pookie's place ♡

‧˚꒰ i like oc x canon and giving my characters trauma ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

[jimmyolsensleftsock]

𐙚 Kaminoan Secret ⋮ Chapter Five꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing: sergeant hunter x jedi!oc tags: multi-chapter fic, clone wars era, the bad batch before omega, hurt/comfort TWs: none!

visit my website 𖹭 learn more about jaina 𖹭 oc inspired playlist

summary: Days later, Jaina recovers in the Temple's Hall of Healing.

author's note: HELLO!!! :)) guys im so bad at summaries pls just read this chapter loll

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The oppressive chill of Kamino had been replaced by a gentle, regulated warmth that seeped through the soft, woven blankets. The endless drumming of rain was gone, silenced by soundproof walls and replaced by the faint, distant hum of Coruscant's sky-lanes and the whisper-quiet cycling of an air purifier. The stark, sterile white of the medical bay had given way to muted earth tones—sandstone-colored walls, brushed bronze fixtures, and a single, large window overlooking a tranquil meditation garden, its lush greenery a stark, living contrast to the artificial world she had escaped.

This was the Jedi Temple's Halls of Healing. A place of peace. A place she hadn’t allowed herself to even think about in the year she had been gone.

Jaina was propped up in a cushioned bed, a quilt covering her legs. She wasn’t in the grey prison uniform anymore; she was cocooned in a thick, cream-colored robe the healers had provided when she first arrived just days ago, thin and shivering.

The door to the private room slid open with a barely audible swoosh. Jaina flinched—her shoulders raising just barely—but she forced herself to relax. It wasn’t a stoic clone guard or a cold-eyed scientist; it was only Master Healer Vokara Che.

The blue-skinned Twi'lek entered the room with calm, measured steps, a datapad held loosely in one hand. The healer had enough experience in trauma to see the telltale signs of a Jedi who wasn’t fully there.

“Good morning, Master Sy’ko,” Vokara Che said, making sure to keep her voice calm and melodic. She didn’t approach the bed where Jaina was resting right away, instead stopping just a few feet away. “The last of the sedatives has worn off, and your metabolic rate is stabilizing. We managed to flush the remainder of the Kaminoan compound from your system, but it has left... significant neural scarring.”

Jaina said nothing, her gaze fixed on her hands that were still slightly trembling from the phantom chill of the ocean. The information was a cold comfort.

The healer took a slow step forward, placing the datapad by the small, circular table on Jaina’s right. “Clone Force 99 has been… persistent,” she added softly, a faint smile touching her lips. “The 212th Battalion has been stationed by the door since you came, but your clones haven’t left the halls. Commander Cody has told Sergeant Hunter, I believe, to return to command no less than twelve times.”

Jaina visibly flinched at her words. Command. What was left of Kamino after Jaina’s message? She had heard whispers from the other healers of what was happening: hundreds of Republic gunships had infiltrated Tipoca City after the Batch had confirmed with the Jedi Order that they had Jaina. The creation of clones had shut down temporarily. Halle Burtoni had framed it as an injustice in the last Senate meeting and personally called Jaina a conspirator for the Separatists.

“They are very… stubborn,” she managed, her voice wavering.

Vokara Che noticed the crack in the Jedi Master’s words. She sighed; recovery would be long, even without the political complications. “Jaina,” she murmured, using her first name. “You’re safe here. The Kaminoans are being thoroughly investigated. Justice will be served.”

Before she could say anything else, the door chime sounded. The Twi'lek turned her head. “Enter.”

The door slid open again, revealing Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. His face was etched with weariness, but his eyes were kind as they found Jaina's. He gave a slight, respectful bow of his head.

“Master Che,” he said, acknowledging the healer. He then turned his full attention to the bed. “Jaina. I am relieved to see you awake.”

He waited for a response, and—finding none—he continued, keeping a careful distance away from the cot. “Your message has, as you likely suspected, sent a tremor through the Republic,” he said, his tone somber. “The Senate is in an uproar. The Kaminoans have vehemently denied all accusations, claiming your broadcast was a sophisticated piece of Separatist propaganda using a deep-fake of a general listed as ‘missing in action’. It is, of course, a lie we on the Council know to be false.”

