Wassap!

Hi! DinoGoofy is my main/MK blog

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader I finally changed my theme and fixed this side blog enough to start posting this, and I hope y'all enjoy! This fic is a slowburn with eventual smut, so be aware of that while reading. The TWs for this fic will change chapter to chapter, and will be labeled as such.

You shouldn't be here.

A nat-born medic, contracted to clone force 99? It shouldn't be possible- it's not possible.

But here you were anyway.

Hunter doesn't trust you. None of them do. You're not even sure if they should. But there are no choices in this war, just paths that have been predetermined for you. Your past is chasing you, and they're unknowingly helping you run from it.

You really hope Hunter will forgive you when it finally catches up.

----

“What is it, Tech?" Hunter's tone is low, worried. You were just a medic- but you were theirs. He had a feeling you had been hiding something; he knew it from the day you met. Your nervous ticks, your elevated heart rate. Everyone in the war had something to hide, but he was tired of waiting for you to tell him.

"Well," Tech hums, frowning. He looks up at Hunter. "There's nothing here. It's completely empty- according to this, she doesn't even exist." Tech hesitates before continuing.

"And?" Hunter nudges.

"It's purposeful. Her file isn't just blank- It's been redacted.”

Ch 1: Work for it.

Tws: minor injuries, Hunter and the others are slightly OOC, and pretty mean. Pre-echo bad batch era.

Ch 2: Roger

Tws: minor injuries. Shootouts, minor character death, and large crowds.

Ch 3: Rest and Repair | (part 2)

Tws: Fistfights, sexual innuendos, and derogatory comments. Once again, minor injuries.

Ch 4: That's not Blackjack.

Tws: Horror. Body-snatcher shit, explosions, reader is used as bait, living planet entity, and minor injuries. Possible medical inaccuracies, I tried my best i'm sorry lol.

Ch 5: Head Trauma

Tws: Reader gets banged up a lot in this one. Violence, death, strangulation, Seizures, spider thingies, panic attacks, and the like. Once again, plot holes and random bullshit galore, but I'm having fun so I don't care lol.

Ch 6: Juyo (Coming soon)

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Sorry for being inactive guys, AO3 curse got me. aNYWAYSSSSS. Im slowly coming out of hiatus, and I want to know yalls thoughts!!!

Which fic do you want first?

Redacted, CH6: Juyo (Hunter/reader)

Movie night (Fives/Reader/Echo NSFW)

Voting ended onMay 21

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Tell me what it is you want.

Maul/Fem!AFAB!Reader- NSFW Maul stumbles into your shop in need of some simple repairs, and you find yourself admitting to him some secrets that you've kept for a long time. You know he's searching for a family, and maybe you'll be able to convince him that you were the one who could give that to him. TWs: PnV sex. Explicit content. Breeding kink. Heavy petting, creampie, and soft dom maul. No spoilers for Maul - shadow lord.

I'm supposed to be working on my Hunter fic rn but I had this idea and could not shake it for the life of me. The new show has got me in a chokehold AUGH.

Every day on Janix is a busy one, and it’s something you’ve been used to for a while now. 

You don’t have the space to fix starships anymore, not in the way you used to, but you don’t mind all that much. The new shop can hold about 5 speeders at a time, and countless droids of all types. Customers come and go, and so do jobs, but there are few unaffiliated mechanics on this planet who are willing to overlook illegal modifications, and even fewer who are willing to install them. So, you stay busy. 

You can hear the doors of the front room open, the noise making you slightly ticked. Seems that some people don’t understand how to read a “closed” sign. Or they simply choose not to. Either way, you’re starting to wish you had remembered to lock the door when you put the sign out.

“If you’re here for a job, I don’t have time for it. Get out.” You call out, bluntly. Your hands are currently elbow deep in the undercarriage of a speeder, and you can’t see who comes in the half-open door to the garage. You don’t need to. His presence causes the hair on the back of your neck to stand up, a prickle in the back of your mind. You roll out from underneath the speeder, wiping your hands on a rag.

“Really? I suppose I’ll be leaving then.” Maul says, voice set in a monotone, what anyone else would mistake as malice. You can’t help but smile, your view of him blocked as you’re rushed by a small droid.

“Hey! There's my little monster.” You say. The spybot lets out an evil laugh, brushing up against your hand when you hold it out for him, lavishing in the attention before Maul clears his throat. The droid pulls away then, not stopping to say goodbye as he suddenly leaves, right out the door they just came in through. 

You’re hoping that Maul’s simply come to see you, but when you see him fully, standing just beyond the doorway, the first thing you notice is the limp in his step. Your face drops immediately, and you let out a sigh. Maul says nothing, but you can see his eyes shift. Looks like he’s had a rough day.

“You know, I could have sworn I taught Icarus how to fix this for you half a cycle ago.” You mumble. You’ve got Maul sat on your desk, legs hanging over the side as you sit in your chair. You have his leg joints pulled open, currently soldering bits and pieces back together.

“You did.” Maul rumbles. You raise your eyebrows at that. So maybe he did come to see you, after all. The soldering iron sparks, causing him to wince in pain. You apologise quietly, bringing your focus back to his legs. You’ve built his prosthetics from the ground up before, but small fixes like this are easier for him to do himself. You haven’t seen him for something so small in a long time.

“So why the visit, then? Just looking for a bit of company?” You muse. Once you’ve finished soldering, you set your tools to the side, letting his leg cool off for a bit before you close it up. 

“You could say that,” Maul replies, frowning ever so slightly. You smile at him, shaking your head as you stand between his legs. Your hands are grazing that seam between the skin of his thighs and the metal of his legs, feeling along the edge for any burrs or splintered metal. It’s a standard check-up. And somehow, it still feels intimate between you two. It always has been. 

“ ‘This have to do with the girl you were telling me about?” You ask, glancing at him through your eyelashes. He lets out a big sigh, and you know you’ve hit the target head-on. He scowls, but there’s no bite behind it. 

“She’s frustrating.” Mal rumbles. You let out a small laugh, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. 

“She’s a teenager.” You say, shaking your head at him. For a moment, you wonder what Maul was like as a teenager. Darth Maul. Lord of shadows. Not that he wasn’t already edgy enough. 

“Is that supposed to change anything?” Maul asks bluntly, raising an eyebrow at your small giggle. 

“Maybe not.” You chime, “But it’s still something you should think about before you go trying to take her under your wing.” Maul lets out a long sigh, and you step back from him, satisfied with his repairs and the current state of his prosthetics. You stop for a moment to look him over, head to toe. He’s looking better lately. Stronger. More well-fed. You’re thankful for it. You remember the first time he happened upon your shop. Back when you could afford a bigger space. 

You were working for Deemis, then. Enslaved to him, more like. Maul had stumbled into your shop in the middle of the night, his prosthetics wrecked. He had threatened to kill you if you didn’t comply and fix him up. So, you did. You weren’t scared. Weren’t angry. You were intimidated, sure. But you didn’t have much left to lose. He didn’t either. 

When he took power from Deemis and Vario, he took you, as well. When he was betrayed, you followed him into hiding. Bought a new shop. Settled on neutral territory. 

Strange. How the two of you came together. Even stranger, how you both stayed. 

You look at him, now. His eyes. His cherry red skin. His anger. Sadness. Pain. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than his side, and he knew that. 

Tonight, he looks tired. Frustrated. 

“...I grow tired of this constant search.” Maul begins. You don’t have to ask him to stand when you’re ready to do your final check. He does so on habit, taking a few calculated steps towards you as you mentally time and observe his movements.

“These… padawans, these apprentices. They refuse to see reason. Refuse to see the errors in the ways of the Jedi. Their blind loyalty sickens me.” Maul says, his frustration evident in his voice. You know he’s talking about this literally, but you also know him. You can feel that he’s projecting, and that his history, his belief in the Sith, his training with Darth Sidious, it all still bothers him. He’s upset at both the light and dark sides of the force, and he’s tired of screaming into the void about it. 

But if he’s so tired, why doesn’t he rest? Why won’t he allow himself to? Why won’t he see beyond this timeline in his mind and put himself first, instead of his grand plan? 

“Speak.” At Maul’s word, you realise that you’ve been deep in thought for a little too long. He’s much closer now, hardly a foot away when your eyes finally snap up to meet his own. He looks as serious as ever, the darkness in his eyes a constant reminder of his past. You don’t flinch as his hand raises to your face, but you certainly don't expect it when his thumb lands between your pinched brows, smoothing the skin upwards like he’s trying to erase the look from your face. It’s unintentionally silly, and you catch yourself smiling a little. 

“I can see that you have something to say.” Maul repeats, returning his hand to his side. You let out a small sigh, trying to let out your worries before speaking your truth. 

“I’m not going to tell you to stop looking for revenge.” You start, the words coming out heavy after having thought them over for so long. “...But Maul, you yourself have admitted that the way these Jedi have been taught to see you has hindered your progress. Maybe it’s time to take a step back and work on changing that first.” You finish. Maul seems taken aback by the words, clearly not expecting that from you. You see a flash of anger building up inside of him, before he seems to wash it away, letting it go without ever taking his attention off of you. 

“You are one of the very few people whom I will allow to speak to me like this,” Maul growls out, closing the gap between the two of you just a bit more as his hand comes up to caress the side of your face. His nose is just close enough to brush against your own, but he doesn’t kiss you. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You muse. He likes that you speak your mind around him. You know he does. He never argues with you when you do. Hell, you knew for sure that he’s killed people for talking to him the way that you have. The thought is more attractive to you than it really should be. You lean into his touch, holding his hand to your cheek as you turn your head to the side, pressing a chaste kiss into the calloused skin of his palm. 

“I just think… it might be time for you to think about what happens after Sidous. You know?” You say quietly, knowing that you most certainly were pushing the topic. 

“After, Sidous?” Maul asks, a slight edge returning to his voice. You don’t meet his gaze, not yet. 

“You’ve spent your whole life in anger. In pain. You’re chasing down those who’ve wronged you, but what will you do when you succeed? What comes after?” You’re absentmindedly rubbing your thumb across his knuckles, feeling as the air starts to thicken with tension. You don't bring yourself to look at him yet. Maul doesn’t say a word. You feel like you’re making a mistake by laying all out on the table like this, but you just keep talking. Rolling along through your thoughts as you finally tell him the things you had spent years thinking about in secret. 

“Will there come a time when your revenge is enough? I mean, what about settling down? Finding a place to stay. Students to teach who will listen. A home, a family-” 

“A Family?” Maul stops you. There's a moment of silence as your stomach falls. Shit. You didn’t mean to say that. 

“I, well, yes. I- uh…” You stutter out, still refusing to meet his gaze. It was only a matter of time before he knew. Before you chose to ask him. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before building the courage to finally look at him. His face is unreadable, masked by that same seriousness he always seems to carry.

“I’m… I’m getting older, Maul. You are too.” You say, truthfully. It feels good to say, like you’re letting a weight off of your chest.

“You want a child?” Maul asks, brows furrowing. You pause for a small moment, biting your lip in your nervousness. 

“With you. Yes,” You admit. Maul is silent. He says nothing. He shows nothing. You can’t bear to keep looking at him, so you pull away from his hold.

“Forget it, if that’s not what you want,” You mumble, turning away from him. You don’t make it far before he catches you by your wrist, his grip like a steel chain. 

“Love.” He calls out to you, a softness to his voice that you don’t hear often. “If this is something you’re sure about…”

“More than anything,” You reply, without a second doubt. Maul pulls you back towards him, ever so slightly. Maul is unreadable to many, but you can see his conflicted thoughts. You know he’s hesitant when it comes to attachments. Everything he knows pushes against them. And yet, he’s been looking for companionship for a long time. Looking for some kind of family, for trust and loyalty. You want him to find that in you. With you. 

“Then, who am I to deny your needs?” Maul says, quietly. He doesn’t reach out to you when he says it, or pull you into his arms. He’s just standing there, hand on your wrist. The words surprise you, hell, they fluster you in a way you weren't expecting. 

“I- uhm…” You’re unable to form a reply, face quickly becoming heated as you blush. Maul raises an eyebrow at you. 

“What? You said you want something from me. I’m telling you to take it.” He states, bluntly. 

“Don’t word it like that!” You scold, unused to the feeling of being so flustered. 

“And why not?” Maul asks you, and for once, you’re absolutely speechless. A cocky smile begins to creep across his face at the sight. He begins to crowd you backwards, and you take careful steps to keep up with his movements.

“Don’t hesitate now, dear. You’ve already come out with the truth.” Maul purrs, his amusement evident in his tone. You spent so much time afraid to look him in the eye, and now you can’t seem to look away. Your back hits one of the speeders in your shop, leaving you with nowhere left to go. You bite your lip nervously as Maul chuckles, trapping you in with his arms. One hand comes up to take hold of your chin, his thumb pulling your bottom lip free from your teeth, slowly brushing against the swell of it. 

“...I think I rather prefer you this shy.” Maul rumbles, leaning in close. His forehead touches your own, his breath soft against your face. Your eyes flutter closed in anticipation, eagerly waiting for the press of his lips. But it never comes. You open your eyes, and Maul is just looking at you, that same cocky look on his face.

“...what are you…?” You ask, voice lower than a whisper. 

“I gave you an order, dearest,” Maul says, so close that he’s simply teasing you at this point. 

“If you want something. Take it.” His hand trails to the back of your skull, lingering. You huff at his words. If that’s what he wanted, that’s what he would get. 

You surge forward, catching his lips a little violently. Maul reacts immediately, pulling you into him so eagerly that it’s a wonder he got you to break before he did. He’s always run hot, but his skin is practically burning your own as your hands slip underneath his robes. You caress the familiar contours of his body, trailing down to his lower abdomen, thumbing his waistband teasingly before sliding back up to his collarbone. His robes open easily, practically falling off of him as you push them off his shoulders. 

Maul growls against your lips, pushing you further against the speeder as his hands drift down to the base of your shirt, not to be outdone. You let out a soft sigh at the touch, his hands trailing up till they're just below your breasts, before trailing back down again. He pulls away from the kiss, and you can’t help but chase after his lips. He chuckles at the action, but he doesn't return to the kiss. Instead, he kisses your jawline, trailing down to your neck. You move your head over to the side to give him more room.

“You’re being awfully giving right now.” You mumble, looking for a reaction from him. He leaves a sharp bite on your neck in response, causing you to gasp, a grin spreading across your face. 

“Am I?” He asks, nails trailing across the skin of your lower back. “I hadn’t realised.” Maul’s hands trail up your back, and he rips the fabric of your bra strap in one easy movement. You gasp at the action, before he’s pulling off your shirt and the remnants of the fabric in one go. His kisses move down your chest as you fumble with his belt, finally managing to pull the damn thing off of him as his hand moves up, taking one breast in his hold. He caresses you, uncharacteristically softly, nipping and sucking on the fragile skin. 

You moan, ever so softly, and the noise has him practically growling. He lets go of your breast, catching you in another strong kiss. Your teeth clink together with his, his teeth biting into your lip as he encourages you to open your mouth for him. 

“I am going to kiss you again.” He rumbles, pulling away from you ever so slightly. “-and by the time I’m satisfied, I want these off.” One of his hands slips between your waistband and the skin of your lower back, and you shiver from the heat of him. He’s never once been satisfied when it comes to you, but you humor him anyway as his lips press against your own. Your belt, simple compared to his own, comes off quickly and easily. You don't bother going layer by layer, knowing full well a strip tease only ends with you having to buy more clothing. You drop both your pants and your underwear all in one go. Maul lets out a satisfied hum when he finally pulls back from you.

