance that he's real. "Get him on board," he orders. "Tech, see what his condition is." This, at least, is familiar. They've always taken care of one another if someone is injured, and all his doubts and grief and guilt and confusion can wait. It's enough that Crosshair is here. It's enough to know that he's alive. Nothing else matters. Not right now.
Final Notes: Reviews are always appreciated! ^-^
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