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He was gone. He was gone.
His little brother, his second in command, his rock. The clouds took him down, and Hunter could do nothing, nothing , but hope that the clouds were cold and merciful and soft on Tech’s flailing bones as he slipped through his fingers, through Wrecker and Echo’s fingers, through Omega’s fingers.
It shouldn’t have ended like this. It shouldn’t have been so cruel and demonstrative of how these five poor child soldiers were abandoned by everybody. It shouldn’t have shown Hunter that this is what the Empire was willing to do to them, to all of them, but it did.
He couldn’t watch. He cursed himself as his ungloved fingers gripped the bandana on his head while the heels of his palms dug into his eye sockets to suppress any and all tears that were to come, because the part of him that stood against everything he knows so Caleb Dume wouldn’t die that was dormant when a chance to save Crosshair rose up, refused to accept a reality so evil that the blood of his blood was falling to his death and he could do nothing about it so it absurdly pushed him towards averting his sharp eyes towards the enemy and not towards the thick clouds surrounding the snowy mountains through which little Tech was falling.
He had so much to live for. So much to amount to. Omega strolled through the Marauder last night when Tech was asleep to show Hunter that she’d almost finished all of her tests on the datapad Tech gave her from his spare pack back from the war. Phee smiled into her cup when Hunter mentioned that she should ask Tech if he wanted to take the boat out for a little change of scenery when they were having dinner a few days before. His brother was so loved. He deserved all of that love, and now, Hunter was unprepared. Unprepared to face a grieving Omega, unprepared to tell Phee that Tech did like her back because Tech himself wouldn’t be able to tell her now, unprepared to look at himself in the mirror and see the failure he’s become.
The wait was agonising. His heart threatened to burst when he saw Omega and Wrecker surrounded by debris on the soil then Echo begging Wrecker to wake up and it wouldn’t stop exhorting his tired arteries until his body eventually carried him and the team back to the Marauder. The silence in the cold embrace of hyperspace tested his every emotion that the Kaminoans crushed under their machines so he could stiffen up his pouty lip and get ready to march into war as an elite soldier a decade ago, the tap of every button by Echo and the creak of the chair as Wrecker shifted his weight while attempting to get a shut eye with his neck injury (that made Hunter’s stomach churn because Wrecker gave up his bunk for Omega), all made Hunter want to rip his hair out over and over, but he persisted. He couldn’t let anybody see his weakness, he couldn’t make himself the centre of attention now, when Wrecker and Echo were also stepping over their poor hearts, when Omega was unconscious, when Tech was dead.
A tear involuntarily slid down his face and he audibly gulped, biting his lip to choke down his sobs.
Oh, he’s really dead, isn’t he?
Echo tapped his shoulder, “Hey,” he whispered, and Hunter slowly lowered his hands from his eyes to look up at Echo, or down, because Echo was crouching in front of him and worriedly taking in his state. “You can’t keep putting away your grief, Hunter, much less your physical pain,”
Hunter’s eyes watered again and he let out a sigh full of despair that sprung out from the deepest part of him. “I’m okay, Echo,” Hunter rasped, but it really came out as a whimper, and Echo’s face fell further, if that was even possible at this point. “You don’t have to worry about me. Check on Wrecker, he needs it far more,” He deserves it far more.
“You sure you’re not injured? I saw you limping, earlier,”
“Echo…I said—”
“I know what you said, but you’re hit, Hunter, we’re all hit, and I can’t have you go comatose because you don’t want to be a burden.” Echo emphasised with a low voice, and Hunter ignored him then stood up.
“I’ll go check on Omega,” he muttered, but Echo took him by the elbow.
“She’s still out,” he stressed. Hunter frowned and attempted to escape Echo’s grip, but he winced, realising that he’d probably torn a muscle pushing the debris off his body. Echo gave him a pointed, knowing look then motioned to the chair Hunter had been sitting on and the other man audibly sighed before sinking back onto the chair. Echo bit on one end of the bandage and wrapped it around Hunter’s bicep, tightening it so it doesn’t distract Hunter’s heightened, now apprehensive, senses.
“I’ve got you. Just gotta get you to a couple bacta shots.” He patted Hunter’s other shoulder, but Hunter averted his eyes from Echo. “Don’t worry, they’ll be okay soon enough,”
“Will they?” This wasn’t Hunter. Whoever spoke now wasn’t the stoic, angry, goal-oriented leader of Clone Force 99. It was an afraid boy, a shiny before leaving Kamino for the first time, a kid clinging to Echo’s leg back at some of his campaigns with the 501st, asking him if his people will be freed soon.
“Yes, they will,” Echo insisted, making Hunter look back up at him. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, then Echo spoke softly: “We’ll be alright, Hunter,”
Hunter’s eyes softened. It was nice to hear Echo out of everybody say that. He felt like a child, waiting for the word of an older person to soothe and validate him, but it wasn’t any easier. He was so afraid. He couldn’t let it show, not more than he already has.