“Good girl.” He practically purrs, helping you step out of them. His hands trail down, one sliding around to the small of your back, while the other slides further south. You gasp, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as his fingers find your clit, pressing against it lightly. You try not to clench your thighs, realising that you’ve been without him longer than you had realised. You’re overly sensitive, and he loves it. You hear him let out another low chuckle as his fingers dip further, embarrassingly wet noises coming from you as he teases your slit. His fingers are so, so close to being inside of you, his fingertips catching on your entrance just slightly before he pulls away again.

“Don’t tease.” You scold, a little breathless.

“I’m not teasing. I’m simply awaiting instruction.” Maul replies, entirely too amused for a man who’s hard as rock against you. You huff at him, pulling away from the crook of his neck, but he pulls away from you when you try to kiss him again. You pout at the sight of his smile, your face twisting as his fingers begin to slowly take the plunge. You can help but let out a whimper as they work through your dripping core, reaching deep, deep inside of you before they scissor, stretching you open, bit by bit. 

“Tell me what you want,” Maul says. You feel a little embarrassed at the thought of what he’s asking. What were you supposed to say? Please put your cock in me? That would be entirely mortifying. 

Still, you look at him. The small spark in his eyes that you don’t see that often. You think of his skin against yours, and there truly is only one thing you want above all else. 

“You.” You let out, less than a whisper. 

“Charming, but not an answer.” Maul hums, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“That is my answer. I want you.” You repeat. Maul seems to stop for a moment. His eyebrows furrow. You knew this look. He’s looking within you. Searching for something. Truth, maybe.

 “...Just you.” You repeat. His breath catches, and he curses. The next few moments are a blur. Maul expertly

knocks your knees out from under you, catching you before you fall too far,  and laying you down onto the concrete floor. It’s not the most comfortable place he’s taken you, but you’d be a fool to turn him away now. Not when you are both so close to getting exactly what you want. 

You barely get his pants pulled down before he’s on you, pulling open your thighs as he takes his hard cock in his hands, sliding it between your wet folds. He curses at the sudden sensation, the head of his cock catching against your clit every time. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, but fuck did it feel good. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t this a little soon?” You ask, biting your lip.  “I’ve barely been able to touch you. You don’t want me to-” Maul cuts you off in a kiss, muffling your sounds against him. 

“I thought you wanted me to give you a child?” Maul asks. He pulls back a little too far, the head of his cock catching on your slit for just a moment, before he continues to tease you by sliding it through your dripping folds. His hands slowly move up your body, stopping to caress your breasts for just a moment before they slide down your shoulders, his hands lacing with your own as he uses them to pull you even closer to his kneeling form. 

“You’d rather me waste my seed on your hands?” He asks, unlacing your fingers and rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hands, before they move again, grabbing hold of your legs.

 “Your thighs?” Maul asks you, firmly grasping the soft, squishy flesh before he pushes them up to his shoulders. He presses your thighs together, sliding his cock between the slick skin with a groan of pleasure. 

“Why, My love, would I do that?” He asks, “-when I can put it right where you want it?” Maul thrusts forward, suddenly, hitting home in just one singular movement. You let out a shocked moan, adjusting to the delicious stretch of his cock that you know so well. 

“Fuck.”  The curse falls from your mouth, and Maul lets out a dark chuckle at the sound. He gives you a small moment of reprieve, but slowly begins to pull out, his skin pressing against your inner walls so perfectly you want to cry. He thrusts into you again, deep and sturdy, but not rough. If there was one thing that Maul was good at during sex, it was consistency. His fingers dig into your thighs, his face scrunched in pleasure as he lets out deep, low moans. Every thrust inside of you is even, reaching deep inside of you. Hard enough to make your hands curl against the concrete, desperate for something to hold onto. 

The whines you’re letting out are embarrassing and outright lewd. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours echo throughout the shop, bouncing off the walls. Hell, your head smacks the concrete eventually, the impact is an instant flash of pain throughout the incredible pleasure. 

Maul notices the action immediately, and he’s quick to drop your thighs, letting them fall to the side as he continues his thrusts. He snakes a hand underneath your head, protecting you from the harshness of the concrete.  His other arm keeps him propped up as he kisses you deeply, his tongue finding its way inside of your mouth. His hips shift with the new position, rolling into you just right- hitting the perfect spot inside of you that only he has ever seemed to find. 

You know he’s close when his steady thrusts begin to stutter. A line of split connects your mouths when he finally pulls away from the kiss, forehead resting against your own as he works through the building pleasure. He adjusts his hand, pulling you forward just a bit so that he can move his strong arm underneath your head to keep himself steady without having to compromise your comfort. His now free hand then goes south, rubbing firm circles into your clit in the way he knows drives you crazy. 

The pleasure inside of you is quickly hitting its peak, but Maul is a step ahead of you. His orgasm comes with desperate thrusts, a rough growl releasing from his throat as thick ropes of cum flood your cunt in warm spurts. You’re so, so close, and Maul just keeps going. His thrusts return to that steady pace, fighting against his own overstimulation to give you the release you so deserve. The pressure on your clit and his continuous assault on your G-spot are quick to finally do you in, your thighs clenching and wrapping around him as you hit your peak. Your hips twitch and thrust up to meet his slowing pace, a whimper working its way out of your throat as he leads you through your orgasm. Maul curses at the squeezing, fluttering feeling as you cum on his cock, and you swear you feel him cum a second time as his hips finally stop.

The two of you lay there for a moment, breathing heavily. Maul’s head falls to the crook of your neck, careful of his horns as he presses absent-minded kisses to your skin. 

He doesn’t let you rest on the hard floor for long. Maul rolls onto his side before grabbing hold of your arms. He maneuvers you easily, pressing your back into his chest as he brings you both to a seated position. You feel boneless, letting him move you however he wants, as long as he is still pressed against your skin.

“Did you get what you were hoping for, dearest?” Maul hums. You laugh through heavy breaths, leaning your head back against him.

“It’s going to take a few weeks before we know that, my love.” You reply to him. You slowly realise that one of his hands has woven around your stomach, reaching down to your cunt. You whimper against him as the tips of his fingers drag upwards, collecting the cum that was slowly leaking out of you. He pushes the sticky substance back into you, fingering your sensitive cunt carefully as he plunges it as far as it can go.

“Well then, you shouldn’t be wasting a single drop. Of course, I won’t be opposed to trying again."

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Ch 5: Head trauma

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader - Slow burn, eventual smut. I DID IT HELL YEAH!! Two weeks late, but it's here! (Technically two and a half, for Tumblr ;-; I forgot to post it here) This chapter ended up being much more lore-heavy than I had ever expected it to be, so I hope you guys find that the wait was worth it! Hold on to your seats for this one, kids, it's got a lot of stuff that you're gonna want to know ;) TWS: Reader gets banged up a lot in this one. Violence, death, strangulation, Seizures, spider thingies, panic attacks, and the like. Once again, plot holes and random bullshit galore, but I'm having fun so I don't care lol.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter (Coming soon)

Turns out, if a random woman showed up to the cave you were hiding in, covered in blood and limping like the living dead, you’d probably raise your blaster at her, too. 

You must have hit your head harder than you originally thought. Your face had been wet, sure. But you didn’t realise that it was wet from blood. Hell, your ankle hurt way worse than whatever head wound had been afflicted upon you.

Once General Tarja told her troopers to stand down, they immediately did so without question. You felt like you were in shock, questioning if you really had died and just joined all of them in the afterlife. But your ankle still hurts like a bitch, and a headache is starting to set in, so you’re assuming you can't be dead just yet. 

Things are a blur. Tarja had led you to a rock, asking you to sit down. Someone hands you water, another a rag that you weren’t sure what to do with. It’s not until a trooper with a red medic mark on his shoulder bell kneels next to you, taking the rag and beginning to wipe off your face, you realise what it was for. The rag comes back stained a deep, deep red. That is when you realise you had been bleeding. It feels like deja vu as he begins to ask you the standard head injury questions, and all you can think about is how you were asking Wrecker those very same ones earlier in the day. 

“I think I may have a concussion.” You state. The medic, helmetless, only frowns. 

“You definitely have a concussion.” The trooper says. 

“That would be an understatement.” Tarja says at the same time, grinning. She sits down on the other side of you. The medic shakes his head at her, going back to cleaning your face. 

“They must have been really worried about you, you know. They’re normally a lot more careful with rescues.” General Tarja says offhandedly. You try not to move your head too fast, for both your sake and the medic’s, but you’re more than a little confused as you glance her way.

“They?”

“The vines.” She clarifies, motioning upwards. You glance up, carefully, only to flinch back at the sight of a long green vine hanging above your head. The general sets a hand at your back, keeping you from falling backwards in your less than aware state. The vine above you moves slowly, something in its grasp. Once it sets the item at your feet, you realise that it’s the flamethrower that Tech had given you. The vine begins to retract, carefully. It slides a gentle tendril over your head, taking a stick out of your hair. You watch it as it slowly raises back to the ceiling, and you realise that it’s not the only one here. Multitudes of tendrils and vines and flora are hanging down, moving, grabbing things, even interacting with some of the clone troopers. They lead back to a star-shaped bundle of foliage at the ceiling of the cave. It pulses, littered with glowing flowers and moving parts. You have no idea what you are looking at.

“You might want to give her context, General.” The medic scoffs. You were inclined to agree with him.

General Tarja knows who you are, which doesn’t surprise you. What did surprise you, was finding out that the pulsing tangle of leaves above you wasn’t actually trying to kill or eat you. It was trying to rescue you.

General Tarja and her troopers touched down on this planet to fight a separatist attempt at stripping the planet for resources, which you already knew. According to Tarja, they had been holding their own for a while, until a sickness struck the camp. At first it was just the Commander that was affected, Blackjack collapsing during his turn on watch one night. Then he was followed by Soot, and then Rummy respectively. After the three had fallen ill, it wasn’t long before the troopers that had been closest to the three were being snatched away, starting with their medic. The droid presence on the planet then became much harder to manage with so many of them missing, which is when the General sent out their SOS. 

“You’re Sonso, then?” You speak up. The medic next to you nods, a little surprised. He finishes bandaging your head, and you almost feel guilty for wasting some of their supplies, given that they had been down here for so long. Sonso looks rougher than some of the other clones you see in here. He’s paler, with bags under his eyes. You get the feeling that he hasn’t been sleeping well. Not many medics do, you think. 

“We were all fighting them off, at first.” The general picks back up, frowning. “Myself included.”

“I don’t understand. What are they protecting us from?” You ask. 

“Ourselves.” She responds. You give her a confused look, but Sonso is quick to clear his throat. 

“It’s not as simple as the General is making it seem.” He says. He roots through the bag at his side, pulling out a holopad. He types away at it, taking a second to pull something up before handing it over to you. You squint at the light. There’s a creature pictured on the screen. It’s almost spiderlike in appearance, with an extremely small body compared to its eight long, spindly legs. You’re struggling slightly to read the words on the screen, the digits blurring together. 

“Before the Commander had gotten infected, we had been ransacking the separatist base on this planet. Blackjack and I were able to hack into the database on site, and came across this. Our original intel was that the site was being stripmined, but we were wrong. The whole reason the separatists showed up on this planet was because they were testing local life for their use as bioweapons.” Sonso sounds tired. You can tell he is. Whether that was from exhaustion or self-doubt, you didn’t know.

“The commander was the only other person to see the file. But then he got sick, and I was dragged down here soon after. We tried to report it, but we were too slow.” He swallows. “We should have been much more cautious. I should have been more cautious.”

When you can manage to make sense of the words on the screen, the first thing that you can make out across the top is ‘PARASITE’. Fun. The creature pictured is described as a force-sensative species. It crawls through the nose and attaches to the brain and nervous system, taking on the memories of the host. Alarm bells keep going off the more you read into it. These parasites have one known goal, which was what the separatists were testing. They seek out other force sensitives to destroy them. It’s like your blood runs cold. 

“The flora in this cave is the soul of this planet. It’s just as force sensitive as the parasites are.” General Tarja states, looking upwards. “When I was taken in here, I connected to it. It spoke to me. It’s been able to contain these parasites for years, knowing the effect that they would have on the galaxy if they escaped.”

“Until the Separatist landed.” You say. She nods. 

“This cave is the Heart of this planet. That’s why we were taken here. The pollen that the flora produces in this cave is poison to the parasites, which is why it’s been able to survive for so long.” The heart of this planet. This thing that you had been sent to destroy, and it had willingly let you into its most vulnerable area to save you from-

“I- hold on. Are you saying that Blackjack..?” You begin to ask. Sonso looks frustrated, and you feel that he’s angry with himself. He looks at Tarja, who frowns, nodding.

“We’ve only confirmed two soldiers. Blackjack and Soot. Rummy had fallen ill after I had been taken away, but the latest soldiers to end up here have reports of his illness that match the first two.” She finishes. The upwind tent made sense then. All of this made sense, now that you know. The odd feeling of dread when you first landed here. That chill that curled up your spine when Rummy had looked at you. Blackjack’s incessant commands that you of all people had to put your life at risk. It wasn’t that you were the latest target, or that you were the easiest to track, it was that he was hoping you would die before you even made it to the cave. And now he was using your team to track you into the one area he couldn’t reach, and destroy the one thing they’ve been trying to get rid of since the very beginning. 

Your stomach sinks at the thought.

“Oh no.” You whisper. “No, no no.” 

“Don’t panic.” General Tarja begins, assuming that you were panicking over the situation as a whole. “We’ve been working on a plan on how to take care of the parasites with as few casualties as possible. I can assure you that everything will be fine. We just need a bit more time to figure out the logistics.” She says. Sonso watches, face a look of concern as you begin to panic in front of them. The batch wasn’t dumb. Nor were they ones to blindly follow orders, but if they needed to get something done, they would. And if they thought you were in danger, there was no guarantee that they would listen to you, or that anyone would be able to get the remaining battalion soldiers to back down if they managed to break inside. 

“These parasites are few and far between, and Blackjack hasn’t been able to track down the heart yet. Please, there is nothing to worry about.” Tarja speaks up again, setting a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you. You swallow, looking up at her, pale as a ghost.

“Your team put a tracker on you, didn’t they?” Sonso asks, then. Smoothly. Coldly. You look at him. You nod.

The atmosphere shifts. Soldiers around you suddenly get very tense, Sonso included. Some begin to whisper- everyone looking at the General. Tarja is considerably less tense than the others, but her brow is furrowed.  She says nothing, bringing a hand up to her chin. You can see the thoughts racing through her mind as she plans her next move. 

There’s a loud noise. The cave begins to rumble and shake, the heart above you letting out that same heart-dropping shriek from before as it retracts most of its exterior limbs, the writhing vines curling over the center defensively. General Tarja stands, looking up at the heart with a serious look on her face. Everyone is at attention. 

“Did they just breach the entrance?” She asks aloud. If she gets a response, you cannot hear it. You stand up as well as the rumbling stops, wincing at the soreness of your ankle. Sonso is by your side.

“Let’s hope your squad isn’t as trigger happy as we hear they are.” He says. You press your lips into a thin line. You hope so, too. 

Hunter has no time to brace before the undead commander lunges at him, tackling him to the ground. He throws a forearm up, placing it between the body of Blackjack and himself. Blackjack writhes and squirms, snapping his jaw and grabbing at Hunter’s helmet as his unsettling gurgle forms into inhuman words.

