Chapter Text
There was always some force at work between them all. Some invisible pull that kept bringing them back to one another despite everything working against them, pulling them apart. Like not even the laws of physics could quantify or account for this strange phenomenon that brought their little family together. Yes, they could be separated if enough outside force was applied, but…there was always that pull back. You could fight it, but it would always be there. And why would they want to fight it in the first place? Together was where they belonged. This strange magnetism knew it, and so should they.
In theory, he had to wonder if none of them had ever met when they did…would this force still exist? Would they always still find their way to one another eventually, drawn by this invisible pull between them?
How curious a theory. How strange a phenomenon.
Crosshair was beginning to prefer unconsciousness now to whatever else was happening around him. He’d done what he wanted to do. He’d warned them. His shattered soul felt partially mended once again, knowing he’d tried to help them. If only he’d woken up sooner from whatever waking nightmare the Empire had him living through, then maybe he would have been able to run away with them.
But it was too late for all that. He’d made his choice when he’d chosen to stay behind. And he’d made it again when he sent them the signal for Plan 88. It was always going to be too late for Crosshair, but…he hoped it wasn’t too late for them.
His days had become a confusing mess of waking disoriented, and then going blank for unknown amounts of time. He didn’t even know if days, weeks, or months had passed given the irregularity of it all. Sometimes he’d wake strapped to the medical bench, waiting for whatever tests Hemlock had planned next, and other times he’d wake in a cot in a cell. Sore, cold and alone.
There seemed to be no pattern to it, and the only things that Crosshair could recognize these days were of his tormentors and the ceilings he was wheeled under.
I’ve done my part. What happens now doesn’t matter. Let them do what they must, and hopefully I’ll just…fade away.
He wasn’t spoken to much, beyond general checks that he was still somewhat cognizant, and that suited Crosshair just fine. Except for the part where it meant that the few times he was alone then all he had were his own thoughts and memories to keep him company. Somehow that was more painful than any test they could run, but he still turned to those memories like they were the last bright stars in an otherwise empty galaxy.
It hurt to think of them, but they were also the only thing that could ever possibly make him happy.
He thought of memories of Wrecker. His largest and most playful brother. He thought of their many games they played together on missions, and if he thought hard enough he sometimes could remember the feeling of his brother’s arms squeezing him in a suffocating embrace. If he were to hope, Wrecker would be somewhere fun and lively right now. Eating to his heart and his stomach’s content. Laughing at some joke he just told that none of the others would get.
Echo came to mind often too. He may not have been with Echo for as long as the others, but there was an unshakable bond there nonetheless. He had all the respect in the galaxy for Echo, and looked up to his newest ori’vod in moments like this. Echo had been held and experimented on by the enemy too. And look how strong he’d become from it. Crosshair wishes he could be that strong. He hoped Echo found purpose again. His brother bled gladly being a soldier of the republic. Sedentary life wasn’t for him.
It hurt to think of Hunter, but it was nearly impossible not to. It still pained him to remember Hunter’s face when Crosshair had refused to return with them, but at the time Crosshair didn’t see any other way. He wasn’t ready to trust the others again. Look where it got him. Despite their disagreements, before and after the war, Crosshair missed him fiercely. Hunter gave them stability, and Crosshair felt dizzy now without it. He could remember happier times, when he would stay up with Hunter late into the night going over previous missions. Puzzling through the worst ones to decide together where they had gone wrong and how to fix it going forward. Coming up with new plans to add to their numerical system. Crosshair still had them all memorized. Plan 88 had been at the forefront when he’d tried to warn them. Surely they remembered too.
Oddly enough, he also thought about the kid. His few interactions with here had been…unpleasant, but that was more to do with circumstances than her in particular. His brothers wouldn’t have kept her around if they didn’t care about her though. Otherwise, she’d be handed off to someone else by now. Like Rex, or Cut. He wondered what made her so special that everyone was out to get her, and why his brothers would risk their lives to keep her safe time and time again. Sometimes…he liked to think of the memory of all of them in the mess, fighting together. Even if it had been with just fists and food. It was as close as they’d all been to being together. He wishes he could go back there sometimes and fix everything. Back then there was still time.