Obi-Wan met her eyes, his own filled with a deep, compassionate sorrow for what she had endured. “We don't need to discuss everything now. Your recovery is paramount. But... when you feel able... any detail could be the key. Perhaps we could start with a name. The man who oversaw your... treatment. The one you mentioned in your initial report to us. Knowing who was in charge would be an invaluable first step.”

Jaina didn’t speak right away, staring not quite at Kenobi’s face, but past his shoulder. She swallowed hard, the dryness in her throat a relief from the pounding in her head. She had been expecting this dull, aching sensation around her skull since returning to Coruscant. 

And along with that, she couldn’t remember anything. Not Orun Wa, not the experiments, and certainly not the man who ordered her capture. It wasn’t a fellow Kaminoan—that she was certain. It was someone with a lot of influence, someone willing to bend her own biology to give them even more power. Could it even be someone in the Republic? She pushed the thought down, knowing spiralling wouldn’t help her now.

“I—” She started, then stopped, her eyes flickering out to the large windows overseeing the upper-level city where the wealthy slept. “My squadron. I must… speak with them.” Hunter will know what to do.

Obi-Wan and Vokara Che shared a long glance, a look that silently said: Is this a good idea for her in her state? The Batch weren’t known in the GAR for being very… nurturing for someone as fragile as Jana was.

Even still, Kenobi gave a single, solemn nod, deciding it was best not to argue against her wishes. "Of course." With that, the two Jedi Masters turned and walked towards the door.

The door slid shut behind them, leaving Jaina in a fragile, almost tense silence. For a solid five minutes, she sat in absolute stillness.

Then, the sound of footsteps reached her ears. There were multiple, one pair heavier and thumping louder than the rest. Wrecker. She could hear the low murmur of a voice—Echo’s, she realized with a pang—probably telling the larger clone not to crush Jaina in a bear hug the second he saw her.

The door opened again, and for a long moment, no one moved. Then, Hunter pushed and stepped over the threshold. His face was gaunt, the tattoos stark against his pale skin. He stopped just inside the room, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of her—sitting up, alive.

Wrecker was next, moving with an uncharacteristic delicacy. He stopped a few feet behind Hunter, his gaze soft and full of a profound, gentle relief.

Tech and Echo followed, hanging back near the door to give them space. Tech had put his datapad away, his posture unusually still. Echo stood with his arms crossed, a silent, steady presence.

Crosshair was the last. He didn't enter fully, but leaned against the doorframe, one shoulder propped against the metal, a fresh toothpick jutting from his lips. His expression was unreadable, his gaze sweeping the room once before settling on her, watchful and distant.

Hunter took a slow, hesitant step forward. And then another. His hands were held at his sides, clenching and unclenching, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to touch that wouldn’t cause more pain. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his throat working for a moment before any sound came out. His voice, when it did, was a low, rough rasp, stripped of all its usual command: “General.”

Jaina’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes blinking back against sudden tears of relief. She hadn’t seen him—hadn’t seen any of her squad—since she was brought to the Temple. “Don’t,” she choked out. “Don’t call me that. Not after everything.” She reached up and scrubbed her eyes angrily, embarrassed that the once strong Jedi was now breaking in front of them. “Don’t act formal with me, please.”

In an instant, the hesitation in Hunter’s movements died. He surged forward in two quick strides, crouching in front of the bed and carefully—oh so carefully—wrapping his arms around her frail frame. “Oh, ner cyar'ika,” he murmured against her temple, his breath fluttering her black hair. “Oh, ner mesh'la cyar'ika.”

Jaina melted against him, her tears falling onto the cold plates of his armor that he was so wary of crushing her with. When her crying finally died off, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes red and watery as she met his gaze.