“You are going to help us DESTROY THAT CAVE. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!”  He screeches. Hunter tries to shove him off with no success, before Buck grabs hold of the back of Blackjack’s armor, hauling him off of Hunter. Buck pushes the commander back. Hunter doesn't have to think before he gets himself up to a stand and his blaster is out, shooting bolt after bolt into Blackjack's body. Blastershots ring out from behind them, where Tech, Crosshair and the others are laying into the rising bodies of Soot and Rummy. But they just keep tanking the hits, one after another. Even Blackjack seems only slightly inconvenienced by the incoming fire, still crawling his way forward despite every bolt that attempts to take him down. 

“We need to retreat!” Buck calls out from next to Hunter. He knows there's no way someone can watch what is happening right now and NOT know they need to retreat, but he’s hesitant to leave. 

“Not without our medic!” Hunter yells back, frustration and mild panic rising in his chest. There wasn’t time for that right now, he had to push through. They had been through intense missions before- nothing quite as crazy as undead soldiers- but it’s not like he didn’t know how to handle himself. 

Hunter and Buck pull back a little, grouping back together with Tech, Cross, and the rest. They’re careful not to let themselves get back into a corner or pressed into the rock, but the pursuit of the three undead was relentless.

The earth rumbles beneath them. A cacophony of scrapes and the sound of dragging reaches Hunter’s ears, and they all watch as those same vines from before shoot out from behind the group. They wrap tightly arount the struggiling forms of Blackjack, Soot, and Rummy. They yell and scream as the vines restrain them, and Hunter is quick to realise that the cave behind them has opened up. The heavy rock has been pulled aside, vines and fresh growth pulling it away to make way for an opening. 

“In there!” Tech calls out, blaster still smoking hot in his hand. 

“Are you sure?” Buck asks him, but no one has a chance to respond as the undead soldiers begin to break free, snapping bones and moving in odd ways to slip out of the vines that held them in a vice grip. 

“Yes!” Tech snaps. The cave is dark, and a little small for the seven of them, but Hunter doesn’t hesitate to follow Tech’s instruction, and neither does Crosshair. Buck follows after them, continuing to fire to drive back the undead soldiers before he turns and runs. His three brothers, however, are hesitant. The earth shakes as vines and foliage begin to slowly move back into place. They still have time to make it. Two of them finally turn tail and run, but one remains too hesitant. Hunter winces at the sound of his screams, the soldier being overtaken by Soot and Rummy right as the entrance to the cave finally closes, leaving them in darkness. 

It’s quiet for the moment, save for the sound of heaving breaths. Hunter swallows deeply, turning on the night vision in his helmet as he begins to take in the surrounding cave. 

“What the hell was that?” The soldier closest to Buck asks. He’s got a peace sign on the side of his helmet, the equivalent of having his name written on his forehead. Hunter is unsure if he’s talking about the broken, undead forms of the others, or the fact that the vines that they had been trying to destroy had just sealed them in this cave. 

“It doesn't matter, just as long as they can’t get through.” Crosshair responds. Hunter can hear your heartbeat in his ears again. They’ve gotten closer to you, but in the process, have trapped themselves in. Not that they really wanted to be around the three creatures that lurk outside anyway. Buck has already pulled up his commlink, trying to find a signal through the thick rock walls. Everyone is trying to get their bearings. 

“We need to find a way to retreat back to camp and warn the others.” Buck says. The words irritate Hunter a little.

“Not without our medic.” He says. Tech and Crosshair turn to their heads slightly, looking at him. Hunter ignores it. Buck is silent at the reminder, looking back at his stalling comlink with apprehension. Buck’s other brother- the silent, calculating type- Tenner, remains in place. He’s still looking at the sealed entrance before them. 

“We don’t even know the first thing about what just happened out there, or what’s going on in here. How do we know she’s not one of them?” Tenner says.

“She’s not.” Hunter interjects. 

“How do we know that anyone back at camp isn’t one of them?” Buck speaks up then, helmet lit by the glow of his commlink. He turns it off, putting the item back in its proper place. Tenner says nothing. Peace, still by Buck’s side, almost recoils at the words. Hunter isn’t exactly comfortable with the ideas that thought brings either.

There’s a loud boom, and the walls begin to shake. Hunter cringes at the sound, ringing loud in his ears. Everyone is on guard once again. A second explosion rings out, and then a third. 

”Are they using Detonators?!” Peace asks. The greenery in the cave begins to shriek and cry out, writhing in place in an odd and uncomfortable manner, still refusing to let go of the rock that seals the entrance- even when bits and pieces of the walls begin to crumble.

“Any ideas, Tech?” Hunter calls out, turning to look at his brother. Tech says something that Hunter doesn’t fully catch, before flicking a flashlight on and pointing it down what Hunter quickly realises is a tunnel. 

“We’re going further into this thing?!” Tenner complains. More and more of the cave has begun to crumble, the walls and roof falling in big chunks.

“If you want to survive, you will.” Tech answers him, ducking into the space. Hunter and the others follow close behind. 

Your ankle has only gotten worse. And so had your head. 

After the walls began to shake and the explosions were heard, Tarja and Sonso already had a plan in place. To make sure that the entrance hadn’t been breached, and to ensure that whoever might have entered could possibly be swayed, they would follow back towards the way you had come in, ready for anything. Protecting the heart had to be their priority, and although the parasites and hosts themselves could not enter and destroy it- that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be able to convince the others that they should. So, one half of the troopers would remain here, guarding the heart and the other few tunnels and entrances to the cave, while the other half would  investigate. 

You wanted to go with them. Tarja disagreed. It might be a fatal mistake on your part, sure, but if the boys had made it through? You wanted to be there. It’s not that they couldn’t listen to reason, or that they weren’t smart enough to figure things out on their own- you just…

You had to make sure that they were alive. If it was them, it proves that they weren't infected. If it’s not… 

No. You wouldn’t think about it. It wouldn’t be your fault, if they were. This isn’t your choice. You were just following the plan. Right? Right. It’s fine. Everything would be fine. 

Things are a little blurry, cognitively. You know you should have listened to Sonso, and stayed behind to rest. Hell, you’d be pissed if any of the batch did what you were doing right now. You squint at the light of the lamps as they fade in and out. The rumble of the explosions has stopped for now, the foliage beginning to settle a bit, but the damage has been done. Some of the digital lamps have gone out in the process, and you’re honestly a little thankful for every dark spot you come across. They soothed your headache a bit, but you knew that there was a reason for them, and you didn’t want to complain in case they tried to send you back. 

The halls of this tunnel are just as winding and confusing as they were the first time you traveled down the path. The troopers have to duck a little as they walk, and it makes you wonder if Tech and Crosshair would be doing the same. Freakishly tall as they were. Hunter… He would be fine. You hold back a smile at the thought, trying hard not to seem so delirious. 

It’s strange, to think of how far you’ve come with the team. How far you’ve come with Hunter, in particular. Thinking back on the many times he’s protected you in the past rotation alone creates a nervousness in your stomach that you really don't want to look into. You wonder if they’re doing okay. But you’d honestly been unable to think of much else since Sonso handed you that Holopad earlier. 

“Did you hear that?” General Tarja whispers. Sonso holds up a hand, and the men behind you stop. Everyone’s got blasters in hand, at the ready. Your strain your ears, looking at Tarja for guidance as you try to hear what she had. Then, there it was. The distinct sound of heavy footsteps approaching your way. Tarja sets her hand on her lightsaber, defensively. Your palm twitches. Instinct. There’s a corner just few feet ahead, and once the footsteps get close enough-

“Stop right there, or we’ll shoot.” Sonso calls out, his voice echoing off the walls. The footsteps abruptally stop, still around the corner. You can hear quiet whispers, before someone speaks.

“You won’t have time to pull the trigger.” It’s Crosshair, his words primed like a coiled snake. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding, relieved at the sound of his voice. You relax a bit, and begin to step forward when the general’s hand shoots out, stopping you. She shakes her head. The parasites can’t breach the heart, but they might be using the others as a way to destroy it. Her words from earlier ring loud as a bell in your mind. Regardless, they were your team, and they would listen to you first. You hoped they would, at least. Someone calls your name from around the corner, catching your attention.

“Is that you?” It’s Hunter who asks. You look back at Tarja, who still looks suspicious, but steps back when you give her a nod.

“It’s me.” You call back. You can almost feel the relief from the other side. “Are you guys going to shoot if I come out?” 

“Not unless you give us a reason to.” Crosshair replies, ever the charmer. You step forward, hands in the air as you begin to limp around the way, careful of your ankle as you do so.

Every minute feels like an eternity, your head still ringing with constant piercing pain. Your stomach is turning in knots with nervous anticipation, praying that it was, in fact, the others down the tunnel and whatever else might be lingering on this planet. The back of your mind is buzzing, tingling in a familiar manner. All of this led up, all of this tension, and all you had to do was take a few more steps, and turn.

But when you do, there’s nothing around the corner. 

You think you must be mistaken, at first. You blink, rubbing your eyes, and look again. There’s no lantern in this section of the tunnel, no light coming through at all. Still, you think you would see the armoured men through the thick darkness. 

“Hunter?” You call out, taking a few more careful steps forward. There’s no response. Something isn’t right here. You can feel it in the prickle of your skin. You furrow your brows, ready to inform Tarja of this odd turn of events as you turn back to the direction you came from.

It’s a dead end. A solid wall of rock behind you. That’s not possible. You were just there? The sensation in the back of your head buzzes louder, and you feel like it’s practically rattling your skull. Confusion fogs your mind. You turn back around once more, facing where the voices of your team had once been, wondering if you had simply gotten lost in all of this darkness.

The tunnel lights with a deep red glow as a lightsaber ignites. 

You freeze. Icy-cold fear in your veins as the red illuminates the figure before you. You stare in absolute horror at the Arkanian man. His once-pale eyes are now completely overtaken by their new, sickly red color. His face is skewed in a look of pure rage and disgust. 

“Kalt.” His name falls from your lips as you take a step back. You’ve lost yourself in your fear, only able to stare, frozen, as he begins his ragged steps towards you.

“You can’t hide forever.” He says, voice set in a steely, dangerous tone. You move back again, beginning to panic as he picks up his pace. He lets out an enraged cry as he raises his saber to strike you down. 

“No!-” 

Someone has you by the shoulders, calling out your name. Your vision is blurry, your chest heaving as you hyperventilate. You’re confused. You’re terrified. You can’t think, can't focus. You try to blink away the blurriness, unable to focus on the shadowed figure in front of you. It moves directly in front of your face, meeting your blind gaze.

“Look at me, I’m right here.” That’s Hunter’s voice. You try to focus your eyes, stumbling back ever so slightly in his grip. You make out his bandana first, then his tattoo, and then the shape of his nose. You scan his face, panicked and still unable to catch your breath.

“What? No, you were- I just, you weren’t here when I-” You stutter out. Hunter squeezes your shoulders, a serious look on his face. Hunter grabs one of your wrists, placing it on his armoured chest.

“Breathe,” He instructs. He takes a deep breath, waiting for you to follow suit. It takes a second for you to catch on. You’re still shaking, trying to find your way back to reality. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t here. You’re okay. Still toeing the line of panic, you look around. You can see Tech, Crosshair, Buck, and two others behind Hunter. All of them still have their helmets on, but they’re a mix of expressions. Some of them look sceptical, others worried, a few just downright awkward. That’s what makes you look back at Hunter, taking in the situation in its entirety. Did you just… freeze? You wonder. Was it all in your head, or had you been acting it out all in front of them? The thought is embarrassing. You step back from Hunter, steadier now. 

“You back with us?” he asks. You nod in response, frowning as you calm your nerves. 

“Sorry, sergeant. I’m not sure where I…” You jump a little as someone sets a hand on your back. It’s general Tarja. You turn, and in her vibrant green eyes you see that she knows. She may not have seen it, but you’re sure that she felt it. Felt the shift. She looks back, nodding at someone, and in the corner of your eye you watch as the rest of her troopers slowly come into view, guns lowered, but still tense. The three remaining troopers from her battalion immediately relax as they do, relieved. The others mirror that action. Sonso steps forward as Buck walks past Hunter, greeting one another by clasping hands. 

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, Brother.” Buck says. Sonso nods back at him, ever serious, but you notice the way the motion takes the edge off of him a little. The Soldiers that are with Buck do the same, filtering in with their brothers who they had thought were surely dead by now. 

You’re still gathering your bearings, unsure of why you had seen what you saw, unsure of how to proceed after seeing something so jarring. You reach up, touching the bandages on your forehead and wincing at the pain that still remains. Hunter says nothing, but you feel his gaze burning into you. Sonso, after reuniting with Buck, sends Tarja a questioning look, and she shakes her head at him. That wasn’t from the concussion, that was something else entirely. 

“I take it that blackjack hadn’t been entirely truthful about those vines.” Tech states. Tarja smiles at him, laughing ever so slightly. 

“What gave it away?” She asks, playfully. 

You get lost in the conversation as Tarja gives the newcomers the sparknotes of the situation. The beginning, the parasites, their mission, so on. You’re not surprised to hear that they had figured out that something was wrong just as quickly, and their recount of what happened just a few moments before. When you tune in, the details make you shudder. 

“There really isn’t any other way to kill those things?” Buck asks. Tarja shakes her head. 

“No. We’ve collected some of the pollen, but it’s too dangerous for anyone to get close enough to render it effective.” She says. You’re having trouble focusing, tuning in and out of the conversation, the vision repeating in your mind the longer you stand here and think. 

“Are you gonna tell me what that was?” The sound of Hunter’s voice snaps you out of it. Everyone else has migrated a little, gathering in a large group as they discuss exactly what they should do. You’re a little surprised that Hunter had gone off to the side to speak to you, instead of being fully absorbed in the mission. 

“No.” You reply, looking down at your feet. Hunter doesn't move. You can see in your peripheral that he’s cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I can get you a psych eval when we get back, if you want.” He says. You Scoff.

“It’s just a concussion.” You say, quickly. It’s not a complete lie. Still, you feel hollow when you say it. Like it was automated. Hunter looks up at the bandages wrapped around your head, and you frown after a moment, turning your head away from him. He lifts a hand, before he hesitates, putting it back down. 

“We need to get you some armor, or a helmet at least.” Hunter hums. His words make you a little irritated. It might just be because of the concussion, but you're building an issue with his tone.

“I have armor.” You snap at him. Sure, it's not as cohesive or heavy as clone trooper gear, but you weren't a clone trooper, either. Hunter seems to recede a bit at your response, brows furrowing as he gets defensive. 

“Obviously not enough.” Hunter scoffs. You roll your eyes, scowling as you look back at him. You cross your arms, fighting back the twinge of guilt in your chest for having such an attitude. 

“I didn't need a helmet before, I don't need one now.” You say, somewhat quietly. Hunter’s frown only deepens.

“You've never been in combat before. Combat training doesn't equate to experience.” He states, like he had all the facts in the world. That, in particular, sets you off. The last thing you needed right now was the same thing you’ve been getting from them from the very beginning. They weren’t the only ones who’ve done it. Every new crew, or squad, or medical bay- they all assume the same thing. That you’re some delicate, inexperienced medical officer. Never once have they asked you about it. 

“When did I ever say I've never been in combat before?!” You snap. Hunter doesn’t flinch, just looks straight on at you, unaffected by your attitude. 