Most painfully of all though, and the memories that he couldn’t avoid no matter how much he tried…were of his vod’ika. They brought as much hurt as they did comfort in the dark hours alone in this place. His memories of his brother went back so far, surpassing his memories of the others, and were so full of the best and worst times of his life. But Tech had always been there. Always loved and supported him. He had been the only one who ever truly understood him…until he left with the others. That was what truly hurt the most. That Tech had chosen to leave with the batch rather than stay with his first brother. Of course, Crosshair now understood why. His brother was brilliant enough to foresee the direction the Empire was headed in and knew remaining would go against his morals and destroy his kind spirit. And here Crosshair thought he was the one gifted with the best sight in their karked up little family.
It still hurt to see him walk away though.
What he’d give to see him again. He’d apologize. Tech would understand. He always did.
But it wasn’t to be it seemed. No matter how much he wished it, they were gone and hopefully in hiding. And Crosshair was here.
He sighed and glanced up at the ceiling, his attention pulled from his memories at frantic voices and hurried feet outside the room. The door had been left open a bit, because they all knew Crosshair wouldn’t be able to go anywhere strapped down like this. And he could only barely turn his head to see a flurry of motion out in the corridor. He couldn’t see much besides the uniforms of the scientists, but he could see them all scrambling around a floating stretcher. There were blood stained sheets flashing in between, but he couldn’t make out anything of who was on the stretcher.
“No pulse, we need to start compressions!”
“Get the bacta tank ready, STAT.”
“I count three spinal fractures and one cranial fracture. Ruptured spleen. Multiple contusions.”
“Hurry then, Hemlock wants him alive. He’s got plans for this one.”
They were gone moments later, headed to a different lab. Crosshair quickly lost interest now that the commotion had passed. Whoever that was, he hoped for their sake that they didn’t make it. Not when all that would await him was whatever Hemlock had planned. It would be a mercy to be free before he got his hands on them.
Omega didn’t know what to think, or do, or even feel. It was like she’d felt so much all at once that something broke inside of her and now she felt nothing at all. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since…since…
She didn’t know how she could still be crying when she couldn’t feel anything.
She’d always tried so hard to be hopeful, and always wanted to believe everything would be okay because…her brothers told her it would be. But now she couldn’t believe them. She couldn’t even believe herself. She was just some scared kid who didn’t realize that playing soldier could mean losing her family.
For as long as she’d been with her brothers, she’d always insisted on joining them in their dangerous missions. Treating them like they were games. Even getting excited for them. In her eyes, her brothers were invincible. She would always be safe if she was with them. Only…they weren’t invincible. And she wasn’t with them now. Everything she thought and believed in was wrong.
He was gone. They were gone. They wouldn’t know how to find her, and…she didn’t want them to anymore. Not if it meant…losing someone again. Never again. Nothing could hurt worse than this.
How foolish she’d been.
Omega sniffled again, wiping tears from her eyes. The kerchief on her wrist was soaked through at this point, but she didn’t dare take it off. This was one of Hunter’s bandanas. One of the last things she had of her brothers. She’d never take it off. She’d already lost so much.
More tears came and she couldn’t even find the strength to wipe them away. She didn’t know what was going to happen. What they even wanted her for. That scared her too.
Her thoughts turned to Crosshair. He was here. He was alive. That was…good, she supposed. It meant was wasn’t entirely alone, but…as much as she wanted to be with her brother she dreaded facing him awake.
He’d always been stern, but she knew from talking to the others that it was just his personality. That he truly cared for his family in his own way. And she believed that.
And she knew that when he saw her then he’d know what happened. He’d know they hadn’t listened to him, and that they had failed. And worse…they’d lost Tech.
Omega choked on a sob, burying her face in her arms, crying out for someone who would never come to comfort her again.
She’d heard enough stories from Wrecker and Hunter to know how special Tech was to the sniper. She couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to tell him that his favorite brother had died trying to save Crosshair. It was just too much to even think about, and Omega found it getting hard to breathe around her cries.
She just wanted to go home.