“They…” she stopped, looking at each clone in the room. Tech’s fingers were drumming nervously against his leg. Wrecker looked like he was about to cry himself. “They know. Hunter, they—”

“I don’t care,” Hunter cut her off, his voice firm, the sergeant slipping through. “Jaina, I don’t care. You think our secret matters? You were gone for a year. I had to pretend I didn’t love you while the Republic tried to replace you.” His voice cracked, just barely. “They’re my brothers. They’re family. And you…”

He paused, his thumb wiping away the tears on her cheek that kept flowing. “You’re mine. So that makes you a part of this family, too.” He looked up at his brothers still standing in a protective circle around them. None of them looked shocked at the reveal. Echo gave a slow nod, a show of support. Wrecker was beaming. “And we protect our own.”

credits: dividers from @angeliicide and @anitalenia

[jimmyolsensleftsock]

𐙚 Kaminoan Secret ⋮ Chapter Four꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing: sergeant hunter x jedi!oc tags: multi-chapter fic, clone wars era, the bad batch before omega, rescue mission, protective!hunter TWs: uhhh idk nothing ig :)

visit my website 𖹭 learn more about jaina 𖹭 oc inspired playlist

summary: The Bad Batch attempt a rescue mission.

author's note: HELLO GUYS IM BACK!!!! so sorry that this chapter took so long school was crazy and then i had terrible writers block :(( but im back w an extra long chapter!!! hope you enjoy and also i made a tiktok account if u guys want to follow me (linked on my website)!!

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It was the cry for help heard across the galaxy.

In the High Council chamber on Coruscant, the hologram of Jaina's message flickered and died, leaving the masters in a stunned silence. The transmitted coordinates hovered above the central projector.

Mace Windu was already on his feet, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “This is impossible. A public broadcast? Accusing the Kaminoans? How do we know this isn’t a Separatist trick? Using the face of a dead Jedi to cause chaos within Republic walls?”

“If true, a great betrayal this is,” Yoda murmured, his ears drooping. “Felt the disturbance, I did. A life, crying out in pain.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi stroked his beard, his brow furrowed with deep concern. “Kamino... I have been there. Their security is absolute. For a Jedi General to be held captive within Tipoca City itself, without our knowledge... The implications are staggering.” He stood up, his hand already drifting to the lightsaber on his belt. “We must go there at once. If Master Sy’ko is truly alive… then we must go there to investigate at once.”

“Wait, you must.” Yoda held out a small hand, stopping the younger Jedi before he could act. His eyes, once closed in a deep concentration, opened again. “Already on its way, help is.”

By the time the message reached the Marauder, Tech was already beginning preparations to change course in response to their new orders. He swiveled in his seat to meet the rest of the team, though he couldn’t meet the eyes of Hunter, who was staring at the stars whizzing past with a vacant gaze.

“I took the liberty of screening our newest command,” Tech started, pushing his goggles up. “He is… highly successful, according to Republic records.”

The words meant nothing to Hunter, not really. He wasn’t listening anyway. He didn’t want a successful general; he wanted his general.

He stood up abruptly just as Tech was about to start a tangent. He knew each of his brothers was grieving differently—Crosshair, too— but he just couldn't listen to this. He couldn’t sit back and act as if he cared about the statistics of how great their new command was when all he wanted to do was—

“An unauthorized signal is breaking through the encryption. It's a wide-band, public frequency broadcast. Highly irregular.” Echo’s voice broke through Tech’s rambling. He had been quietly monitoring the frequencies using his cybernetic prosthetic, but his eyes held something close to sympathy for his brother. He turned in his chair to face Hunter’s back as he stood frozen in the doorway of the cockpit. “Sarge? You want me to patch it through?”

“The carrier wave is... unusual,” Tech pointed out, brows furrowing as his fingers flew over the controls. “It could be a Separatist trick. One moment…”

Jaina’s voice, trembling but utterly unmistakable, filled the cockpit. “My name is Jedi Master Jaina Sy’ko.”

The only sound that followed was Wrecker’s Lula clattered to the floor. Crosshair froze, his rifle held halfway to his shoulder. And Hunter…

All color drained from his face.

“I have been a prisoner of the Kaminoans for… for how long, I do not know. But know this, they are not our allies to the Republic… I am sending my coordinates to anyone… anyone who is willing to listen to my story and what I’ve been through from the hands of these… these double-crossing monsters… Please, the fate of the galaxy rests only on those who will act.”

The message ended. A string of coordinates flashed across Tech's screen. For a heartbeat, there was absolute silence, broken only by the hum of the ship.

Tech was the first to speak, his voice uncharacteristically strained. “Voiceprint match is 99.7 percent confirmed. It's her. The coordinates... the coordinates are for Tipoca City. Kamino.”

