A/N—This is a request sequel to "No Matter What," but it can also work as a standalone. I apologize, but this one is heavy with angst. The main theme is grief and mourning. Fair warning: I couldn't bring myself to proofread this one.
The research facility on Tantis was in ruins. Some halls were falling apart, others as if nothing had happened. The sound of water dripping echoed throughout the base, as did the protesting groans the durasteel doors made when opened. Some of the lights flickered, whereas others refused to work at all, resulting in the pair of (Y/N) and Crosshair relying on flashlights.
"I guess this was Nala Se's lab," commented Crosshair, observing the scene past the locked door. Nothing was left there, indicating it was once a highly equipped lab. All that remained was the charred and scattered equipment remains; not even the outer wall had remained intact, and only a gaping hole remained where the window had once been. "We're not going to get anything from the databanks; they are in pieces," he voiced, shining a light through the door; the large cylinder object was no better off than the rest of the room. If the files on it hadn't been deleted by Nala Se in her last defiance against the empire, then the blast would have completely destroyed everything the databank would have stored.
"I'm on channel three," spoke (Y/N), turning away from the lab remains, instead shining her light down the surrounding corridors, silently deciding which hall to follow in the hopes of finding Hemlock's office. "I'm going to find Hemlock's office; if the equipment there is intact, I might be able to access his files. Watch out for the hunters," she added, turning away after whispering quiet good luck.
After all, she was no fool; she knew Crosshair had another reason for joining her. For months, Tantis was his own personal version of hell. He had his own demons to face there, and he had to put to bed his haunting past and traumas. If only so he, too, could one day find peace.
"He's always with you, Shortfire. He always was," called Crosshair, a semblance of affection lingering in his voice. He knew Tech better than most; they were twins, after all. Although a slow burner, there was something special between (Y/N) and Tech. He'd seen it during the war, just as he was sure Hunter had after it.
(Y/N) stopped, tears shimmering in her eyes, the pain and grief she felt etched across her features. Although she never turned to face Crosshair, she knew the former sniper could sense it. The way her body involuntary stiffened most likely gave it away. She didn't respond verbally to his words, offering a small nod before continuing again.
Logically, (Y/N) knew there was little chance Tech had survived Eriadu, and not even a Jedi could survive a fall from that height. She could remember Wrecker telling her Tech was gone, tearfully and grief-stricken; she'd never seen the human bulldozer so vulnerable before. Echo had confirmed Wrecker's words, but still (Y/N) couldn't bring herself to accept it. Her mind and heart couldn't agree until she had seen him for herself, found him, and taken him home, where he belonged and could finally be at peace.
Tears left wet, salty tracks down her cheeks, falling despite her best efforts to prevent them from doing so. Her knees weakened as her mind focused on her lost love. The pain, so much pain. (Y/N) had lost so much during the war, even more, when it ended. Eventually, Tech and The Batch came for her, saving her from god knows what. For a time, they were happy even if on the run, and then, one day, the hunters appeared. At first, they all believed they were after Omega, but it soon became clear they knew (Y/N) was a former Jedi; they were after her.
"I'm sorry, Tech," cried (Y/N), remembering the last time she saw him. She hadn't expected to come back; if anything, she tricked herself into believing the hunters would eventually succeed in their goal, either capturing or killing her. So, to save further pain, she'd all but broken his heart and pushed him away in the hopes of saving him. "I love you." she whimpered into the cold, dark corridor, sliding down the wall until she hit the floor scattered with debris. Slowly, her own heart broke; if she'd only been there that day, he would still be alive.
"Come on, Shortfire," whispered Crosshair, squatting to be at her fallen height. Tears of his own glistened in his golden eyes. "You're not to blame. He wouldn't want you to be like this, tormenting yourself for what you can't change," he added with a soothing tone, pulling her into his armored body once more, holding her while she cried, his own tears breaking the well-fortified barriers. Although Crosshair could never voice it, he knew Tech was gone; he felt the sudden, unexplainable pain far worse than anything Hemlock and the empire could inflict. He constantly felt that part of himself was missing, a piece that couldn't be filled, even by Omega.
The two stayed there for what felt like hours, holding each other in silent comfort, allowing the pain to finally take hold before pushing it back again. The peaceful grief was only broken up by the sound of voices coming from a distant corridor, the glow of flashlights finding the pair shortly after. By the time the owners of the identical voices reached them, Crosshair's blaster was at the ready, and (Y/N)'s lightsaber bathed the cold hall in a blue hue.