Not just the Marauder. Her home. With all of them.
“Please, please, please, let this just be a bad dream. I want to wake up now. I want to wake up. Please!”
The ship had never been this quiet before.
Years ago the ship had been filled with the sounds of his brothers going about their duties and living the lives that had been promised to them from their decanting. Shuffling feet when one of them got up from a nap, metallic clicks from where Tech was working on repairs, a soft cloth over metal where Crosshair was cleaning their weapons, a thump where Wrecker moved crates. Talking, snoring, laughing, bickering, just living.
It had gotten even more lively when Echo came on board. Adding another voice to their chorus. And even more bickering. But also more living.
It had gotten quiet when Crosshair had left, but Omega did her best to fill that silence as best she could. The others always heard the emptiness where Crosshair once was. A missed snarky reply, no sarcastic joke in the middle of a brief, and no soft words of comfort when he thought no one was listening.
Still, Omega added her own type of life to their little home. Because Hunter now saw it for what it had been for years. Their home.
Well, now that home was broken and silent.
Hunter felt like a ghost haunting his own ship, listlessly pacing the floor like a lost specter. The fire within him that burned with the need to get back what was taken was still there, but it flickered faintly in these moments where they still found themselves directionless. Sure, they could all agree they would get Omega and Crosshair back, but actually finding the means and intel to do that was another beast to manage.
Tech would know what to look for, Hunter thought and immediately felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Another failure. They wouldn’t even be able to find his brother. Not when he was…gone. He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. It stuck in his throat and threatened to choke him if he even tried to say it.
It took all of Hunter’s strength these days just to get out of his bunk and to keep going. He still had two brothers to keep safe, and a mission. Their last mission. It had to be. He couldn’t keep doing this. Not again.
It hurt to look at Wrecker. His brother was always full of joy and radiated it like he was some sort of happy nuclear warhead. To see him this sad, this broken…it didn’t even look like his brother most days. Sometime in the first few days, Wrecker had stumbled upon one of Tech’s old data pads. One of the ones he used to store his old recordings in. Hunter hadn’t seen Wrecker put it down since, his face lit up by the blue glow of the screen as he watched the endless collections stored there.
The sounds that came from it back in the bunk room were more haunting than anything. Voices of happier times. Of voices that weren’t there anymore. Ghosts. Like Hunter.
Hunter knew that Wrecker was suffering from guilt over what happened with Tech. There was no need to blame himself, but there was no convincing him otherwise. The only thing that got Wrecker to perk up even a little was when they thought they may get information about finding the others, but then he’d shrink back in on himself when it turned out to be nothing.
Hunter didn’t know how to help him either, because he was still struggling with his own guilt. Like a snake wrapped around his neck, tightening with each passing minute that Tech was gone, and the others taken.
Useless. Couldn’t even help the brother he’d known forever.
Stars above, was it going to be just them again? Him and Wrecker alone once Echo had moved on back to Rex? Like that lonely time back before Crosshair and Tech came to them? Hunter shook his head, he couldn’t think about that now. There was still a chance to get the others back, even if it wasn’t…all of them.
They were lucky enough that Echo had stated firmly that he wasn’t going anywhere until they found the others. That whatever Rex had going on would wait. Hunter didn’t think he would be able to manage without him there. And he had a feeling that Echo wasn’t ready to leave them either.
Echo had already lost so much in his life. Tech had been one of the first good things he’d gotten back. A good friend and a beloved vod’ika, and Echo had that ripped away from him like another limb. But Echo always had hope in him. The reason he fought to hard to be saved after he’d been captured so long ago was his unshakable hopefulness. Well, maybe it was a little shaken now. He’d never seen Echo look so broken. But he was here, and he had promised to stay until they were whole again. Or as whole as they ever could be.
Even now, Echo was holed up in the cockpit. Preferring to be alone in his misery, isolating himself whenever was possible on a small ship like this. It hurt that Echo didn’t want to be near them, but then again, Hunter understood. Crosshair had once separated himself in order to protect himself from any more hurt.
Still, seeing Echo this desolate was painful. He’d known the ARC trooper had grown very fond of their vod’ika. Hunter would even go so far as to say Tech was his best friend. Or had been anyway.