“If you were, it’s not like you’re willing to share.” He says, coldly. The words make you pause, because he’s not entirely wrong. But you don’t understand why he would know that. He doesn’t know about your situation. None of them do. Cody only knew because of General Kenobi, so what gives Hunter the right to assume shit about you without speaking to you first? 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You grit out, voice low. Hunter narrows his eyes at you. 

“Really? All the research you did on us before we even met and you haven’t realised that I can tell when you’re lying? ” His words make you pause, eyes wide. 

Redacted.

The realisation is cold as ice. Of course they would have noticed. Still, that didn't give them any right to assume. Any information that's been removed from your file isn't their business. It’s yours.  If they wanted to know, they should ask. You wouldn’t be able to respond, not with a full truth anyway, but regardless. You thought you had gotten past all of the hazing and suspicious bullshit weeks ago. It's a bitter sting in your chest when you realise that you were wrong. 

You needed to calm down. Aggression, confusion, sensitivity to light, the ongoing migraine. Your concussion gives you no right to be this difficult, and Hunter was right to have returned the attitude. You recede into yourself a little, turning away from him. You feel what you think is a spark of regret from Hunter, but you don’t look back at him to find out if you’re correct. You were starting to wish you had listened to Tarja and stayed behind. 

“Are you two done?’ Crosshair’s interruption doesn’t clear the remaining tension between the two of you, but you turn away from Hunter anyway, back towards the ongoing discussion. 

More than a few eyes are trained on you. You try not to feel uncomfortable about it. The general looks away to be polite. Sonso is still looking at you like you might pass out any minute. Tech holds a hand out to you when you look at him, motioning towards the mini-flamethrower that’s still attached to your belt. Oh. Right. Is that what they wanted? You take it off, handing it to him.

“There is a simple solution to our main issue.” He starts, beginning to take the top half of the flamethrower apart. “If distance is what matters, we just have to make it so the pollen reaches farther.” Tech has removed the part of the device that makes the spark, leaving only the can of compressed gas. He fiddles with it a bit more, adding something or other, standing back once he’s done. He presses against the top of the can, demonstrating the airflow as it releases after a moment. 

“Most flamethrowers back at the camp ran on the same kind of compressed air. If we can collect enough of the pollen, we can repurpose them in a manner similar to this. Giving us a distance weapon against the parasites.” Tech finishes. General Tarja nods, and you can see it in her face that she’s fairly relieved at the news. Besides, you get the feeling that she wasn’t exactly okay with the flamethrowers even before she knew that the flora of this planet was sentient. 

“We’ll still need a way to get out of this cave.” Hunter speaks up from next to you. “The entrance we came from collapsed behind us after Blackjack and the others tried to break in with detonators.” On cue, a loud noise erupts and the tunnel begins to shake around you. Everyone braces. Bits of dirt and rock begin to fall from the low ceiling, and the shake becomes enough to make you lose your balance. Hunter grabs hold of your upper arm, steadying you as best he can as the rumble begins to stop. 

“Looks like they still are.” Sonso states. “The nearest cave exit is about 20 Klicks further out than this one. We risk them being able to break in by the time we make it back around at that rate.” He finishes. The general frowns, shaking her head at him ever so slightly.

“Even if they break through the collapsed rock, they can’t come inside. They would need other soldiers for that. It would take the same amount of time for them to head back to camp and gather the others.” She brings up. You agree with her. The situation was tricky. It’s not as cut and dry as any of you had hoped.

“They aren’t exactly in a good… bodily state, for that.” Crosshair mentions. You can hear the slight smirk in his voice. The thought of whatever had been waiting underneath those helmets makes you wince. The parasites kill the host upon implantation, merely using their memories and bodies as they puppet what the soldiers used to be. Some body functions work, others do not. They decay slower than regular corpses, but still decay nonetheless. You have to leave the thought be, your stomach beginning to churn the more you think about it. 

“Okay, so what then?” Buck says. “We don’t even know if these parasites have infected soldiers back at camp, either. They could be rallying the troops as we speak.” He’s not wrong. Every idea they have, every plan they make, it all leads back to a stalemate in the end. So many choices, so many ways for all of this to go wrong. You think back to the original file that Sonso had shown you, thoughts still rather foggy. There’s gotta be a way to be sure that when you contact the outside troops, that you wouldn’t be feeding intel straight into the thing you’re trying to get rid of. You’re anxious again, thinking about how deceptive these creatures are. The way they use their targets, the way they choose them. Hunting for Ideal brain matter and composition- wait.

“Not Wrecker.” You speak up, after a moment. They all look at you, questioningly. You start to speak again, but stop yourself. How much should you reveal about his medical past? Probably not a whole lot. Honestly, you might not even be bringing this up if you were any less delirious at the moment. You motion to the side of your head, right over the spot where Wrecker’s large scar is placed. Sonso is the first one to catch on, despite never having met the clone before. He takes the holopad with the original file on it, handing it to Tech. Tech reads it for only a moment before he lets out an understanding hum.

“Ah. I understand.” Tech says, still reading the Holopad. You can practically see his thought process as he formulates a plan while addressing all of the risks in his own mind.

“Sonso. Do you happen to know of any other Soldiers in your battalion with a history of Traumatic brain Injuries?”

 You definitely should have thought twice about giving him that information.

The first step outside of the cave system is a literal breath of fresh air. 

You’re not sure how long a day on this planet lasts, but the air outside is cool like early morning, the woven forest foggy. It feels good against your aches and pains. It does nothing to quell the anxiety of the group.

Thanks to Tech, some guidance from your new leafy friends, and a little bit of Jerry-rigging, they were able to finally get in contact with Wrecker back at base. He sounded lively as ever, having already run off the soldier Buck had asked to keep an eye on him. After explaining the situation to him and giving him a very short list of names, it didn’t take long before Wrecker had gathered the (not so willing) clones.

They had all sounded shocked at the sound of General Tarja’s voice, but very quickly got with the program. 

So, here’s what it all came down to. The rest of you would take the long way out, including the troopers who had originally stayed back in the center of the heart. Wrecker and his lively band of immune soldiers would then split off into two groups. One would remain in camp, removing helmets and checking vitals to be sure that no one else had been infected. The other group, led by Wrecker, would cause a distraction that would give the rest of you just enough time to get close enough to use the pollen sprayer(s) that Tech had made. 

Foolproof plan, right? You hoped. 

You linger towards the back of the group, still limping. You wanted to be back at the marauder more than anything, but you of all people knew that now wasn’t the time for that. If you only focus on how much pain you’re in, you’ll lose track of the mission. That can’t happen with stakes like these. 

Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair, all linger closely together a short distance ahead of you. Sometimes, one of the three will look back to make sure that you’re still there. More often than not, it’s Hunter. 

It’s frustrating, to be honest. They way his attitude switches up like it does. With him, every step forward means three steps back. You know you’re suspicious. You get that. You’re already conflicted about it as is. All you want is for your own team to talk to you. To ask you about your past. To ask you about anything. But it’s like your blank file prevents it. They all assume that you’re some lockbox of information because of it. Maybe you were. Hell, if they did actually ask you about any of this, what would you tell them? What could you tell them?

The answer? Nothing. You couldn’t tell them anything. The more that anyone knows, the more danger it puts them in. The more danger it puts you in. You are a lockbox- and you are a hypocrite. That you knew for certain. 

Tarja holds up a hand up ahead, and everyone stops. Every part of this forest is foreign and unfamiliar to you, but not to Tarja. You wonder if the Plants have been guiding her to this spot, and you have a feeling that you’re not far from the truth. 

Through the thickness of the trees, you can vaguely see a collapsed pile of rock in a small clearing just ahead. The white and green armor of Blackjack and two others catches your eye as their crooked and rather demented forms are digging through the rubble like rabid animals. The sight makes you shiver. Crosshair was right when he said they weren’t exactly in a good bodily state at the moment. They look bad enough from where you’re standing, you can only imagine how much worse they are up close. 

Tarja makes another hand gesture from her spot, and half of the battalion splits. Tarja and Sonso lead one group around to the flank, just as planned. The troop stalks through the dense foliage almost completely silently, something that you’re incredibly impressed by. Buck and the other half of the battalion remain, sticking in place as everyone spreads out ever so slightly, taking cover and focusing fully on stealth until given the signal otherwise. You gravitate towards Hunter and the rest of the batch, still trying to linger out of the way. You won’t let your sprain affect your performance as a soldier, but you don’t want to get in the way of the others. 

“Wrecker, you almost here?”  Hunter asks over the comms. There’s crackling from the other side, until Wrecker’s voice finally comes through.

“Pretty close, Sarge!”  Wrecker replies, in his own version of a whisper. 

“Make sure to get their attention before you can fully see them, Wrecker. If they think you know what they are, they’re likely to attack.”  Tech says. Wrecker voices an affirmative over the comms, and they go quiet for the time being. Hunter glances back at you, but doesn’t approach. Crosshair looks over at him, and they make eye contact. Hunter nods in your direction. Crosshair remains still, practically radiating annoyance. You watch the interaction as your comms crackle to life. 

“Hey, Medic-” Hunter hardly gets the words out before he’s interrupted by Crosshair.

“Stay out of the way.” Crosshair says, unsurprisingly. You try to hold back your annoyance with his tone. Hunter doesn’t turn back to look at you again. Neither of them do. In fact, Hunter only shrugs. You’re annoyed at the way they brought it up, sure, but inside? You’re grateful to have an out. You were hurt. You were miserable. And you can’t see yourself getting involved ending very well. So, you’d linger here for now. 

There’s a noise across the clearing, catching the attention of the three figures that had been digging through the rocks like madmen. You watch as the team shifts, soldiers primed, just waiting for the right change in the environment to spring into action. The figures stand up, almost like droids. They straighten immediately, picking up fallen helmets and gathering themselves up, literally. A voice calls out in the distance, and you recognise Wrecker and a few others as they start to emerge through the foliage. 

“Hey, Blackjack!” You hear him say, faintly. You have to strain your ears to hear the conversation.

“Do you have orders to be here, Troopers?” Blackjack responds. There’s a slight gravely tone to his voice that you’re pretty sure he didn’t have the last time you spoke. One of the men with Wrecker shifts uncomfortably, and you can only imagine how it must feel to be looking at and speaking to your brother, and knowing that he really is just… dead.  Wrecker, on the other hand, stands tall. Relaxed. Makes sense, given that he’s so used to high stakes missions. 

“ ‘course we do!” Wrecker cheers. “We were supposed to check the perimeter if you’d been gone for too long, right?” He asks, playfully elbowing one of the troopers that had some with him. The trooper flinches, but nods.

“Right. Yeah. They were your orders, Commander.” The trooper says. Risky move, but Blackjack doesn’t say a word. Rummy and soot behind him share an empty look, but say nothing. Blackjack stands there for a moment, a completely blank slate- before he turns around.

“Good. Help us remove this rubble.” He says, curtly. The fight that Hunter had described earlier must have taken a larger toll on their bodies than you realised. While Blackjack and the others had been taken over by these parasites weeks before you had landed on this planet, they had still blended in well enough that hardly anyone batted an eye at their change in attitude. Now? As the soldiers turn their backs on Wrecker, it’s so easy for you to see that the way they hold themselves is nothing short of inhuman. 

Tarja’s voice crackles through the comms, letting everyone know that the rest of the battalion are in place. You had them surrounded. Overkill for three soldiers, maybe. But not so much for body-stealing Force sensitive-destroying monsters. 

Tech is the one to give the go ahead once Blackjack’s back is turned fully. 

Wrecker surges forward, wrapping his arms around Blackjack’s shoulders and lifting him into the air. It takes two soldiers each to tackle Soot and Rummy directly after. It soon becomes clear that they wouldn’t be able to stop them for long. Both flanked groups rush forward in a calculated swarm. Tech had made as many of those makeshift pollen spreaders as he could, ending up with about four in total. But with a limited amount of gas in the canisters- they had to be precise. No matter how deadly a poison the pollen could be to these things, any chance of them surviving was too dangerous. 

Something is coming.

There’s one soldier from Tarja’s battalion that didn’t follow Hunter and the others into the fray. One other than you, at least. He hits the ground just about as soon as the last of the clone troopers make it out and into formation. Your head snaps in his direction when you hear the noise of his fall.

“Fuck!” You’re quick to limp over to him, training triumphing over logic as the soldier begins to seize. You don’t know the how or why he’s collapsed- but you’d be a terrible fucking medic if you sat there and watched. The first thing you do is take off his helmet. His face underneath it is pale, his eyes rolling up into his skull. He’s bleeding profusely from his nose, jaw clenched and locked into place. You curse under your breath, rolling the clone onto his side. You don’t have anything to cushion his head, but you’re careful to stabilize him the best you can. He continues to seize for a minute that feels like much longer, before he suddenly stops. His chest stills. His eyes close.

A wave of dread washes over you when his eyes open again. His eyes snap over to you- and yet they look so very empty. 

You aren’t able to grab for your blaster before his hands wrap around your throat.

You try punching him at first, and it hardly phases the body that used to be a clone trooper. You know he’s been infected, you just wish you had realised literally a minute sooner. His hands are curled around you in a vice. You keep trying to fight back, to push away, to get him to let go, but it’s futile. He rises from the ground, forcing you down as he gains leverage. You try kneeing him, kicking him, scratching at his face, the armor on his arms, but you can’t do anything. Your chest is burning, your lungs begging for air as you struggle against him. There was no way that this was the strength of a clone trooper alone. The parasite controlling him must be pushing past any bodily limits, muscles contracting past the point of no return. 

“WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!”  The sound of the trooper's voice isn’t even human. It’s not speaking common- nothing close enough for anyone to be able to understand. But you know what it’s saying. Your esophagus is closing in. You’re running out of options. You can feel energy building within you, begging to be let out. Begging you to open up, to let yourself free. And you almost follow through. Your nails are breaking, your vision becoming spotty. You’re running out of time. You need to make a decision now. 

An arm wraps around the throat of the infected soldier, trapping him in a headlock. A small can of compressed gas presses up underneath his bloody nose, pollen immediately being sprayed directly into his nostrils. 

Sweet air floods into your lungs as the soldier releases you, screaming in inhuman pain. It’s Buck who pulls him back and away from you. He reaches up to try and fight back, but the headlock holds tight. He goes limp very quickly, spiderlike legs emerging from his nose as he’s dropped to the ground. The parasite crawls out of his head only halfway before it succumbs to the poison, curling up dead. 

You cough as you gasp for air. You’re not sure you can even call it relief, every breath burning your throat. You’re still alive though, right? Buck heads to your side as soon as he’s sure that the parasite is dead, careful as he helps you sit up.

“I got you.” He says, slinging one of your arms around his shoulders. You try to speak, but it feels like you’re forcing knives down your throat. All you can do is cough. Buck winces at the small, wheezy sound that does come out. He fishes through a small bag on his utility belt, taking out a small canteen of water that he tries to hand to you. You wave him off, knowing that it might just make things worse. 

“Is… it over?” You’re able to ask, eventually. Buck nods, helping you to your feet as you continue to hack up a lung. That was quick. Or was it? You’re not sure. He calls out for a medic, but you’re shaking your head. You were fine. Beat to hell and back- but you didn’t have any life endangering injuries. None that you couldn’t treat by yourself, at least. You shake Buck off, not impolitely, but you could walk, and you didn’t really want to let anyone else see you as weaker than you were. He hovered close by as you two walked out into the clearing where the rest of the battalion had dispersed. The three bodies that remained of Blackjack, Soot, and Rummy are now finally still. 