Wrecker's roar was pure, unrestrained joy and fury. “SHE'S ALIVE! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU!”

Hunter slammed his fist on the console, the impact rattling the entire cockpit. All this time, every moment the Batch had been stationed back home, every sleepless night of grief, she had been right there. And he didn’t sense her. 

He wasn't looking at the coordinates. He was staring into space, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Get us out of here,” he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Set a course for Kamino. Now.”

Echo looked up at him, his face more pale than usual. “Hunter, we can't just—”

“I SAID NOW!” Hunter roared, his eyes blazing with a fire they hadn't seen in a year. “Tech, get us there. Fastest possible route. I don't care what you have to do.”

The sergeant was back. The husband was screaming.

“We’re dropping out of hyperspace,” Tech announced, his voice tight. The ship lurched, and the star-streaked tunnel of hyperspace collapsed into the familiar pinpricks of a real-space starfield. Dominating their viewscreen was the stormy, blue-white marble of Kamino.

Hunter’s face was a thunderous mask. “How long until we're over Tipoca City?”

“At current velocity, factoring in atmospheric entry, seven minutes,” Tech replied. “Hunter, their long-range scanners will have already identified us. We are broadcasting a Republic transponder code, but given the nature of Jaina's message, we cannot assume we will be received as allies.”

“I don't care,” Hunter bit out. “Get us down there. Find a blind spot in their sensor grid. If you can't find one, make one.”

Crosshair stepped into the cockpit behind them, his rifle slung over his shoulder. “The ‘long-necks’ will have their own security force. Elite units. Not like the regs. They'll be expecting a rescue attempt.”

“Let them,” Wrecker's voice boomed from the hold, followed by the heavy clank of him moving into position by the ramp. “I got a special delivery for 'em!”

The Marauder lurched forward, the domes and slender spires of Tipoca City. The rain was coming down on the reinforced steel of the roof, harder than usual. Like the weather itself was another variable keeping them from her.

“Wait,” Echo called out, the screen of the tactical display lighting up. “Multiple energy blasts originating from the city structure, firing into the water.” He turned in his seat to face the rest of the squad, his expression grim. “Hunter, they’re deploying aqua-droids…”

The words sent a shock wave in the cockpit, like a death sentence. She’s in the water. They surrounded her, and she jumped.

“Get us closer, Tech,” Hunter ordered, his voice like steel. “As close as you can without risking her. Wrecker, open the ramp. Get the winch ready.”

The ramp of the Havoc Marauder slammed down, its edge slicing into the tops of the churning waves and sending a cascade of cold, salty water flooding into the hold. Wrecker, secured by a safety line, stood silhouetted against the storm, the winch mechanism in his hands. The wind and rain tore at him, a physical assault.

"I can't see anything but water!" he yelled over the howling gale.

"Her last position is directly below us!" Tech's voice crackled through his helmet comms.

Wrecker squinted against the downpour. He looked down, exactly to where Tech directed him, but he didn’t see anything at first. But then—

“There!” He roared, pointing towards a head of black hair bobbed in the sea. “I see her!”

He didn't wait for another order. He fired the winch. The magnetic clamp at the end of the cable shot out, arcing through the rain. It sailed directly towards her, a lifeline in the storm. He watched with bated breath as a pale hand, shaking from both the cold and adrenaline, grabbed the other end of the line.

“GOT HER! I GOT HER!” Wrecker's voice, a joyous and desperate roar, was nearly torn away by the wind. He leaned back, putting his entire massive frame into hauling on the winch. “PULLING HER IN!”

The instant she was clear, the ramp began to close with a hydraulic hiss. The deafening roar of the storm was sliced away, replaced by the familiar, humming quiet of the ship's interior. The silence was deafening.

“General?” Wrecker was first to break the silence, his voice unusually quiet. “Is it… is it really you?”

Echo appeared by her side in an instant, draping a thermal blanket around Jaina’s shoulders. “Hypothermia. Shock.” His voice was clipped, but his hands were gentle as he tucked the edges of the thermal blanket tighter around her trembling form, ignoring the spreading pool of cold water.

From the doorway to the hold, Crosshair watched, silent and still, his rifle held loosely at his side. He didn’t approach, but he was there, watching.