Despite Echo’s obvious signs that he’d rather be left alone though, Hunter found himself drawn to the cockpit when he caught sight of something glinting in Echo’s hands. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt drawn there nonetheless.
With only enough sound from his feet to give Echo warning, Hunter came up behind the co-pilot’s chair. No one sat in the pilot’s chair anymore unless they were actively flying, and even then they’d all jump up the moment they were done. Hunter cleared his throat, crackly from disuse, to give Echo a warning in case he needed to compose himself again.
“What is it, Hunter?” Echo didn’t sound like he’d been crying this time, but there was a tiredness to his voice that hinted that he’d probably had a session or two already that morning.
Taking it as an invitation, Hunter took a step to come around the chair, careful to not look at or touch the unoccupied one across from it, “Just wanted to see how you were doing. It looked like you were working on something.” He glanced down at Echo’s lap, expecting to see whatever it was that he’d been fiddling with, but instead he just saw Echo’s arms folded over his chest awkwardly. Obviously hiding something.
Echo shrugged nonchalantly, “Just tinkering a bit. Distractions and all that.”
“Hmm,” Hunter replied ineloquently. He was useless with words of comfort at the best of times. At the worst of times he just was terrible, probably making things worse, “Can I help?”
Echo startled, his arms reflexively tightening over whatever he had stashed in them. His eyes were wide and frantic for a minute, like he’d been caught doing something bad, but then they moistened and fell back to his lap knowing he’d been caught.
He hesitated for a moment more before slowly unraveling his arms. That’s when Hunter caught sight of the same glint that he’d spotted before. In the form of Tech’s shattered goggles in Echo’s lap.
Hunter felt his face crumple as he fell to his knees beside Echo, much like he’d done when they’d been thrown at him carelessly days before. His hands hovered over them for a moment before he snatched them back against his chest, and he looked up at Echo with unshed tears in his eyes.
“His goggles. Why?”
Echo sniffed, looking only at the goggles in his hands, “It just didn’t seem right to leave them a mess like this. He’d have hated that. I wanted to fix them up, but I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Hunter couldn’t bring himself to touch them, but he managed to lay a hand over Echo’s, “You’ve become quite the mechanic yourself. I’m sure you could manage. And he’d like that.”
Echo laugh wetly, but there was no humor there, “I’m only as good as I am because he taught me.”
“Then you were taught by the best. He’d trust you to do it.”
Echo nodded, his throat bobbing with emotions, “I’ll try. The recorder is damaged too, so it may take a while, but…we’ve got time.”
Unfortunately, they had plenty of time. Without anything to go on, they were floating dead in the water waiting for news. At least Echo had found something constructive. Hunter felt more broken than the goggles held between them, but he didn’t think any amount of time would be enough to repair him.
Such a strange emptiness.
Familiar, yet not.
Have I been here before?
I have no memory of this place.
There were…sensations. Painful, fleeting, comforting, lingering.
He didn’t have anything to compare it too.
How unsettling.
There was pain, but there was also no pain. He knew it should hurt in places, but instead he felt nothing there. But why was he in pain in the first place?
What was happening?
What had happened?
Why was he here?
Where was here?
Have I always been here?
All his thoughts seemed to echo distantly in his head, with nothing there to buffer or bolster them. Were heads supposed to feel this empty? That couldn’t be right though. If this felt wrong, then it must be. But what would feel right?
He felt like he was floating, but did he even know what floating felt like? It did feel nice though. Enough to gently coax him back into oblivion. Oblivion was also nice. Far less confusing.
And he didn’t have to try to remember what he’d forgotten.
“Sir, we should have waited before wiping his mind. With the cranial fracture his brain was already damaged enough. We had to use neurogenesis stimulant cells to repair the damage. They might have—”
“He won’t remember anything, and his intelligence has been preserved. That’s all that matters.”
“But sir, it—”
“He will never remember anything of his past life. That is the only way that we will be able to keep him here. I have plans for these clones, and I can’t have him escaping and taking the others with him.”
“…Yes, sir.”