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The Empire had fallen.
A long and gruesome fight, over at last.
A relief, truly. But she was tired. So, so very tired. She was bred to be a soldier, and to fight. But fighting was exhausting and she wasn’t particularly fond of it.
Lives shouldn’t be taken so needlessly.
Her family had given up the fight ten years ago, when their bodies began to fail them.
Echo was the first to go. He was already older than the others, and his body had taken extensive damage while held as prisoner of the Techno-Union. They mourned him quietly. The last Domino had fallen.
Wrecker was next. It wasn’t really surprising. He was bigger, and his heart couldn’t handle the stress of his size.
Crosshair passed three years after they laid down their weapons. His eyesight was failing him, his most prized possession. He died shortly thereafter. She never got word what happened to Tech.
And Hunter followed the pack.
That was the last she’d heard from them, Crosshair’s death. Nearly seven years ago, just to send a message that another one of her clan, her aliit, was dead.
It was just too risky for them to send constant messages. Not with the Empire searching for them and hunting them down. Any transmission was a risk. And she loved her family too much to put them at risk just because she missed them.
By this point, she figured they were all dead. They would be about thirty-five stand cycles by now. With their enhanced aging, they were comparable to a seventy year old nat born. Her aging put her at about fifty, if she was nat born. Her hair was still its light blonde, with a few gray streaks hovering in the strands. Her hair rested choppily, just above her chin in length.
She tried to grow it out once. It proved impractical. She didn’t know how Hunter kept his hair long during the Clone War.
She regretted never asking him.
“General Organa!” Omega called out, catching up to step with the princess. She panted slightly, watching as the younger woman gave her a look. She playfully glared back, and caught her breath. She wasn’t as young as she used to be.
“Yes?”
“I’m leaving. I’m sorry but I’m not going to stay now that the Empire is gone.” Leia nodded solemnly, as if expecting this.
“I understand.”
“Good luck, with building the New Republic, and all.” They shared a wistful smile, one sisters-in-arms did. Omega wasn’t very close with Leia, but there was a deep, mutual respect shared between the pair.
They saluted each other, and Omega rushed off to find a small ship to take her to her family’s last known location. She only hoped she wouldn’t stumble upon a pile of bones.
The flight was about a rotation long, and Omega allowed herself to sleep (albeit in the cockpit) of the ship.
Her mind drifted to when she first met them, Crosshair under the sway of the Empire and Hunter immediately taking her under his wing. When he allowed Omega to cuddle with him when she got nightmares. Wrecker playfully using her as a weight to do bicep curls. Crosshair letting her speak her mind without interruptions. Her and Tech doing repairs on the Havoc Marauder. Echo’s comforting presence, allowing her to tinker with his cybernetics and using him as a pillow when she got tired.
The ship beeped, awaking Omega and alerting her it was time to drop out of hyperspace.
She plugged in the coordinates sent to her a decade ago, when her family first left the war. She hoped they hadn’t moved, even if she wouldn’t blame them if they had. Being a fugitive was a hard life.
She touched down, in an open meadow about a klick from the coordinates. She hadn’t spotted the Havoc Marauder or any sort of settlement, but that might have been from the dense forest directly around the coordinates.
The trees were nowhere near as thick or as tall as the ones on the moon of Endor, but kriff if it wasn’t a whole lot of trees.
Grumbling to herself, Omega grabbed her pack and powered down the ship, not entirely excited to hike a mile in the forest. Especially since she was confident her family was dead.
Preparing herself for the worst, Omega started her trek.
At just about .1 klick from the coordinates, she spotted a small cottage, covered in local plants. She had yet to spot the old Republic gunship she used to call home, but she had little worry. It was likely just hidden in all the trees, perhaps covered in shrubbery after being stationary for ten years.
Steeling her nerves, Omega walked up to the door of the cottage and knocked.
And waited.
Her heart sank to the floor, but she continued forward. She had a mission objective, after all. Even if the mission was just a personal one. She opened the door, pulling a face when she realized it was unlocked, and entered the house.
“Hunter? Tech?” She called out, hoping she hid the desperation of her voice. She was alone, wasn’t she? Even though she had rationalized it made perfect sense for them all to be dead by now, she allowed herself a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, one of them was alive.
Or, maybe even both.
But she knew she shouldn’t have wishes that large. The weight of such hope was enough to shatter a person.
“Hunter? Tech?” She called out again, allowing her voice to break as tears gathered in her eyes. She was the last Bad Batcher. The last remaining clone.
Omega. The end.
The final.
Ironic, and awfully fitting.
But terribly, terribly lonely.
“Omega?” She turned around abruptly, hand reaching up for the bow strapped to her back. War reflexes.
And then she froze.
It wasn’t the same face she had seen ten years ago. His hair was white, and longer than she’d ever seen it. The bandana was gone, so it fell slightly in front of his eyes. Wrinkles adorned his skin, and his face was weathered with age.
But it was Hunter.
Her Hunter.
Her buir.
All she could do was stand, mouth open and blinking widely, at the man that stood in front of her.
“Omega,” He whispered to himself, stepping forward.
Omega, gaining her wits, rushed forward, crushing into the aged body her last remaining family member and wrapping him in a tight hug. Sure, she had formed close friendships in the Rebellion, but none were her family.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized they were the same height. They weren’t when he left, ten years ago.
“I thought you were dead.” She croaked out, burying her face into his neck and inhaling sharply.
She felt Hunter’s arms around her squeeze even tighter.
They stayed in that embrace, just taking in each other, for a long, long time. She was trembling. Or was he?
Hunter eventually pulled back, and grabbed her face to examine her. “You’re so tall, adi’ka.”
She laughed, wetly, placing her own hands atop his, “I know.” Tears were streaming down both their faces, and Hunter’s thumbs gently wiped hers away. He pulled her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before gently leaning his own forehead against her.
A Keldabe kiss.
They stayed there, breathing the same air and marveling that the other was alive.
Eventually, Omega pulled Hunter back into a bone crushing hug that Hunter was pretty sure could've topped Wrecker’s. She did learn from the best.
“Where’s Tech?” She whispered, after a long period of silence. Hunter didn't answer for a moment, and Omega had her answer. He responded anyway, more for his sake then hers.
“He died about two cycles ago. Its just been me for a long time,” His voice was cracked with disuse. She pulled back from the hug this time, watching as he smiled, nostalgically.
Hunter eventually led them both to a couch, and they sat beside each other in silence. Silence was a much better communicator than words, at the moment.
“The Empire is gone.” She spoke, suddenly.
He nodded, grey eyebrows pulling upwards, “I figured. You would be on the frontlines if it weren’t.” It was meant to be funny, but the reality of the words were frightening to both.
She smirked, punching his shoulder lightly.
Silence wrapped around the two of them again, but this time the two were cuddled close to one another and holding onto the other like a lifeline.
By the time was set and Omega sure that Hunter was asleep, Omega spoke the words she had wanted to say for a long, long time.
“I love you, buir.”
But he wasn't asleep, and he had needed to hear those words be spoken for a long, long time.
“I love you too, ad.”