Jaina, lying in a puddle of seawater, coughed and sputtered up liquid, her body doubling over. She was shaking so badly that her teeth were chattering, the blanket doing almost nothing to heat her up from the cold of both the lab and the ocean. She looked up at the two clones hovering over her, then to the cockpit. Her eyes held no amount of emotions in them, just... pain. Pure, unadulterated agony.

“We are clear of Kamino’s gravity well,” Tech reported from the cockpit, his voice thick with relief but already shifting to damage assessment. “Calculating jump to hyperspace... Stand by.”

A metallic scrape echoed – the sound of a flight harness being unbuckled. Heavy boots hit the deck plating.

Hunter stood in the doorway. His dark gaze swept past the others, past the lingering danger signals, and locked onto the trembling, blanket-wrapped figure on the floor. His chest rose and fell once, a shuddering breath.

He took a step into the room, and then another until he was standing right above her. He knelt down beside her, his senses on overdrive as he took in her shivering form. She looked thin, too thin from the muscles that once defined her.

His hand slowly lifted, moving towards her soaked, tangled hair, but stopping midair before he could make contact. His own eyes, brimming with a raw agony that mirrored hers, held a silent, desperate question: Are you still in there? Are you still my Jaina?

Jaina didn't look up at him at first; her head hung low. Her hands clenched into tight fists, weakly drumming against the exposed, scarred skin of her thighs. His touch made her shiver. Made her gasp out loud, more in shock of feeling a gentle human touch in a year that wasn't meant to hurt her.

It took only for Hunter's finger to hook under her chin, bringing her face up to be visible, for the dam to break. Her eyes were wide, her lower lips trembling as hot, blotchy tears rolled down her cheeks. She let out a small, shuddering sob.

“What—” she could only get one word out, swallowing down hard before she forced herself to continue. “What are we going to do?”

credits: dividers from @angeliicide, @anitalenia, and @thecutestgrotto

[jimmyolsensleftsock]

𐙚 Kaminoan Secret ⋮ Chapter Three ꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing: sergeant hunter x jedi!oc tags: multi-chapter fic, clone wars era, the bad batch before omega TWs: canon-typical violence, blood

visit my website 𖹭 learn more about jaina 𖹭 oc inspired playlist

summary: Days later, Jaina, still weakened from the previous experiments, sees an opportunity to escape.

author's note: GUYS SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG!! school has been kicking my butt but hopefully i can back on track to updating this fic!! also btw i made a playlist for jaina so pls check it out hehe

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Days blend into another back on Kamino for Jaina. The aftershocks of whatever she had been administered prior had left her trembling and gasping for breath for hours on end. She had not seen Orun Wa again. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

She had learned to build walls within her own mind, using the meditation techniques taught to her since she was only a youngling. It was a constant, internal battle to maintain any shred of herself and give in to the helplessness.

He is looking for me. He will find me. Trust in him, she kept silently repeating to herself.

One evening–Jaina could tell by the patter of raindrops overhead, it always stormed harder at night–there was the familiar hiss of the hidden laboratory opening and closing. But it was different this time. Soft, more hesitant.

It wasn’t Orun Wa who entered the room. It was a young Kaminoan, his large, nervous eyes darting between the prisoner and the medical instruments that rattled with each step towards the table where she lay. He was followed by only one gray-armored guard.

This was a subtle shift in protocol. They thought that they had broken her. They did not know Jaina Sy’ko, general of Clone Force 99. They did not know the man waiting for her.

“Subject JS-01,” the Kaminoan began, his voice high-pitched and trembling slightly. “I am Ko-Sai. Orun Wa has personally assigned me to monitor your vitals. I require a blood sample. It will only take a moment.” There was an almost giddy excitement in the air. For a young scientist, the chance to work on a Force-sensitive was an honor. For her, it was a vulnerability she was ready to exploit.

He approached her and set the equipment down on the top of the control panel next to her, the guard taking position by the now closed door. His long fingers flew across the screen, and with a sharp click, the binder holding down her left wrist was undone. Ko-Sai held her arm up to the collection vial he had picked up as he swabbed an area that wasn’t criss-crossed with scars from previous collections.