Sonso is the first one to make it to you, full on ready to check you over. You weren’t blind, you could see that others were injured. You start shaking your head at him, having to take a second to form the words you needed.

“No, go check on your brothers. I… Don’t put me on your priority list.” You get out, between coughing fits. 

“Respectfully Ma’am, You’re a lot more banged up than they are.” Sonso replies. There’s loud footsteps, and a helmetless Wrecker is soon crowding you as well. 

“Holy shit, What happened to you, doc?” He asks. You sigh, frowning as Sonso lifts your chin, feeling around your neck as he checks for anything overly concerning. You can already feel the bruising starting to form. This had been such a shitty week. Hell, over the span of what you think was only two days, you’d been dragged across half the planet’s surface. Smashed your chin, sprained your ankle (twice), hit your head and gave yourself a concussion, had a panic attack, and now this. 

“I’ll be fine.” You reply, horsely. Sonso steps back from you, and you don’t need to see his face to know the expression he’s making. The signature look of a tired medic. 

“It’s nothing that a Bacta patch can’t fix.” You tell him. Earnestly. He shakes his head, but he knows you’re right. You can already hear the orders now. Soft foods or liquids. Don’t drink water until you’re sure something's not wrong internally. Take it easy, don’t overexert yourself until after you’re fully healed. Throat, Head, ankle. 

Sonso is called off to the side again, giving you one last once-over before he goes. You nod at him, and he moves on once he realises that you weren’t budging. You know he understands, but again, sometimes training triumphs over logic. You can see Tarja in the distance, talking with a few of her Soldiers through long distance-comms. Probably making sure everything back at camp is okay, you presume. The forest feels lighter than before. Foliage dancing in the wind, vines starting to rise out of the rocky rubble and branch out, interwoven through groups of soldiers like they were saying thank you. Soldiers have started to relax a bit, taking off their helmets in taking in the fresh air and sunlight after having gone so long without it. 

Someone Calls your name. It’s Hunter, with Tech and Crosshair right behind him. All have taken off their helmets, just like Wrecker had. You can see that he’s tense, and you can’t help but sigh again. Already hearing the lecture he was sure to give you.

“I thought telling you to stay put was supposed to keep you out of danger.” Crosshair says once they get close enough. Tech is the next person to get into your personal space, looking closely at the bruising on your throat, but he steps back after a moment. 

“It was one of the parasites. It managed to get control of one of Tarja’s men, and I noticed a little too late.” You say, curtly. Your throat is still hoarse and scratchy, but you’re at least able to form a sentence without having a coughing fit halfway through. Your gaze shifts back to a now helmetless Buck. That coudn’t have been easy for him. Even now, he’s surveying the treeline, and looking over his brothers one by one. Even after they all get dosed by pollen before they leave, you’re sure that that kind of paranoia would take a while to wear off.

“Buck was able to pull him off of me before things got too out of hand.” You say. Hearing his name, Buck’s attention is now back on you. You give him a slight smile- that was probably more of a pained, slight quirk of the lips- so you mouth a thank you to him instead. He nods back, face relaxing a bit as he smiles back every so slightly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says. “Can’t have you dying. I don’t have anything else pretty to look at.” He jokes. You give him a skeptical look, not because the flirt was unwelcome, but more so because you knew you could not have looked worse at the moment. Buck winces immediately upon realising that it may have been the wrong moment for that, and you can’t help but laugh a little at the overwhelmingly guilty look on his face. At least he lightened the mood a bit. 

“I guess I do look pretty good in black and blue.” You joke, looking back at the batch. Wrecker lets out a loud laugh. The joke falls a little flat on the rest of the team, however. Especially Hunter, in particular.

“Let’s get you back to the marauder.” Hunter says, face rather unreadable aside from a small pinch of his forehead. You’re a little surprised at the lack of a lecture or discipline, but honestly, you kill to be able to sit down right now. 

You’re slow as all of you begin walking over to Tarja, but the group, including Buck, stays close. Tarja has just hung up on her soldiers back at camp, taking a second to collect herself. She looks up when she spots your group, giving you all a tired smile. 

“Do you need any additional assistance, General?” Hunter asks. Tarja shakes her head in response.

“You’ve done enough, Sargent. We’ve got it from here. I’ve already dispatched a group to head back to camp with some of the pollen. Now that we have a way to repurpose all of the flamethrowers, we shouldn’t be having any more incidents before we clear out.” She says, gratefully. Buck steps forward, leaving your group to stand beside his general. He reaches forward, shaking hands with Hunter with a respectful nod. 

“Thanks for the help, Brother. I hope we’ll be seeing you again.” Buck says. Hunter actually smiles at him. 

“Likewise.” Hunter replies. 

Tarja looks over to you as the clones say goodbye, but she doesn't say anything. You make eye contact with her, and can’t help but feel like she was trying to pour overwhelming support into you. You stand up a bit straighter, and send her a smile. 

It’s not long after that that you’re finally back in the marauder.

You’re sitting on the floor in the midship, slowly drinking what was essentially liquified rations. Roger is sitting next to you, whirring and beeping occasionally like a worried puppy. You don’t have the energy to respond to him verbally, but you give him a pat or a smile occasionally to show him that you’re okay. Not that it really convinces him. 

You’ve put a brace on your ankle. Placed bacta patches on your neck and head, thankful to finally have access to them via the ship’s med kit. Your personal med bag was thankfully still on you- almost empty as it was. You knew you looked bad earlier, but now that the bruises have had time to set in, you looked even worse. The bruising around your next was a dark, dark color by now- and if droids could feint, you were sure that Roger would have when he saw you first step on the ship. Even now, covered in bacta patches and bandaged, he still refuses to leave your side.

Your eyes are drooping. Your body is screaming at you for rest and sleep. You can’t, though. Once the adrenaline wore off, you hurt much, much more than you had before. Hell, you’re not even sure you could manage to get up now that you’ve sat down. 

Wrecker is in the Refresher, Tech has called it a night, and Crosshair is somewhere down the aft where the weapons racks are. You can’t see Hunter, but you know he’s in the cockpit, speaking with someone over Holo. You’re a little jealous, honestly. How come everyone else got away with minor scrapes and bruises, and here you were like… this? It’s probably Karma, you decide. You don’t want to think about what for. 

“I’m okay, Roger.” You croak as the droid begins to whine again. He beeps, sadly, but quiets down a little. You lean back, resting your head against the wall after another sip. There’s a click, and a whoosh of doors as Hunter exits the cockpit. You close your eyes, hoping that if you just stop thinking or using your brain, that maybe some of the pain would lessen. You hear his footsteps as they approach the midship, and open your eyes slightly as he comes to a stop across from you. 

“They’re sending us back on leave.” Hunter starts. “Coruscant.” 

You’re not surprised. You knew they would, given the extent of your injuries. You don’t mention it, though. 

“How are you feeling?” Hunter asks you. You let out a small sigh at that, sitting up a bit straighter as you rub your eyes. 

“Not great.” You say, earnestly. Hunter looks concerned. Not that he hadn’t before, but you can see his face twitch a little. You get the feeling that he’s a lot more worried than he’s letting on, but you knew that the others were, too.

“We’re better off stopping by Kamino to get you serious aid, first. I’m sure they won’t mind if we make a pit stop.” Hunter says, frowning. You shake your head at him. Going back to Kamino was the last thing you wanted.

“It’s fine, Hunter.” You whisper. 

“It doesn’t look fine.” His words make you a little annoyed. Indignation sparking in your chest. The two of you are at a stale mate, but you don't have the energy to follow through with it for once. You remember earlier, when you had gotten so pissed off at him for just... being concerned. If you were, It’s not like you’d be willing to share. The memory lets the air out of your chest, and you deflate a bit.

“I’m sorry for lashing out earlier.” You say after a moment. Hunter seems a little taken aback by the apology, frowning. 

“Don’t be.” He says,“I took it too far.”…You weren’t expecting that. It’s quiet. You wonder if he’s going to talk about the other things he said, but he doesn't. You don’t bring it up either. You didn’t want to. You were so, so tired. And somehow, you still feel like laughing. 

“You know, we should really stop fighting like this.” You muse. “Maybe we should truce?” Hunter lets out a small laugh at that, and his smile is genuine. 

“Buy me a drink when we get to Coruscant, and I’ll think about it.” He rumbles.

“They’re sending us on leave again already?!” The sound of Wrecker’s loud voice makes you jump a little. You didn’t even hear him come in? Both you and Hunter look over at him. Unfortunately, you realise he’s bare ass naked a little too late. 

“Wrecker!” You scold, slapping a hand over your eyes and turning away quick enough to make your head spin. Hunter sighs heavily, but doesn’t sound too surprised.

“Really, Wrecker?”

“What? I put on a towel.” Wrecker pouts.

“No, You didn’t.” Hunter finishes. You still have your eyes covered, trying desperately not to laugh, knowing how bad it would hurt if you did. You can hear Crosshair complaining somewhere down the hall.

“Wrecker, Stop leaving your blacks in the fresher.” He snaps, footsteps coming around the corner. Wrecker remains where he is, standing with absolutely no shame. Crosshair stops dead in his tracks when he actually sees Wrecker, and you can hear the aggravation in his voice only worsen. 

“There is something seriously wrong with you.” He growls. You can't hold back the laugh anymore at this point, your cackle immediately turning into a coughing fit.

The moment feels homely. But you’re still heading to corsucant, and the thought is pulling dread into the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything different.  

Your footsteps echo through marble halls. The clothes you’re wearing are lighter compared to your uniform, less itchy. You would be thankful, but the reason you’re here still remains blatant in your mind. You used to smile more in these halls. But as more and more people began to avoid you, you stopped enjoying your visits back “home”. 

Slipping away from the Coruscant barracks is easy. None of the troopers stationed here stop you, especially when disguised and dressed as a civilian. But it’s not like they could, even if they wanted to. You made sure that the batch wouldn’t notice your absence. They thought that you were resting, or in a medbay somewhere. If they managed to find out you had left, you were sure you could come up with some excuse. Besides, you didn’t have to tell them where you were going. You likely never would.

The temple is the same as it was before. Same halls, same silence, same intimidating council doors. You take a deep breath, centering yourself before you push them open and enter the room. 

Sunlight beams through the wide windows of the Jedi council chambers. The room is a mix when it comes to attendance. Some of the masters are there in person, others present through the flickering blue light of holograms. All of them, however, have their attention on you once you step through the doors. 

Depa Billaba is the first one to speak to you, calling your name with kind eyes, even though she’s talking through her hologram. 

“Have you been able to stop at the medical wing yet?” She asks you. You nod in response. 

“I have. My wounds have been closed by hand and treated with a standard round of bacta.” You start, taking a deep breath as you approach the center of the council room. “I thought it was best not to allow the other healers to mend me. I didn’t want to raise suspicion by recovering too soon.” Your ears perk as someone scoffs off to the side. 

“They shouldn't be suspicious. They’re clones, as simple minded as they come. They should just accept what you do, and cease their questions.” The man says. You don’t recognise this Jedi, but you feel the shift in the room as others express their distaste for his statement. 

“We must take chances not. Far too great, the risk is.” Master Yoda speaks. You feel yourself relax a little when he does, but not by very much. No, the council room would almost always cause you anxiety.

“I still stand by my belief that her skill of force healing is being wasted long as she remains undercover.” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi is the one who speaks this time, talking about you like you’re not even in the room. It’s infantilising. “A Jedi who seals themselves off from the force is no Jedi. She should just return to the temple and remain here as a healer.” The room erupts in murmurs. You watch as Master Mace Windu shifts in his seat, leaning forward. 

“-And bring Kalt Hugo to the temple steps? How many younglings are you willing to put at risk?” Windu asks, frustration evident in his voice. Your stomach drops a little at the sound of his name, that familiar icy fear sending a cold sweat over you, no matter how you try to shake it. Some of the council murmurs their agreement with Windu. 

“Kalt was a brilliant Jedi, and he’s an even worse Sith. Even he knows that showing up to the temple is a death wish.” Ki-Adi-Mundi speaks again.

“Although I disagree in some ways, I agree that Kalt is smart. We’ve seen time and time again that he’s shown a pattern of avoiding places where he would be outnumbered by Jedi. What would be the harm in returning her to service at the temple if she wishes?” Depa says, effortlessly speaking over the murmurs of the council. Windu shakes his head, frowning.

“Because he is hunting her, Depa. Who’s to know what lengths he’ll go to so that he succeeds?” Her former master replies. 

“We need all the Jedi we can get in this war, if she’s happy as a medic, then that’s where she should stay.” Plo Koon speaks for the first time, his focus intent despite his presence over hologram. 

“How does that make her any different than a clone, if she’s not using her natural gifts?-”

The room is as close as it can get to chaos. The Jedi are almost fighting, discussion becoming heated with you in the center of it all. They’re not just speaking over you, they’re speaking for you. You feel so embarrassed. They always do this. They treat you like a child. Debate what’s best for you. They don’t ask. They decide. No matter what their intentions were, you always find yourself envious of those who can stand before the council and still speak their mind. And yet, you never do. 

Cowardice is worse than rage.  

“I was under the impression that this council was gathered to discuss her latest mission, not her placement as a jedi.” The voice carries over the ongoing chaos, catching everyone’s attention. The sound causes you to relax almost instantly. General Kenobi walks in, casually. He catches your gaze as he passes you, his smile giving you a bit of your confidence back. 

“You’re late, Kenobi.” Mace Windu sighs. 

“My apologies. The spaceport traffic this time of day is dreadful.” Kenobi replies in a cheeky tone, sitting down in his seat.

“And where is Skywalker?” Ki-Adi-Mundi asks. 

“Escorting a senator. He encouraged the Council to go on without him.” He chirps. Ki-Adi-Mundi’s attitude goes sour at his casual dismissal but is interrupted before he can raise another issue with it.

“Agree, I do. Proceed as intended, the council must.” Yoda speaks. The council goes silent, once again, and finally, their attention actually turns to you to listen and not at you to criticize. 

So, you tell them. You tell them about the force vision. Of how you were unsure if it was something that came on naturally, or something that happened due to the unique nature of the planet. You tell them about the parasites. Their dangerous nature. Their weaknesses. 

There’s more you want to say when you finish. But you hesitate, pressing your lips into a thin line. Master Yoda is the only one to notice.

 “Padawan, no longer you are. Speak freely, you must.” He says. You take a breath.

“I want to remain as a combat medic.” You say, truthfully. A few members of the Council show their disapproval, but the majority seem to be listening intently.

“I’m confident in my team. When it comes to the ongoing situation, I think that staying with clone force 99 remains my safest option due to their… unpredictable behavior.” You wince a little bit at the callous words. 

“I agree.” Kenobi speaks. “I’ll continue to vouch for clone force 99, along with her placement amongst them. They’re making good headway into the separatist weapons trafficking ring. To change the team now with as much progress as they’ve made would simply not make sense.” The council, overall, is quiet at first. Murmurs begin among them, but after a minute of quiet debate, the council agrees. 

And just like that. Everyone is dismissed. Holos blink out, masters begin leaving. Some of them give you a polite goodbye, and others simply pass. You try not to take it personally when Obi-won has to do the same.

“I’ll be seeing you soon. Try not to let them get to you.” He says, kind as ever as he leaves. You smile at him, thanking him for the save. Once the room empties almost completely, you feel like you finally have the courage to leave.

“Wish to speak with you, I do.” Mater Yoda speaks, still sitting in his council chair. 

“Yes, Master Yoda?” You respond, almost worried about his tone. Yoda smiles at you kindly as you approach him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that you find lacking in many of the other Jedi masters. 