"Crosshair," came the familiar voice of Echo; at his side were Rex, Howzer, and Gregor, all with their weapons armed and ready, with determined looks masterfully painted upon their features. "(Y/N)," he added, ignoring the tears lingering on their cheeks, refusing to draw attention to their prolonged period of weakness. "What are you doing here?"
"Searching for answers," replied (Y/N) between sniffles as she disarmed her lightsaber. She didn't stay in the corridor much longer, walking off again, knowing the clones would be weary of her at best. Order 66 had screwed up a lot of things, among it the strong bond that once existed between Jedi and Clone. Most of it was now shattered, a reminder of a past that could never be recovered, a past slowly being forgotten.
"Tech," simply spoke Crosshair, answering the lingering question before the wild thoughts could take over. "She needs answers, closure. We all do," he added, as if pointing out the obvious. After all, there was only one reason why (Y/N) would go to a place like Tantis, and there was only one real reason why a Jedi would come out of hiding now. Love.
"I'll shadow her," called Gregor. Sensing there was unfinished business between Echo and Crosshair as well, the tension suggested something had yet to be resolved. No one protested when the former commando split from the group, following (Y/N)'s trail cautiously as if preparing for an unforeseen attack.
"What about you?" questioned Echo, like Gregor sensing the distrust and tension hovering in the air; maybe it was just the facility, the hatred, and pain that once bred there, or maybe it was the fractured relationship between brothers nailed home further by a loss no one dared speak about.
"I have my own demons to face," voiced Crosshair, looking around the facility hall, one he walked twice daily for months. He hated the place, wished it was gone completely, and to banish all the memories from his mind, but (Y/N) needed him. She was more important than anything else in the mountain. Tech would have wanted someone to be at her side as she went through the scarring pain and the journey of acceptance. "She needs me."
"I'll go ahead and keep an eye on her," exclaimed Rex, trusting Howzer to handle the two before them. Rex knew the denial (Y/N) went through; he'd gone through it repeatedly since the war ended, even before it. The refusal to accept someone you love was gone was the worst pain. Even more so if you didn't get to say goodbye. He'd been through it plenty of times, yet still, he hadn't accepted Fives was gone, or Tup, Jesse, Kix, and his own Jedi General, Anakin Skywalker.
"What happened between you two?" asked Howzer, sensing the tension ran deeper than first appeared. Everyone knew of the strong bond the boys of Clone Force 99 shared; they were more than just comrades in battle; they were brothers, created to be different. Despite being outcasted by many, they'd welcome Echo when he needed a place—acted as if he was no different from them. Yet now, it was as if something had ripped them apart.
"He abandoned them," whispered Crosshair, recalling the day he reunited with Hunter and Wrecker. Omega had told him Tech was gone, so he knew his twin wouldn't be there, at least not physically. However, he had expected Echo to be there, fighting to find Omega and bring her home, yet he wasn't. He was somewhere else in the galaxy, off on some wild adventure while forgetting about the family that still needed him. "They needed you after Tech … but you weren't there. You chose to poke the empire rather than help keep them from falling apart further."
"I did what I had to do," replied Echo, frustration ringing through his stern voice. He'd had this argument countless times with Crosshair. Still, the former sniper had yet to forgive him and move on.
"You weren't there for her either," sharply called Crosshair, uttering words he'd not spoken before. Shining a light on what truly angered him. Despite searching the galaxy for Omega five times over, Hunter and Wrecker were still there when (Y/N) needed them. They cheered her up when things got too much and remained her family when she had nothing. They ensured she was never alone, even when she thought she was. "You did what you wanted to do, not what you had to do. You abandoned all of them: Hunter, Wrecker, Omega, and (Y/N). You helped bring this place to its knees, fired the first blow against the empire, and still, you choose your uprising and danger over those who need you."
"Don't fight," came (Y/N) static-filled voice via Crosshair's com, making it clear she'd heard all the words spoken between the two, as had Rex and Gregor if they found her. "All of us have lost too much already. If we turn on each other now, then the empire wins. They won't have to do anything if the damage is done from within."
Rex and Gregor remain silent as they shadow the former Jedi, like so many (Y/N) had been broken by the events of Order 66 and the constant fight to survive. Her trust in others was tainted so much that everyone was a potential threat and enemy. The pride all Jedi once had was long gone now, replaced with constant fear, not just of the hunters, but the empire in general, of those who actively wanted to erase the Jedi and all it stood for and of the ordinary people who'd turn her over in a heartbeat for a hefty cash reward.