There was a series of chimes from the control panel. Ko-Sai paused, the vial held up midway to her skin. “Ah, fascinating. An unexpected protein cascade.”

He set the needle down on the table and released Jaina’s arm as he leaned closer to the bright screen, his attention fully on the complex data streams. In that moment of scientific discovery, he had completely forgotten to reactivate the binder of her left wrist, leaving the needle right next to her hand.

Jaina’s breath caught in her throat. Her freed fingers twitched. She didn’t have to think about the guard positioned just feet away. If she was really going to go home, she couldn’t wait for eternity. She needed to move, now.

Without even giving it a second thought, she picked up the needle with unusually steady hands and purged it into the neck of the young Kaminoan. A choked gasp escaped him, his eyes widening in pure shock. Blood trickled down his mouth, staining his pristine, white uniform. He turned just as his body started to sway, his gaze meeting Jaina’s.

But she wasn’t really looking at him. There was no time to feel apologetic. Her left hand fumbled as she pulled free her other limbs. A sharp breath, similar to the sound Ko-Sai had just made, escaped her lips. But this gasp wasn’t one of pain or horrible understanding; it was the feeling of a life resurrected, of a bone snapping back to place.

She could feel it, the Force flowing back into her veins. After a year, she felt alive again.

At the same time, the guard at the door raised his blaster. Jaina didn’t even give him a chance, knocking his back into the wall with a simple flick of her wrist. His helmeted head hit the durasteel wall with a sickening crunch. Her connection to the Force was still frayed, but just strong enough for now.

Jaina stood up on trembling legs. She felt like a newborn learning to walk for the first time as she stumbled over to the control panel, bypassing her data on the screen to bring up the communications unit. It was something Tech had taught her once. She started to speak, the words coming in a frantic tumble of syllables.

“My name is Jedi Master Jaina Sy’ko. I have been a prisoner of the Kaminoans for–” she inhaled a shaky breath “–for how long, I do not know. But know this, they are not our allies to the Republic. They are building something. Something… big.”

She did not know who she was talking to directly–the Senate, who would call this a conspiracy plot, the Jedi who had abandoned her when she needed them most, or him.

“I am sending my coordinates to anyone… anyone who is willing to listen to my story and what I’ve been through from the hands of these… these double-crossing monsters.” Her voice broke on the last word. “Please, the fate of the galaxy rests only on those who will act.”

Her thumb shook as she pressed down to end the message. With a few clicks, the distress message, the desperate plea for help, was out there on the Republic channels.

"Containment breach detected," a cold, synthesized voice announced from hidden speakers, making her head snap up in alarm. "Bio-hazard protocols initiated. Medical bay four lockdown in progress."

And as the lab was purged into a red light, Jaina picked up the blaster from the discarded grey-armored clone. She would fight. She would come home to him.

credits: dividers from @angeliicide and @anitalenia

[jimmyolsensleftsock]

𐙚 Kaminoan Secret ⋮ Chapter Two ꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing: sergeant hunter x jedi!oc tags: multi-chapter fic, clone wars era, the bad batch before omega, clone force 99 angst TWs: none, but lmk if i missed something!

visit my website 𖹭 learn more about jaina 𖹭 oc inspired playlist

summary: After a grueling mission, the Bad Batch sit in the tense cockpit of the Marauder and are forced to finally move on from their general. Whether they want to or not, an order is an order.

author's note: hellooooo idk what to say but i loved writing this and ty to anyone who is reading this rn :))

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The cockpit of the Havoc Marauder was thick with a quiet tension no one in the squad wanted to name. It had been there for a year, replacing the usual lighthearted banter. The empty co-pilot seat in the back stood out starkly, but they refused to look at it.

Tech was hunched over in the pilot seat, his expert fingers flying over the controls as he maneuvered the squad back from a particularly gruesome mission involving a negotiation with Separatists that turned sour quickly. They made it out alive, thankfully, with Hunter’s enhanced scenes guiding their way. It still wasn’t the same; not even Wrecker got a kick out of using his precious explosives.

And after they boarded the ramp back onto their ship, each clone had the same thought roaring through their head: they could’ve used her leadership.