“Confident with these clones, you are, hm?” He asks you. You weren’t expecting a question like that, slightly shocked. You take a moment, swallowing as you try to find the right words.

“Yes. I am.” You tell him, but the flicker of doubt inside of you lingers- as it usually does no matter how honest you try to be. 

“With previous placements, you were?” He asks.

You don’t know how to reply this time. 

You suck in a breath, holding it. Yoda frowns, and in his eyes, you don’t see pity. You see sadness. For you. For your master. For Kalt. For Elita-9, Imeria, Bloem. 

“The guilt you have now, should be something you hold onto, not.” He says. Your face feels warm, moisture building in your eyes. You can’t find it in you to respond. 

You feel worse leaving than you ever did before arriving at the Coruscant Jedi temple.

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Ch 4: That's not Blackjack.

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader - Slow burn, eventual smut.

TADAA! I got too excited after finishing this chapter and decided to post a day early.  There are plot holes and random bullshit galore, but I'm really enjoying the process of writing this little mini mission. I also just wanted to remind you guys that this fic in itself is an experiment! If some parts come off rushed, or the writing style changes a little, it's because I'm writing this fic as a way to push past my perfectionist tendencies when it comes to my fanfiction. I don't want to burn myself out, so if I hit a roadblock or I'm unhappy with something, I just finish it out to the best of my ability and move on lol! Tws: Horror. Mild gore. Body-snatcher shit, explosions, reader is used as bait, living planet entity, minor injuries. Possible medical inaccuracies, I tried my best i'm sorry lol.

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You always liked the balconies. They were made of such pretty stone. You liked to sit on top of the marble railings, swinging your feet back and forth while you watched the sunset after dinner. You were never supposed to be able to sneak out here while you could be learning, but the Theelin that sits by your side would always turn a blind eye. Even if you had been stubborn, or rude, or difficult that day. You lean into his touch as he ruffles your hair, smiling wide as the sunset turns from pink and yellow to a glorious orange. It’s calming. You miss it. You miss him. But you don’t know why. He was right by your side, wasn’t he?

The only Father you knew calls your name, his voice just as warm and kind as you remember. You look up at him, and his smile is soft. He looks sad.

“It’s not your fault. Do you understand?” He says. You don’t understand what he’s talking about, but for some reason, tears still start to well in your eyes. 

“I did something wrong.” You say, feeling older than before. He frowns. He doesn’t reach out to you. Doesn’t comfort you like he used to. You don’t think he can.

“No.” He replies. He’s lying. You know he is. He has to be. If he wasn’t, he’d still be here. With you. With him.

“I did. I did do something wrong.” Your tears have welled over. Your face feels warm, but stiff. You feel your tears on the side of your face, but not your cheeks. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. Your fault. Yours. 

You did this. You did this. YOU DID THIS. YOU DID THIS. IT WAS YOU. IT WAS-

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” 

You hit your head against the ceiling of the marauder when you wake up from your nightmare. A loud thunk interrupts the silence of the night. You hold a hand to your forehead, wincing. Ouch. It takes a second for you to be able to get your bearings, still lost somewhere between your dream and reality. It’s always similar nightmares, repeating. You think you’d be used to it by now, but you’re not. You’re not sure you could be. 

Things were going well for once. After extracting and combining though the data he got from Roger, Tech had sent the names, locations, and all other recoverable info to General Kenobi, who was continuing to supervise your ongoing mission to locate and investigate the Separatist weapons-trafficking ring. Throughout all of the information and data, there was only one name that came up as high priority. 

Iya Sumin. The tall pantoran woman from Leetu, and Roger’s rightful owner. A renowned expert in smuggling and one of the more well-off separatist leaders. She’s known to be selfish and money-hungry, employed by the Sith for her expert abilities and expertise in bitch.  In your words, at least.

You had a name, and that was what was most important. Even though you have probable cause to go ahead and arrest her, General Kenobi had a request of the batch before the investigation could continue.

Which is how you ended up back on the Marauder, being shipped off to an unnamed planet on a rescue mission. The planet did have a name, of course, like Crocus or Alcea or… something. But you don’t have it in you to remember. The Battalion and Jedi that had called for backup were originally sent to interrupt and destroy a presumed separatist attempt at stripping the planet for resources. According to General Kenobi, General Tarja En has said that they had greatly underestimated the number of droids that were on the planet, putting herself and her team in great danger. Shortly after that, they lost contact. 

You had been holding your head in your hands for a minute, trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. Trying to forget the echoes that the nightmare left behind. Sometimes you wonder if it was the force trying to tell you something, other times you feel like you’re sure it is. You just… can’t. You can’t hear it right now. You can’t. 

The door to the bunkroom slides open. Crosshair makes a sound of annoyance from his bunk, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his eyes- still asleep, you think. You look over at the door, still a little groggy, and it’s Hunter. He’s still in his sleep clothes, his hair loose with his bandana around his neck. He looks just as awake as you are, which wasn’t very much. He holds two cups of caf in his hands. You look at him, a little confused. He holds one of the mugs out to you. You send him a sleepy smile. 

You find yourself in the cockpit with him when you leave the bunk. Sharing caf under the blurry lights of hyperspace. You’ve noticed that Hunter keeps the lights dimmed during his turns on watch, and you're pretty thankful for that at the moment. You’re not sure you could blame him. You’d probably have a constant migraine, too, if you had the same modifications he does. 

“Sounded like a bad one,” Hunter says after a long moment, bringing the mug to his lips. You frown, blowing the steam off your own cup. The warmth in your hands feels nice. Sometimes you forget how cold space can really be. 

“Sorry. I hope I didn’t disturb you.” You whisper back. You can feel the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment on your skin, wishing that you could just have dreamless sleep for once. You’re looking ahead at the windows. Hunter is looking at you. 

“We all get them.” He says, shaking his head. “I figured the Caf might help.” He probably heard your heartbeat from the cockpit. Thundering and pounding in your chest in the moment where it’s supposed to be the slowest. Hunter didn’t seem like the type to be a worrier, but you can imagine he’s used to his brothers’ nightmares as well. He probably makes Caf for them, too. 

“I haven't had one in a while.” You admit, quietly. “I only seem to get them when I begin to settle somewhere.” Hunter is quiet at that, before he cracks a sly smile.

“You want us to make your life a bit harder, then?” He chuckles. You shake your head at him, trying not to roll your eyes. 

“Don’t even try.” You say quickly, that damn smile creeping back onto your face. You can’t help but laugh with him a little. When the room goes quiet, and the laughter dies down, you don’t mind it. The shared silence between the two of you is comfortable. Early morning starting to finally set in as you faintly hear Roger, who was in sleep mode with Gonky when you passed by, begin to power on. Morning alarms go off. Doors open and close further down the ship. 30 minutes are left on the hyperspace navigator. It was time to get to work.

“Well, this isn’t a great sign.” You mumble, staring out at the lifeless basecamp in front of you. There’s been no contact with General Tarja or her battalion in quite some time, so you had tried to level your expectations. You were prepared to find many dead. You were hoping to find everyone alive, and their communicator broken. What you weren’t expecting was a completely abandoned camp. Most of the tents had fallen or slumped over, with very few still remaining upright. Bowls, plates, even some gear… it looked like everyone just got up and left. 

“If local ecological factors are to be believed, this place has been abandoned for approximately two weeks.” Tech says, scanning through the debris as the five of you step through the heavily wooded camp. Where other battalions might have been instructed to cut trees and clear space, this camp in particular had been set up to respect the heavily forested nature of this planet. The tents were scattered around the trees and bushes, not the other way around. You don’t know General Tarja, but from what you’ve heard of her, she was respectful of nature and always one to advocate for ecological protections across the galaxy. That’s why she was sent to shut down this resourcing operation, you suppose. You carefully step over a large branch, inwardly thankful that you had left Roger on the ship. 

“I thought that General Kenobi only received the distress signal one week ago?” Hunter asks. 

“You would be correct,” Tech responds. This whole place was really starting to creep you out. There were no bodies, the stench of death nowhere to be found. And if the droid army had come through here, this whole place would have been torn up and trampled. A sense of dread settles over you. You almost feel like you would have preferred any other option, because at least then you would have an idea of where everyone went. 

Something is coming.

“Maybe they made a retreat and just forgot to notify command?” Wrecker speaks up, gun heavy in his hands as he nudges a fallen tent with his foot. Crosshair walks past him coldly, rifle at the ready as well. 

“Right. Like we didn’t leave the Marauder right next to their only transport ship.” Cross says. A sense of unease is really starting to settle over all of you. What in the world would have caused them to leave like this? And if Tech was right (and he hardly ever is wrong), how would General Kenobi have received their distress signal if they left camp a week before it came through? It just wasn’t lining up. You don’t have to see Tech’s face to see that he was already connecting dots that you couldn't even fathom. 

“I’m going to look for the medical tent.” You tell Hunter, who nods back at you. All of you were partially scattered at this point. But with the way this camp was laid out, you’d be out of the line of sight while looking for the medical tent. The thought makes you anxious, but you don’t need your team to be able to function by yourself. You can handle it.

Medical tents are almost always downwind of the rest of base camp. It’s less likely to spread disease that way, and less likely that the smell of death would linger in camp after casualties were taken to the transport’s morgue. That meant better morale. And better morale meant fewer complications. Fewer needless deaths. Sure enough, you do find the medical tent downwind. It’s still propped up, fairly sturdy compared to many of the other tents that remained in camp. You open the tent flaps carefully, making sure to tie them to the posts so that they will stay open. A small breeze flows through, and the smell of old blood hits your nose, coming from inside the tent.

Something is coming.

There are two cots in the medical tent, along with a small portable toolbox that’s usually used for medical supplies. You carefully walk into the tent, reaching for the overhead porta-light, but there’s not one. Okay, sure. You go straight for the toolbox, but when you open it, it’s mostly empty. Okay. They didn’t abandon their medical supplies at least, which makes you a little more hopeful that they could all be alive somewhere. But why did it smell so much like blood in here?

A splotch of brown catches the corner of your eye, and you turn your attention towards the cots. The cots are missing the thin pillows that aid units normally have, but towards the head of the cot, there's a small brown stain. It’s dried blood, there’s no doubt about it. You’re careful not to get too close to it. It’s nothing alarming. Probably from a nosebleed or a headwound. But still, something doesn't feel right. You glance back at the other cot. No stains on this one, but it’s missing a pillow, too. You take a chance and lean down, looking under the cots. 

Maker be damned. You definitely found both pillows. The only issue was that they were both absolutely soaked through with old blood. What the hell had happened here?

“Hey, Guys?” You call out, standing back up. “You might wanna come look at this.” You exit the tent, able to just barely see the group through the foliage. Hunter looks at Tech, before they start to walk over to see the tent for themselves. You can kind of see Wrecker and Crosshair not too far behind.

“What did you find?” Hunter asks you. You take a few steps forward, trying to meet them halfway to explain, but something makes you freeze. That feeling of overwhelming dread suddenly increases tenfold, hitting you like a hammer.

SOMETHING IS COMING.

You hit the ground hard as something wraps around your ankle and yanks. The ground rushes past, sticks and roots and rocks grinding against you roughly as you’re being dragged away fast. Your heart is thundering in your ears, adrenaline starting to take over. You barely hear yourself as you scream for Hunter. You try to grab on to anything, roots, sticks, rocks- but you can't catch a grip. You try to pull out your blaster, but your chin slams against a rock as you shift your weight, hard enough to rattle your teeth. It dazes you, the blaster getting caught by the ground and tugged out of your grip as you fly past. This wasn't working. 

You can hear shouts behind you as you try to flip over onto your back, flashes of blasterfire in the corners of your vision. You fail at first. You try again, and this time you succeed. Once you’re on your back, you see that a thick vine is wrapped around your ankle, pulling you somewhere. You do your best to keep your head up as you grab for your knife. Got it.

The leather handle is rough against your hands as you try to lean close to the vine, trying to cut at it while doing your best to keep your head from hitting the ground again. It’s no use. The closer you get, the more you realise that it's not just one vine, it's multiple. If you manage to cut one, four more sprout from the stem, curling around your ankle in a vice. It’s the same with the blasterfire from your team. Okay. time to switch tactics. 

You grit your teeth as you flip back over onto your stomach, desperately digging your knife into the ground beneath you to gain more traction. The blade digs deep into the dirt, and you finally think you’re slowing down a little. It’s deep enough in the ground where it’s becoming harder to hold on to, rattling and catching on things beneath the earth, but you’ve got a strong grip. The blade hits something hard- rock, you think, and the vibration from it rattles up your arm. Your grip isn't strong enough to keep your hold, but it did slow down the tug of the vines to the point where you can grab onto a large root that sticks out nearby. Thinking quickly, you manage to wind your arm through a small gap in the underside, hooking your arm around the sturdy wood as the vines continue to pull harshly. You just needed to make enough time for the other to catch up.

But it would help if they hurried!

Hunter and Wrecker are the first to make it to you. Wrecker goes to the body of the vine immediately, wrapping his hands around it and fighting its pull, giving your ankle a little slack. Hunter has already got his vibroblade in his hands, kneeling beside you as he begins to try to cut the vines away. They continue to grow and swarm, just as they had done when you had tried that before. You just keep hoping and praying that somehow Hunter would be able to cut you loose. Whatever was trying to drag you in, you didn’t want to have to face it in person. If you survived that long, that is.

“Hurry up, Hunter!” Wrecker calls out from in front of you. You’re trying to focus on keeping your hold, but you’re beginning to slip. Wrecker’s slowly being dragged forward, his feet digging into the ground as he tries to hold on as long as he can. 

“Just hold on!” Hunter yells back. You don’t know if he was talking to you or Wrecker. Your shoulders are starting to ache and strain, and you’re not sure how long any of you can keep this up. Hunter keeps cutting and cutting, but he just can’t get through. There’s another hard yank from the vines. Wrecker loses his footing, falling over face-first as the slack disappears. Your arms slip from the root, and Hunter is quick to grab onto you, wrapping an arm around your torso, body parallel to your side as he tries to use whatever leverage he can get to dig his feet in and slow the drag. 

Electricity crackles through the air for a moment. You catch a glimpse of something being thrown through the air, landing somewhere ahead of Wrecker. Hunter shouts something that you don’t think the other two of you have time to process, and then Hunter rolls over you. Right as he does, there's a flash of light and a loud bang. The ground rumbles beneath you. It was an explosion. 

The vines let out what you can only describe as a scream. The writhe and retract from your ankle, retreating. You may have been shielded from the blast by Hunter’s quick thinking, but your ears are still ringing. Hunter leans away from you, giving you space to sit up, slightly dazed. He keeps an arm around your back to keep you steady. 

“ ‘you okay?” He asks. You nod, trying to shake it off. You can hear footsteps approaching quickly, Crosshair and Tech finally catching up, blasters still at the ready.

“What was that?” Tech asks, eyes on the area of the explosion. Wrecker, knocked backward a bit from the blast, sits up slowly with a groan, parts of his armor somewhat singed. Hunter stands, and you take his hand when he offers to help you up. 

“That wasn’t you guys?” You ask. They don’t even have to respond, because you hear someone call out from far to the right.

“Don’t lose it!” The voice is faint, but definitely there. The distinct sound of boots on the ground quickly approaches, and eventually, you can see flashes of white and green armor through the trees. Hunter’s fists clench as a few troopers walk into the clearing that the blast had just formed, the rest heading further into the forest, following the vines, you think. They look surprised to see all of you at first, and then instantly relieved.