But Echo and Wrecker were still there. His brothers who respected every decision he’s made since the war ended, capable men themselves, holding him up as a leader to this day, with his many failures and shortcomings, with his hesitation and vulnerability and fear of expressing his true self, with the softness that came with the little girl that ripped him apart piece by piece to find a heart buried deep in the soil, stayed with him. Every day, they put aside their own aspirations and desires so Hunter can lead the way to a deeper understanding of a world without war on his own terms. He doesn’t deserve them, he never has.
“Thank you, Echo,” Hunter managed. “For— for staying, through all of this,”
Echo tilted his head. “Of course. You’re my family, first and foremost,” he gave his brother a squeeze on the shoulder before moving on to check on Wrecker.
Hunter leaned back in his chair, battling the beast inside of him once again. He thought of the clouds again, he thought of how beautiful Eriadu was when they first arrived there and when he saw Tech bookmark a data log on the planet on his datapad, titled ‘Phee’, in the corner of his eye as they prepared to leave the ship. He thought of Tech.
He couldn’t not.
It was absurd, now, that he knew Tech would’ve willingly fallen to his death had Hunter said the word. He couldn’t live with it, he couldn’t even let that thought complete itself. Mind captivated by grief, Hunter found himself longing for the uncertainty he so loathed one day, he wanted the failed missions and the reprimanding Tech and Echo gave him even if they were passing words. He wanted to experience the lightness he experienced when he and Omega jokingly called Tech’s comm to annoy him even though he was sitting across from them in the pilot chair. He wanted Tech back. There were so many things left unsaid between the leader and his right-hand man.
It seemed like the galaxy refused them being a pack of six no matter what. It made Hunter hate whatever the Force was.
By the time he left his trance, Wrecker was awake. The eldest of the Bad Batch was staring at Hunter’s resting form with half shut eyes and choking down tears of his own. His neck was sickeningly blue. Hunter felt himself smile— Wrecker’s presence did ground him, most of the time. “Hey, boss, you alright?” He breathed.
Hunter nodded. “We’ll need to get you a neck brace. Try not to move your head so much.”
“Echo said the same thing.” Wrecker crossed his unarmoured arms and shifted his weight on the chair. “Doesn’t really hurt, ya’know, not with everything going on,” Wrecker’s cheery tone seemed to have left him long ago. It was sickening to remember he had been laughing and carrying Omega on his shoulders just a few hours ago. Hunter’s uninjured arm reached out in the space between him and Wrecker and he placed his hand in his brother’s larger one. Wrecker’s genuine smile was a sight to see. Hunter remembered wanting to die to see it when they were cadets, and now, old and used and tired , Hunter surrendered to his tears.
“Oh, Sarge,” Wrecker faltered, tightening his grip on Hunter’s hand, as if they were anchor and drowned. “I miss him, too,”
“It shouldn’t have been like this, Wrecker,” Hunter puled. Wrecker frowned and stood, pulling Hunter to his feet and into his protective arms.
“I’m sorry,” Wrecker muttered.
“It’s not your fault more than it’s mine,” He sobbed. “I— Plan ninety-nine was my idea. I thought ‘twas gonna be me.”
“Hunter…”
“It should’ve been me!” Hunter’s knees quivered underneath him, and he only felt Echo’s warm flesh hand on his back when his knees hit the ground and two pairs of arms held him as they also shed tears of their own.
“We need you as much as we needed him, Hunter,” That was Echo. “We need you to help her,”
Hunter’s heart sank further at the thought of Omega. His little girl. His curious, bright, beautiful girl. Almost everything he’d vowed to stay alive for. Omega, who found beauty in the most absurd things, who, with his help, accepted a childhood so fragile and irregular, who found a brother and a father in him and each of his brothers and loved them all like nobody ever did.
Omega, who watched Hunter fall down a mountain on Daro and stepped on his very soul with her desperate words over the comms, and who stood frozen like a pilgrim standing vigil watching her mentor give his life away so she could live on. The strongest person in this band of misfits, really, a girl who was born waiting to be held and loved. A girl so loved that she entered the heart of the very concrete she walked upon.
The string that pulled Hunter out of hell every morning since Order sixty-six.
“All I do is fail her, Echo.” Hunter sniffled, “it was Tech who helped her.”
Wrecker’s hand nestled into Hunter’s unruly hair. “You’ve never failed her, Hunter,” he said, his ebullience traded for such heartbreaking emotion that Hunter’s systems denied hearing at first. “You’ve never failed any of us.”
Hunter slowly rested his forehead against Wrecker’s and he took a deep breath, clasping Echo’s flesh hand close to his chest and drowning in the mess of limbs on the cockpit floor that was his family, or what was left of it. His family, anyway. He wouldn’t trade them for anything this galaxy could give him, he knew that now, he would never give them away to anyone.
“I want him back,” Wrecker said brokenly.
“We all do, Wrecker,” Echo muttered, and Hunter saw him cast a glance at the pilot chair with a faraway look, expecting Tech to turn around and give them all a mission briefing, or a lecture, or even a harsh scolding. Hunter knew Echo would give his heart away to hear these long rambles again, if only to hear Tech’s voice filling the Havoc Marauder with the life that was stolen from it so harshly.