"What are you looking for?" asked Gregor, an echo of his previous confidence hinted in his voice. So much had changed since the war ended. The Jedi had become enemies, the Republic had fallen and been replaced with the Empire, Kamino had been destroyed, and clones were quickly being replaced by civilians who sought glory. Yet despite all of it, some still showed loyalty to each other and to the republic they'd once fought a war for, as well as the Jedi they had been through so many trials with.
"Hemlock's office," replied (Y/N) sensing Gregor's need to help, to be useful again. She refused to deny him that or the life he deserved to live, the life all clones had earned. Peaceful, free, and with the same rights as any living being. "I have to know for sure," she stuttered, her strength failing her when it came to speaking the harsh truth. She had to know for sure Tech was gone, at least before her heart and mind allowed her to grieve. She had to know so she could let go of the slither of hope he was out there somewhere and would return to her and their family, too.
"You don't have to be afraid," called Rex. One didn't need to be a Jedi to sense her unapologetic fear. Despite allowing the code forbidding Jedi from truly feeling things, none of them obeyed it during the war; many Jedi had come to care for their troopers and loved them as fiercely as they fought to keep the peace. (Y/N) was no different. She had a heart of gold as big as the galaxy surrounding them. Anyone who saw her unyielding loyalty and affection as the true gift it was, those who were lucky enough to be so close to her, treasured their time, none more so than the family of the bad batch.
"I do not fear pain, Captain. I fear the familiar trial of grief and loss," admitted (Y/N), recalling the many times over the years she faced it. As a Jedi, she lost her birth family; during the war, she lost friends, brothers, and sisters; at war end, she lost everything else, from the hero she had once been to the constitution she had once believed in, her people in the Jedi and even her faith. "I fear this time I will lose myself. This time, it will be worse. For I must let go of someone, I never wish to."
Time seemed to escape the trio; the long hall they walked down filled with empty cells that once held suffering clones, former troopers, and brothers. Other ray-shielded rooms held the instruments of torment, the beginning of the horrors that would come for those once trapped within the confines of the mountain.
Crosshair had found them at some point, stomping along with heavy footsteps, anger written across his stern features and settling into his stiff frame. He'd not spoken a word as he rejoined them nor when he entered a tiny ray-shielded cell, the same one where his own torture had begun.
"Hemlock's office is the next hall over," admitted Crosshair, speaking for the first time since his confrontation with Echo. Both had turned off their communicators to ensure (Y/N) didn't hear. With anger, rising voices, and plenty of harsh words, the two had fought, utilizing the past and insults as weapons until they'd broken down into a physical fight, one Howzer struggled to break up. Eventually, though, Echo had thrown words one would consider cruel, an accusation harsher than most. Crosshair had fallen silent before stomping away, ignoring the calls for him to return.
Despite his admittance of the office's location, (Y/N) didn't leave. Instead, she stepped closer to the former sniper, placing her shaky hand on his stiff, armored shoulder. Silently conveying she was there for him as he had been for her. Despite his thick black armor, Crosshair still felt her burning touch as he felt his fear replaced with what he assumed was love. Without warning, he turned to her, pulling her closer again, wrapping her small frame in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair, if only to hide the anguish tears. He needed her. He knew that now but still refused to admit it out loud.
"Together," she whispered, her voice warm and soothing. "Neither of us can do this alone. Even if we think we can," (Y/N) added, her words meant for Rex and Gregor too. She knew they searched for answers too, for information on their other brothers once a part of the empire, for those not present during the last fight the Batch had faced. They, too, were in denial when it came to loss; they refused to admit that not all their brothers sent to the mountain had survived to be freed, and not all were there against their will either.
"When … when … when all …. all … all … all that's left of … of … of … of me is love …"
The carefree voice of (Y/N)'s past self rang from the pack Crosshair carried, the words haunting yet familiar. Guilt wrote itself across the former sniper's features; he'd taken the goggles from the ship, although he couldn't say for sure why. Just like before, with the random clip of (Y/N), it was like Tech was trying to tell them something.
Tears shone in (Y/N)'s eyes now. She knew those words. She'd only spoken them to Tech, the first battle after she'd poured her heart out to him. No other batcher knew of them. Despite her tears, a smile came forth. Of course, he'd recorded her, kept the snippets of the past safe, hidden even from the empire.
Despite the building grief and the reminder of her past happiness, (Y/N) pushed forward; the office was close now, and she had to get there. She had to find what she searched for, even in the face of fear and the suffocating unknown. She tried so hard to push away the words of the past, the words spoken in an effort to soothe Tech and his sudden unexplainable fear of losing her. Now, in a harsh, even cruel turn of events, she had lost him and tried as hard as possible not to accept it, even when it was becoming impossible.