“You made it,” One of them says. He’s got a pauldron on his shoulder, and you think you recognise his armor from the photos in the briefing. He’s their commander. Hunter steps forward, and you watch as he walks up to this clone, fists clenched. 

“Was that you who just set off that Detonater?”He asks, Tech and Crosshair follow closely behind him, while you hesitate. Something feels wrong here. You just can’t figure it out. 

“Yes, we-” Hunter punches him in the chest, hard enough to make him stumble back. He bows up in the commander's face, practically helmet to helmet as he begins to chew him out.

“The next time you call for backup, check the fucking flank before you start throwing explosives,” Hunter says, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “That blast could have injured us, or worse.”

“Yeah, or worse,”  Wrecker says. You look back at him, and he’s finally beginning to wobble to his feet. You thought he was fine at first glance, but as you watch him lose his balance and stumble as he gets up, your heart sinks, knowing immediately that you were so very wrong. He starts to go for his helmet to take it off, right as you quickly spring into action.

“No, no, no! Wrecker, do not take off your helmet!” You cry out. Wrecker shakes his head, still a little wobbly as he looks at you in confusion.

“Why?” He asks, stumbling forward. You brace, trying to prop him up as best you can, but Wrecker is just too damn big. You call out for help from one of his brothers before you reply.

“Because you can’t take it off before I make sure your brain is still in your skull, that’s why!” You tell him, maybe a little harsher than you needed to be. Some of Wrecker’s weight lifts off of you as Tech comes to his other side, helping you keep him steady. You thank him quietly. 

“Hunter, I need to get him somewhere safe to examine him.” You call out, one of Wrecker’s arms now slung over your shoulder, Tech underneath the other one. You can’t tell if Hunter looks concerned or angry due to his helmet, but he turns back to look at the commander anyway, who sighs. 

“We’ve got a camp nearby. It’s not much, but it’s safe.” He says. “I’m Blackjack, by the way. This is Soot, and Buck.” Soot and Buck, the other two clones that had appeared with him, nod their heads in recognition. 

“Enough with the introductions. Let's get on with it.” Crosshair says, hand still resting on one of his holsters. 

“Right. Follow me.” 

The camp that they bring you to is entirely different from the one you had been in before. It’s set up in a small clearing, the ground beneath your feet only a circle of ash around the tents. Soldiers stand on guard around the camp, flamethrowers in hand and fingers on the trigger. Commander Blackjack nods at one as he passes by, but the clone only stares, silently following the group with his gaze. It practically sends a shiver up your spine. 

“Just ignore him.” The clone named Buck says, walking alongside you, Tech, and Wrecker. “Rummy has been a little touchy lately.” 

“Seems he’s not the only one.” Tech answers, pointedly looking at their commander. Hunter and Crosshair are walking closely behind Blackjack and Soot, but you can tell that the Sergeant only has half of his focus on whatever conversation they’re having. He looks back at Wrecker every once in a while, and you know that he’s worried for his brother. Buck lets out a long sigh.

“He’s doing his best. Those vines that had you? They’ve been picking us all off one by one. Our General was one of the first. Blackjack is just trying to pick up the slack, that’s all.” Buck tells you. You furrow your eyebrows at that. He doesn’t sound too convinced with the words he’s saying, but you can imagine that he wants to be in support of his commander. 

“Hence the flamethrowers. I see.” Tech says. Bucks nods in response. Blackjack and the others stop walking up ahead. He’s talking to Hunter, but with the strain of Wrecker’s weight across your shoulders, you don’t really find it in you to try and listen in. 

“Here, let me take you to our aid tent,” Buck says. “They’re probably gonna start talking next steps, and I doubt you want to wait around for that.” You nod in response, looking back at Tech.

“Go ahead and stay with the others. I’ve got Wrecker from here. I have a feeling that they’re going to need you.” You tell him. Tech looks hesitant, looking from Wrecker to you.

“You’re quite sure?” Tech asks. You nod, trying to give him an encouraging smile in response. Thankfully, Buck is quick to step in for him, helping you prop Wrecker up. You’re careful to watch your step as Buck takes the two of you to the aid tent. You don’t think anyone will be able to get Wrecker back up if either of you falls. 

The aid tent that Buck takes you to is… odd. Small. Ripped. And upwind. 

“Who set this tent up?” You ask Buck. Inside the tent is a cot and a chair respectively. There are two medbags on the floor, next to the cot, stuffed to the brim with what you can imagine was the rest of the supplies they got from their original base camp. That wasn’t right, either. Medbags, when used instead of a toolbox, are supposed to be hung up while on outdoor planets like this one, to prevent the off-chance of contamination. 

“That would be Rummy. The soldier from earlier.” Buck starts, helping you set a barely lucid Wrecker down to sit on the cot. Rummy, the guy who stared you down as you came in. Alright. Sure. 

“Our original Medic, Sonso, was the first Soldier to get snatched. Rummy was already training under him, so he just took up the mantle. Why?” Buck asks. You’re already unpacking a scanner and some of your supplies from your own medbag, shrugging back at Buck.

“It’s probably nothing.” You say. It honestly might not be. How to set up your area and store your supplies was one of the very first things any medic learns. Sure, if their medic was gone, the others might not know that. But a medic in-training most definitely would. It’s fine. You don’t know them, they don’t know you. Your one and only focus right now is checking on Wrecker. 

Still, you can’t help but feel like alarm bells are ringing in your head. 

Buck says goodbye and says to just let them know if you need any help in here. He’s kind. Maybe a little tense, but who wouldn’t be in circumstances like these? Wrecker lets out a groan from under his helmet, and you apologise quietly as you power up your scanner. It’s similar to an X-ray, but designed so that it doesn’t pick up the plastiod from troopers’ helmets. You gently turn his head this way and that, making sure to get a good scan of all sides of his head. You can see some of the damage from his previous run-ins with explosives, but everything seems to be fairly okay as far as taking off his helmet goes. 

“Let me know if this hurts, okay?” You tell him. He grunts in response, and you ease his helmet off carefully. He doesn’t look too good. He’s squinting, eyes drooping, face grimaced. You apologize quietly as you take out your penlight, checking his eyes and making sure that they’re adjusting properly. You ask him the standard questions. Do you know what day it is, what’s your name, your designation, do you know where we are, etc. He responds to every question correctly. 

“You’re a lot nicer than Tech is, doc.” Wrecker rumbles, blinking away the brightness as you finish. 

“What, in like a medical sense?” You ask him, happy that he’s talking again. His silence on the way over here was really worrying, and if it weren’t for the way he was able to keep his feet under him, you almost thought that he had fallen asleep. Wrecker hums an affirmative in response. 

“I guess. It’s more like your… bed- sight manner.” He replies. You try not to correct him on his vocabulary. You hold the penlight out in front of his face, quietly asking him to follow it with his eyes.

“You’re nicer.” He repeats- hard to tell what kind of sign that is when it’s not really out of his norm. “And you don’t lecture me on… uh…” Wrecker trails off. Okay. So not really a good sign. 

“Recklessness?” You prompt.

“Yeah! That.” Wrecker says, looking a bit more alert. You need to keep him talking as long as you can. His eyes- well, eye, is fine for the most part. But the dizziness and confusion are your main concern, that paired along with his previous traumatic brain injury- it’s just not good. 

“If you do something stupid, I just might. Ask Hunter about it sometime.” You say, pulling out a separate scanner. You activate it as he begins to reply, checking on his brain activity as he speaks. 

“Ah, don’t mind him. He’s just not really used to outsiders really caring, ya’know? None of us are.” Wrecker says. It surprises you for a moment, almost enough to distract you from the screen. “-and you care a lot. even when we’re mean to you.” You’re not really sure how to respond to that. There’s a small ball in your stomach that you can’t place. Instead, you bring your attention back to the screen in front of you. You’re not seeing any new lesions, swelling, or bleeding in his brain, which is ideal. But the confusion and dizziness are still reasons for your concern. Wrecker begins to drift off a little bit, his eyes drooping and beginning to flutter closed. 

“Wrecker?” You call out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to wake him after setting your scanner down. 

“Did you say something?” He asks, only waking up a little. You let out a sigh.

“Well. You definitely have a concussion.” You say, stepping back. “Your brain looks okay, but I’m not fully comfortable with having you sleep it off. Go ahead and lie down. I’ll come back and check on you in a bit.” You finish. Wrecker nods, lying down on his side after you pack your things back into your medbag. You’re not sure if he’ll actually be able to stay awake, and the thought worries you. You want to be able to help him more, but at the moment, you’ve done everything you can do.

You look at your hands. 

Maybe not everything. You think. But you know better. Just as you finally make peace with it, and turn to leave the tent, Hunter is right at the entrance. You jump a little, startled. You still haven’t figured how how he can be so quiet at times. 

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” You say, breathing a sigh of relief. There’s something about this planet that just makes you so jumpy. And after the whole vine thing? You needed to be paying better attention. Hunter says nothing. He looks tense, his shoulders set tightly and his arms crossed. It’s clear fo you to see that he’s upset.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concerned. A flicker of doubt lingers in your chest. Hunter shakes his head, jaw clenched. You get the feeling you’re really not gonna like what he has to say. 

You’re careful as you approach the black ring of soot that marks the edge of camp, hearing murmurs behind you. You clutch the small flamethrower that Tech had given you tightly, sick to your stomach with dread. This is fine. This would be fine. 

But it’s not fine. Not really. You’re bait. 

Turns out, what Hunter had been so tense about before had nothing to do with you. It just had to do with, well, You. After the detonator blew and nearly took Wrecker out with it, Blackjack’s battalion had another group who you remember had quickly chased after the vines. While you were busy in the aid tent, that group had returned empty handed. Whatever this thing was, it was too fast for any of them to keep up with, and they had never been able to snag a tracker on it. So in talking next steps, they had set a plan to be able to finally track it down.

You were the latest target, and through Blackjack’s logic, you would be the wisest person to use to lure out whatever had been picking them off. That way, they can find out what has happened to their brothers and jedi. Gather who they could, if they could, and then leave. They’d put a tracker on you, follow the signal, and find out where you went. 

Bait was what they needed, so bait you had become.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Hunter says, and you can tell from his tone that he’s frustrated.

“It’s okay, Sargent.” You respond, taking a deep breath. “If it works, it works, right?” This was definitely not okay in the slightest. But you had a choice, at least. To be honest, you were more worried about leaving Wrecker unattended than anything. Tech, Crosshair, and Hunter would be following your tracker, along with Blackjack and some of his men. Rummy, their stand-in medic, included, you noticed. You didn’t like that. Not at all. But you did your scans. You did your work. And you didn’t find anything lurking in Wrecker that could be dangerous. It didn’t make you feel better though. You doubt it made Hunter and the others feel better either. But Buck told you he’d make sure someone kept him awake, and you believe him. Strange, how you had more confidence in a random soldier than his own Commander and Medic. 

You don’t know them. You have to remind yourself. You had no reason not to trust them as they were. 

You wince a little when you step wrong on your ankle, still sore from this morning. As you toe the line of camp, you silently hope that it would at least grab you by the other one if it came for you again. Everyone is geared up, just waiting on you. You can tell that Hunter isn’t happy about any of this, standing with his shoulders squared and drawn back. Even Tech and Crosshair seem upset. At least, you think they do. Your gaze passes over Blackjack, and you hold back a shiver. The helmets can make any soldier seem monotone, but that guy? Maker, it felt like there was nothing behind that visor. 

You turn your attention back to the forest ahead. Well. No time but the present, you guess. You step out of the ring of ash, walking out into the forest step by step. Once you get a few yards away, you pause. Waiting. You try to keep yourself focused, your breathing steady. A familiar prickle begins to rise on the back of your neck, hairs standing on end. 

It’s quiet. Silent. Still. You’re not sure what you were expecting, really. It wasn’t like whatever had been dragging people away was going to instantly- SHIT!

Something rough curls around your ankle - the sore one, unfortunately- and then you’re on your back, the ground rough beneath you it hauls you to the inevitable thing that was awaiting you. 

The strangest part? You still feel less doomed than you felt standing next to Blackjack.

Hunter is going to tear Blackjack’s head off. 

He’s been tightly wound all day. Stepping off the Marauder onto this planet was already enough to offset things. He can’t navigate. Not like the way he was designed to. The interconnecting web of magnetic pulses on every space station, every planet, and every starship is usually easy for him to feel out. But this planet in particular is just… a ball. A tangled ball of energy. It’s overwhelming. Every energy signal he can feel just weaves together and back again, drowning out individuals. Even if he hadn’t missed the sound of the vines approaching the camp from this morning, he should have been able to feel them. But he couldn’t.

He let you get dragged away. He let Wrecker get hurt because of it. And now Blackjack wants him to stand by and let it happen all over again.

Hunter is mad. He’s mad at Blackjack. He’s mad at himself. And now he was mad at you. 

Blackjack wanted to use you as bait. And the fool you were, you agreed to it. When Blackjack had first brought it up while you were busy taking care of Wrecker in the aid tent, Hunter didn’t even have to think about it before he told him No. But Blackjack was insistent. 

It was a stupid plan. It was a dangerous plan. And it could get you killed. He doesn’t know how many times he tried to tell the commander “No”, but the words never seemed to get through the thick-ass bucket on his head. They never were the type to blindly follow orders. But Tech said that with the right precautions, it might work. Hunter has faith in his brother, but it’s the “if”s and “might”s that were the problem. Additionally, if Wrecker suddenly declines in the camp and you weren’t there to help him? What would they do then? Even when he asked you if you were really sure about going through with this, he could tell that you were apprehensive and concerned, about yourself or Wrecker or both. 

He couldn’t stand it. He can’t stand it now, following the blinking tracker on the screen. He knows better than to keep leaning over Tech’s shoulder to check on the tab with your vitals, but he can’t hear your heartbeat right now. The last thing he needed was a dead medic. 

No. He can’t say it like that. 

“Must you hover, Hunter? I’m perfectly capable of checking her vitals myself.” Tech says, snapping Hunter out of his head. Hunter frowns, creating a bit more space between them. The group of clones had been keeping a good pace behind you, but if it was up to him and the rest of the batch, they’d be going a lot faster. Blackjack, despite not being able to see the tracker, was confidently in the front, Soot by his side. Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair were close behind them, and four other clones from Blackjack’s battalion followed. 

Hunter isn’t very good at hiding his aggravation. It was already enough that Blackjack had already put the batch’s lives on the line with the Detonator stunt from earlier, but he’s slow. It’s like he’s taking his time as they track you down, like he doesn’t really care. For all Hunter knew, He didn’t. There’s something off about Blackjack that Hunter just can’t seem to place. It’s in the way he talks, like he’s reciting the words- or repeating them from older conversations. The way he holds himself, too. It’s minor, hardly noticeable, but he’s just off. Strange. Frustration, anger, and suspicion are lingering in Hunter’s chest no matter how he tries to let it go. 

Your tracker had stopped moving about thirty minutes ago. Now, there’s a sudden uptick in your heartbeat on the vitals screen. Anxiety begins it’s slow pull at Hunter’s stomach. He and Tech share a glance. Crosshair says nothing, looking ahead at Blackjack with that signature scowl. He’s noticed it, too. 

“We need to start moving faster, Blackjack.” Hunter says, voice low in a warning. Blackjack doesn't respond, but Soot does, turning his head slightly to look back at Hunter. 

