Approximately how many times do you think Hunter has ducked inside Crosshair's guard and smacked him, kicked him in the balls, etc. to try to convince him that the world's longest rifle is a shitty close range weapon
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The oppressive chill of Kamino had been replaced by a gentle, regulated warmth that seeped through the soft, woven blankets.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