Silence had taken over again by the time they reached the office. Echo and Howzer had also rejoined the group. Although the former Arc Trooper and sniper kept their distance, no word was uttered between them. The door to Hemlock's office slid open as if they were expected, and upon entering, the silence continued. Echo headed toward the computer and the data banks hidden in the room. While Howzer stood watch outside with Gregor.
Rex had followed Echo, and neither noticed (Y/N) drifting toward the shelf to the left of the small windowless room where a collection of bits and pieces is neatly arranged. Tears stung her eyes once more; most of the objects were meaningless, but not the one on the pedestal below the self. There in all its broken glory was Tech's helmet.
"He's gone," cried (Y/N), picking up the helmet in a firm grip and holding it to her chest as she fell. No longer did she bother to hold her pain at bay or her crippling grief. Instead, her fragile heart shattered beyond any hope of repair, and she finally accepted that she couldn't save her love or bring him back. He was gone, forever lost to her.
Crosshair knelt at her side again, once again pulling her into his grip, cushioning the broken helmet between them, his own tears gushing now. Although he'd accepted Tech was gone, he sacrificed himself to save those he loved that fateful day. It still hurts, even more so when you see (Y/N) broken upon accepting it.
"Listen to me, Shortfire," whispered Crosshair, as if his words were a closely guarded secret. "You're not alone. You never have been. You have us. We'll help you through. We'll honor him together and remember him in our own unique way. He'll always be with us like you were always with him."
Soon enough, the former sniper reached for the shattered goggles, the blue static-filled hue forming a blurry figure. The same words from before are still repeating, messy, and in a broken order. Deep down, Crosshair questioned if the clip was the last one Tech had watched before the end, the last memory he had relieved before the inevitable.
"When … when … when …. when all … all … all … all that's … that's … that's left … left … left … left of me … me … me … me is love … love … love … love"
"Give me away," she finished (Y/N), speaking the final part of the hushed vow, tears flowing down her cheeks. She knew one of the three men in the room with her would ask. She could sense their confusion even as she felt her own pain.
"(Y/N)," called Echo, as if to ask for further information; his own paled eyes swam with his own grief, but still, he focused on why he was there. Why were Rex, Gregor, and Howzer there in the first place?
"Don't," hissed Crosshair as if to ward away an intrusion. "Let her grieve. We lost our brother. She lost her soul," he whispered, holding (Y/N) a little tighter, her whispered words were impossible to understand now, a mix of hicups, tears, heartbreak and mumbles. "She'll tell us when she's ready," hoped Crosshair, coming to terms with the knowledge she may never be ready to repeat those words nor say what they meant. Even as cold as he once was, he knew the words repeating, and (Y/N)'s own was more sacred than the force itself.
"Come back," (Y/N) whispered, hugging both Crosshair and the broken helmet. "Please come back, Tech … I love you … come back," her wails grew louder the more her broken heart shattered further. He was gone; there was nothing she could do to bring him back nor make amends for her words the day she left. "It should have been me," she cried. "Why did they take him away? Why did the maker have to be so kriffing cruel."
"It shouldn't have been either of you," called Gregor from the door. At some point, he and Howzer had entered after hearing (Y/N) painful cries. Crosshair could only offer a soft nod to the Commando, who offered words and a little comfort, who ignored the recording and her previous words in an effort to help. "None of us should have suffered as we have. The force brought you together. The empire tore you apart."
Silently, Rex handed something to Crosshair. No words escaped either soldier as the former sniper pressed the tip of the small vial to (Y/N)'s exposed neck, pressing the little button and hearing the hiss as the contents were injected. His tight hold didn't loosen as (Y/N)'s sobs grew quieter, nor as she grew heavier in his arms. Instead, when the former Jedi had fallen into peaceful silence, he moved to hold her as if she were a bride; Echo reached for Tech's broken helmet upon unplugging from the useless computer. Carefully, he placed the last reminder of Tech in (Y/N)'s hands, knowing it'd be safe with her and protected from further harm or damage.
"When all that's left of me is love. Give me away."
This time, the words weren't the broken, muddled, and static ones from the previous clip, nor were they in (Y/N) 's voice. They were Tech's. It was clear to the men hearing it that the simple message was meant for (Y/N), the Jedi he'd love so much. The words were likely chosen carefully. Although they were lost to the group of them, they would mean something to the love they were meant for.