“Anything interesting on the scanners?” Hunter asked, breaking the silence that filled the space. He was holding a datapad in his hands, the blue light illuminating the dark, almost bruise-like bags under his eyes. He couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t really in a year.

The scanners. A set of search protocols Tech had set up that logged encrypted Republic intelligence chatter and Separatist communiques. It was like looking for a ghost in an ocean of static, utterly refusing to be found.

Before Tech could reply, Crosshair, who had been diligently cleaning his rifle in his chair, spoke up for the first time since they entered hyperspace. “It’s pointless. We saw that explosion with our own eyes. There’s no way anyone could’ve survived that, Jedi or not.”

The quiet hope starting to form on Wrecker’s face from the corner of the cockpit dimmed, and he hugged his Lula closer to his broad chest. Hunter’s jaw clenched, a snappy reply inching onto his tongue. But Tech was faster.

“It is not pointless,” he stated, pushing his goggles higher up on the bridge of his nose. He gently turned in his seat to face the rest of the squad. “It is only pointless when all variables have been exhausted. There are still… outlier frequencies to analyze.”

“Outlier frequencies?” Crosshair snorted, shaking his head. Hunter was glaring daggers at his brother, silently begging him to stop crushing the already diminishing hope in his chest. “Like what? Just because her body wasn’t recovered doesn’t mean she isn’t dead.”

Dead. The single word made Hunter hold back a shudder. He stood up abruptly, ready to get into Crosshair’s face to really give him a piece of his mind and–

“We’re being hailed,” Echo said from his chair up beside Tech, his robotic arm whirling inside the Marauder’s computers. He paused, processing the information. “The GAR is… requesting us to be assigned to a new Jedi General. We are set to meet them at the nearest attack cruiser.”

Wrecker’s face completely fell, looking down at his Lula in his large arms. Tech did not offer any of his usual statistics. Crosshair’s eyes tightened; even he wasn’t completely heartless.

And, Hunter…

He didn’t look at his squad, his brothers. His gaze was fixed on the blue stars whizzing past through the viewport. He knew, logically, that his hope meant nothing now. The Separatists didn’t take Jedi prisoners for long. If she were alive, she would’ve tried to contact them. Contact him. 

The Republic had moved on, and they expected him to as well.

credits: dividers from @angeliicide and @anitalenia

[jimmyolsensleftsock]

𐙚 Kaminoan Secret ⋮ Chapter One ꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing: sergeant hunter x jedi!oc tags: multi-chapter fic, clone wars era, the bad batch before omega, kaminoans being corrupt (palpatine when i catch you palpatine...), forbidden/secret marriage, protective!hunter TWs: medical torture/experiments

visit my website 𖹭 learn more about jaina 𖹭 oc inspired playlist

summary: Jedi Master Jaina Sy'ko has been presumed dead for almost an entire year now after a grueling mission with her squad. The galaxy, and the Republic, have moved on, adding her name to the growing list of casualties. But not Clone Force 99—they've never truly forgotten their general. Especially Hunter. Why? Because she was his wife.

author's note: This is my first ever fic I hope you guys like it!!!!! :) Lmk how I did cuz lowkey... I'm also new to tumblr too lol. For this chapter, I just wanted to establish the current condition with Jaina and her backstory. Don't worry, Hunter and the others will be included in the next chapter! :3

[next chapter]

Cold. It was always so cold. The chill was everywhere–in the Force dampening cuffs attached to her wrists, in the fabric of the gray prison tunic she was given when she had first arrived, in the table pressing into her back. It was in the air.

Jaina Sy’ko awoke slowly, her eyes fluttering open. There was no panic in her gaze, not since the weeks and months had turned into a year. No, she was deadly calm, like her Jedi Master had taught her. That life felt like it belonged to a different person now. This was her reality now–being poked and prodded. She was merely an experiment. A thing to be used and discarded.

A year. An entire standard year. Though her memory was starting to get fuzzy, she could never forget her final moments of freedom.

She couldn’t remember the planet’s name, but she remembered the rolling hills, the lush forests. For being her final mission, it sure was beautiful. It was an infiltration, a simple smash and grab. Clone Force 99 had plenty of missions like that in the past; this one shouldn’t have been any different.

And she remembered him.

“You alright?” She remembered him asking softly as the squad descended from the ramp of the Marauder, that look of concern–the secret furrowing of his brows just for her–on his face. It wasn’t the voice of a sergeant talking to his general; it was just a man checking in on his woman.

“Fine,” she had replied, her voice just as low as she watched the Batch’s usual bickering a few feet away. The pair was at the edge of the group now, creating an illusion of privacy. “Just… there’s something strange in the air.” There was something in the air; she had sensed it, sensed the trap before it even happened.

“I feel it too,” Hunter had said. He may not have the Force, but he still had his enchanted senses. He was telling her that she wasn’t crazy, that whatever she was feeling was real. He fell into step with her as he slipped on his red and black helmet, his hand reaching out for the briefest touch against the small of her back, to reassure himself that she was still real. “Stay close,” he had murmured into her ear.

And she tried to. She really did. But the droid reinforcements came too quickly, and she found herself separated from her own squad.

The explosion had been blinding, the sound of it deafening as she had fallen to the ground. But, it couldn’t cover up Tech’s gasp, Wrecker’s war cry on the remaining Separatist forces, and it especially couldn’t hide Hunter’s horrified scream. She had never heard him, in the years that they had served together, sound like that. And she would never, never ever forget.

And then, she was brought here.

The sound of footsteps–multiple, at least three–reached her ears over the constant drumming of rain outside.

The Kaminoan scientist, Orun Wa, was the name that she had learned over time, entered the space, accompanied by two clones. These guards were nothing like the clones Jaina had served with; they were more like the droids they were fighting than men. Their steps were steady as each took position on either side of her, their DC-17 blasters at the ready.

“The last batch of tests had failed,” Orun Wa started, getting straight into business. Maybe I should be lucky he’s telling me anything about what they’re doing to me at all, Jaina thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut. For now. “The Force-sensitivity did not transfer. Your biological structure is remarkably resilient. It actively fights the replication process. A fascinating, if inconvenient, trait of your kind.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “The Chancellor grows impatient. He does not appreciate failure.”

The scientists walked over towards a cart of medical instruments and devices, picking up a hypospray with a musky-green liquid swirling inside. It was the same color as the trees of the last planet Jaina was ever free on. “We must try again. I have produced a more… aggressive approach to isolating the necessary genetic markers. This compound will break down your body's natural cellular defenses.” He turned then, his large, black eyes meeting hers. “There may be some discomfort. I do apologize.”

He wasn’t sorry. Not when he took a closer step towards hers, ignoring the desperate, human instinct Jaina’s body made when she got a good look at what he was going to put into her body. Her eyes, wide with terror that couldn’t be described, flickered to the soldiers on each of her sides. They were so different from the clones she had fought with. So different from him.

“How can you do this?” She whispered to them alone, her voice raspy from disuse. She had to try. “I served with your brothers. Don’t you remember? Good soldiers follow orders, but this… this… is wrong! Can’t you see that?”

Orun Wa paused in his movements, his head tilting as he held the hypospray between his long fingers. “These clones,” he gestures to the helmeted clones, who wouldn’t even look in Jaina’s direction, “are not the soldiers you fought with. They have no ‘brothers’, they have no names or no morals. They are security assets, programmed for the sole purpose of compliance.”

He gave a small, subtle nod. Now.

The guard on her right moved, his gloved hand wrapping around her forearm with a strength that made Jaina hiss in pain. His finger dug into her flesh, leaving angry red marks. At the same time, Orun Wa seemed to glide the last few feet between him and the operating table, positioning the nozzle of the device over a patch of a small, rare patch of her pale skin that was relatively unmarked from previous injections.

There was a sharp, violent hiss, the only warning for the pain she was about to experience.

The chills she had been experiencing died down in an instant, replaced by a chemical fire. It wasn’t a clean burning sensation, but an invasive heat that spread through her veins from the point of impact. It felt agonizingly alive, her cells–her very being–being attacked.

Jaina let out a choked scream, her back arching off the table as her limbs jerked against the restraints. She squeezed her eyes, as if to physically block out the pain. It didn’t work. Her thoughts, once a jumbled mess from the previous sedatives, now had a clear focus:

Hunter. Find me.

credits: dividers from @angeliicide, @anitalenia, and @thecutestgrotto