“ ‘She still have a heartbeat?” Soot asks. Hunter holds back some choice words in the casual way he says it. 

“Not for long, if we keep going this slow.” Crosshair retorts. Hunter and Tech both send Crosshair a look that their brother clearly ignores. That’s the last thing that they should be putting in the air right now. 

Hunter hears as one of the soldiers behind them begins to speed up a little. Leaves and sticks and shrubs crunching carelessly underneath his feet as he overtakes them. He nearly shoulders Crosshair as he passes, falling in line with Blackjack and Soot ahead ans the three begin to speak quietly. Yet another thing that Hunter has noticed. Blackjack, Soot, and Rummy must be from the same batch, he thinks. They all have that same kind of oddness to them. That same way of walking and stepping through this forest like they could care less if they trampled through it all. The men behind him, however, are careful with every step. They avoid stomping over plants, flowers, shrubs… Hunter can hear the difference so clearly. And considering what they had been told about General Tarja’s love of nature, he would have expected her commander to be much more considerate in his footing.

Someone lets out an unsure hum, falling into place next to Hunter as Blackjack and the other two begin to speed up, just enough to create some space. It’s Buck. Maybe the one soldier in this battalion that hadn’t pissed any of them off yet.

“Something wrong, Soldier?” Hunter asks. Buck doesn’t take his eyes off his commander. 

“It’s nothing. Not really, anyway. Rummy just doesn’t normally get along with Blackjack.” Buck says. “It’s just strange to see them on friendly terms.” The words do nothing to soothe the uneasiness that Hunter has been mulling over in his mind. Tech lets out an inquisitive sound of his own, sharing a look with Hunter. 

They traverse down the side of a steep canyon, getting closer and closer to your tracker. Once the canyon levels out into a much rockier version of this planet’s interwoven flora, they come across an odd rock formation. It doesn’t look like much at first. Jagged edges sprouting from the ground, sloped at a somewhat steep angle. A much smoother section of rock lies front and center, woven and interlocked with old growth. 

Hunter can hear your heartbeat now. It's a relief. Or it would be, if it weren’t coming from inside.

You’re cold. Really, really cold. The ground underneath you is damp and hard, and you wince as you push yourself up. Something wet is dripping down your face, and you wipe at it mindlessly. Your head hurts.

You don’t remember blacking out. The vines had been dragging you away, through all the rock and sticks and leaves, and now you were here. You feel woozy, eyes blinking open slowly as you try to adjust to the darkness around you. You’re in a cave, you think. You shift your feet, feeling around your ankles with your hand, and find that the vines are gone. The skin is sore, and you try not to be too harsh as you feel around the area. If it wasn’t straight up sprained, it was definitely going to bruise. It would be easier to tell if you could see. Your hand immediately goes to your belt, before you remember that there’s nothing there. Instead, you fish through your pockets, thankful to find that you still have a flashlight at the very least. 

The light flickers as you blink it on, lighting the surrounding area if only by a little bit. Dark grey rock surrounds you, splotched by moss and green growth in places. You were definitely in a cave. You take a centering breath, trying to quell any panic. You hadn’t been eaten yet, so that was a bonus. But how long had you been out? You feel around your clothes, relieved when you find that the tracker that Tech and put on you was still there. They had to be finding you soon. But as you search around, you don’t see any signs of daylight. You start to think that there’s no openings either, until you come across a tunnel.

It’s not horribly small. Almost 6 feet tall and three feet wide if you were to guess, but it still felt somewhat cramped. You stand, wincing as you try to put weight on your ankle. Okay, so it’s definitely sprained. You limp a few careful steps forward as you shine the light inside of the opening. The tunnel slopes downwards, going back a little ways before it curves. The tunnel should feel unsettling, but there's that familiar pull at the back of your mind again. It draws all your focus to the end of that tunnel, urging you to follow, follow, follow. You should stay right here, waiting for the others. But your instincts say otherwise. You look around once more, searching the floor for anything you may have dropped. You find nothing. You search for any signs of daylight again, too, finding nothing as well.

You don’t know what to do. The pull tugs at you a little stronger. You sigh. Fine. Might as well check it out.

The tunnel is unremarkable. A rounded hallway of stone. There are no markings. No smudges. Nothing but the occasional moss and greenery, same as before. But you just can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’re supposed to find something in here. The tunnel twists and turns as it lures you deeper within the planet’s surface, until something gives you pause.

Was that light?

You turn your flashlight off for a second, and coming from another turn up ahead, there's the faint warm glow of lamplight. You hold your breath, quiet murmurs beginning to reach your ears. You follow the light, and find a lamp hanging by the wall. It’s small, and digital. Not a flame like you would have expected at first. Even stranger, it’s republic gear. Not just any random lamp. 

Go further. 

You continue on down the tunnel. Finding more lamps like the one before, although sparingly. Murmurs become louder and louder, until the tunnel dips steeply. You can see it open up a little down there, and once you traverse the steep terrain, you see something you never would have expected.

It’s another camp. 

Although this one has no tents, or flamethrowers, or even a firepit, it’s… occupied. The white and green armor of General Tarja’s clone troopers catches your eye immediately. And there are twice as many soldiers down here than you had seen at Blackjack’s camp. You can’t help but gasp, and multiple heads turn towards you. The troopers raise their blasters at the new face, pointing them directly at you.

“Wait!” A woman’s voice calls out. Someone steps out between troopers, setting a hand on the blaster of one as she directs him to lower it. It’s General Tarja. 

“Lower your blasters. She’s one of us.”

“This is stupid.” 

Hunter’s breathing is even but shallow. His fists are clenched, anger holding a grip around his throat like it was about to wring his neck. His arms are sore from the collective effort to move the smooth rock that was blocking the entrance to this thing that Blackjack was so concerned about. Blocking the entrance to you. They had tried pushing it. Pulling it. Burning the growth around it to possibly weaken the structure. All this effort. All of this work from himself, his brothers, and Blackjack’s men, and the commander was just standing there, watching them with that indecipherable aura about him. 

Nothing that they had done had worked. Even Tech has said at one point that it was fruitless. The rock was several tons heavier than the seven troopers combined, and they were better off mapping the caves in the area and finding another way in. 

He had looked to Hunter then, and Hunter could not respond. The thick weave of energy signals on this planet had only gotten harder for him to decipher. They were thick before, sure, but it was like they all converged in this spot in the multitudes. The tangled web had become an unforgiving knot. He could try to Find another way in with the help of Tech and Cross, sure. But what would have taken him minutes would take the three of them an hour. And he didn’t know if you had that much time.

“I told you we should have brought the big one.” Rummy says to Blackjack, who nods back in agreement. The big one. They were the ones who injured him in the first place, and they couldn’t even bother to remember Wrecker’s name. 

“Let’s go back and get him, them.” Blackjack says. Almost every head snaps to his direction. Crosshair begins to walk towards the commander, most likely about to do something stupid, but Hunter holds a hand out, stopping him. 

“Wrecker is staying right where he is.” Hunter seethes, jaw clenched. Blackjack has no clear reaction to Hunter’s words. 

“And here I thought you actually wanted to save your medic.” Soot says, stepping forward. The words fuel that burning anger inside of Hunter, and it takes all of his restraint not to walk forward and knock that fucking bucket off of Soot’s head. Buck and the other troopers are looking around nervously. The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“Wrecker is wounded. If we need to find another way in, we’ll find one.” Hunter grits out. “I’m not risking the life of my medic by wasting time by going back to get him, and I’m not putting his life in danger by bringing him here either.” Hunter slowly moves forward as he says the words, standing off against Blackjack with less than a foot of space between them. Tech reaches out, taking hold of Hunter’s shoulder and pulling him back a bit. The movement is practiced and familiar, Tech trying to de-escalate the situation before it starts to get out of hand for everyone. 

“Hunter is correct.” Tech starts. “Wrecker is hardly well enough to stand. I’ve been trying to map the surrounding area, and if we-”

“Are you resisting orders, Sergeant?” Blackjack interrupts, ignoring Tech. Hunter narrows his eyes beneath his visor. 

“Watch it, Commander.” Crosshair spits, words practically oozing venom. If there was one thing about the bad batch, you didn’t fuck with those that they call their own. And Blackjack? He was on his last strike. 

“You’ve been putting my team in danger since we landed on this planet, Blackjack. I’m not going to continue to risk their lives just because you say so.” Hunter says, shrugging off Tech’s hand. Blackjack only stares. 

Hunter hears as the faint sound of your heartbeat picks up once again, much faster than before. This was taking too much time. Hunter is about to back off, knowing that this little altercation of theirs was only wasting the precious time that you had left- but something makes him freeze. Blackjack is odd- unnerving, even, but here, face to face like this, something finally clicks in Hunter’s mind. Stretch, expand, retract. The sound of breathing, of lungs moving, and organs adjusting. Hunter had heard it time and time again. Air rushing through the body with every inhale. It’s like a shot of ice in his veins when Hunter finally finds himself focusing on Blackjack- and he realises that he can’t hear him breathing. 

“You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry.” Blackjack says, taking a step back from Hunter. Hunter is still trying to make sense of it all, too confused and on edge to be relieved that the commander was stepping down from the fight. 

Blackjack makes a move for his blaster, but the batch is quicker. Crosshair is the first to pull out his pistol, Hunter and Tech follow. Blackjack already has his aim fixed on Hunter, with Soot and Rummy right behind him, blasters at the ready. No one shoots. Not yet. 

“Commander, what are you doing?!” Buck demands. Blackjack does not respond. His gaze is fixed on Hunter. Emotionless. Unfeeling. Dead. Hunter clenches his jaw, the sickly feeling of dread worming it’s way into his stomach once again. He didn’t know why, or how, but the more he thinks about it the more it makes sense. Blackjack’s odd way of talking. The way he carries himself. Rummy and Soot. None of them are right. If he focuses, he can hear the breathing and the heartbeats of the other soldiers. But not the three that stand before him, blasters raised.

“Pick up your blasters, Soldiers.” Blackjack commands. The other three soldiers in the battalion look uneasy, their grip falling to their blasters, but not raising them. Not yet. They look to Buck, instead, who’s still standing in defiance. 

“Sir, stop this! These are fellow soldiers of the republic, our own damn brothers!” Buck’s tone is angry. Desperate for his commander to hear him. Hunter is trying to plan a way out of this in every second they waist arguing.

“Ignore him. Pick Up. Your. Blasters.” Blackjack demands, once again. Soot and Rummy never flinch. The other solders are stagnant, unsure of what to do- But Blackjack does not wait for them to follow orders. He goes for the trigger.

“No!” Buck lunges forward- pushing the nose of the blaster down as it fires into the ground. Chaos is instant. They break out into a fight over the blaster. Rummy and Soot fire, Hunter and Tech ducking and rolling out of the way as Crosshair takes the moment to fire his pistol. He hits both soldiers with one shot, and they go down immediately. One of the sane soldiers raises his blaster to shoot in retaliation. Another pushes him, yelling at him to stand down. The last of the three simply watches. Buck cocks his elbow up, hitting Blackjack in the chin and knocking his helmet loose in the process. The commander shakes off the helmet, snarling at Buck as the soldier finally gets the upper hand. Buck wrenches the blaster from Blackjack, using it against him as he slams the butt of the blaster back into the plastiod armor of the commander’s abdomen. He pulls the gun free, and Blackjack stumbles back. The commander trips over a root as he does so- and falls backwards. The back of his head slams into a rock when he hits the ground, ending it all with a sickening crunch. 

Everything freezes then, the metallic scent of old blood and rot reaching Hunter’s nose. Buck remains in place, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He looks on, horrified, at the sunken face of his Commander. His brother. 

“Blackjack?” Buck calls out. The body on the ground does not respond. Hunter feels a smidge of guilt, almost pitying the sight before him. He glances back at his own brothers, making sure that Tech and Cross had gotten out of the altercation unharmed, before approaching the grief-stricken Buck. He sets a hand on the soldier’s pauldron, opening his mouth to comfort him, before a rustling in the grass stops him. 

There’s a shout from one of the remaining clones. Tech calls out Hunter’s name in a warning, and he turns in time to watch as Rummy and Soot sit up, twitchy as they rise to their feet. 

Blackjack is not that far behind them.

Buck takes a step back, bumping into Hunter as the fallen commander rolls over. He pushes himself up to his feet- head slumped over at an odd angle, the skin of his neck stretching to accommodate the oddly placed weight. Blackjack turns slowly. His face is pale, sunken in a way that Hunter had not noticed during the fight. His eyes are cloudy, face limp. The commander reaches up, taking hold of his face and lifting it as he snaps his own head back into place. He begins to gurgle, like he’s trying to speak but can’t remember how. Buck looks on in horror.

“That’s not Blackjack.“

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Ch 3: Rest and Repairs - part 2

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader - Slow burn, eventual smut. Sorry again for the two part chapter guys, Like I said before, I may have gone a bit too hard on this chapter lol. Hope you enjoy!

Tws: Unwanted flirting, One rando clone is bastard, Paranoia, anxiety, Invasion of privacy (room is broken into), let me know if I should add anything else.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter (Coming soon)

“It’s your funeral.” Cross mumbles, loud enough for everyone to hear. The clone that had lost against Crosshair when you came in walks over to hand you his rifle, seeing that you didn’t exactly stop by the armory on the way here. Half of the group looks confident, cheering you on. The other half looks like they’re already mourning their cash. 

“Our credits are in your hands.” The loser from before says, smiling a little nervously as you take the blaster from him. 

“I’ll do my best,” You reply, winking at them playfully. He blushes, suddenly bashful as he steps back in line with his brothers. You’re not really paying too much attention to him, though. They always say to keep your eyes on the prize, and your prize isn’t credits. You want to win solely because it would forever annoy the shit out of Crosshair. 

“Are you done talking?” Cross asks once you sit down. You have a shit-eating grin plastered across your face. You were done talking, alright. The two of you flip a credit to decide who goes first. Crosshair wins, exuding confidence as he takes aim. Someone presses an activation button, and the range lets out a series of whirs as targets are mechanically propped up back into place. 

Crosshair takes the shot almost immediately after the targets are finally still. Two targets fall, exactly like you expected. He leans back, nodding at you to take your turn. You smile the whole time as you take your aim with the rifle. You relax your shoulders, holding the blaster in a firm grip, careful not to hold on too tight. You correct your posture again and look through the scope. You take a deep breath in, scanning the layout ahead as you find the perfect spot. 

There it is.

You exhale, pulling the trigger. Two targets fall. You let go of the blaster, leaning back in your chair as you look at Cross. His jaw is clenched, face a mix of surprise and annoyance. You can hear the clones behind you erupt in cheers. 

“Next round?” You ask teasingly. Crosshair lets out a huff, shifting the toothpick in his mouth. He picks up the credit, flipping it again. Heads. It’s his turn again. 

One shot. Three targets fall. Your turn again. 

You let your hands guide you instead of your brain. You take aim, the scope telling you when it feels right. You’re not expecting to make the shot, but hey, you won’t know unless you try. Inhale. Exhale. Trigger.

One shot. Three targets fall. You’ve tied again. 

The men behind you celebrate again, even louder this time. Crosshair curses, ignoring you when you turn to him with that grin once again. Oh, this was so very worth it. The credit flips again, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s still going because of the bet, or because of his pride. Regardless, the credit lands on tails this time. You’re up first.

You hear a few cheers and words of encouragement from behind you as you take the shot this time. You had no idea how you were going to hit four targets. You barely even understand how you were able to hit the last three. You take the shot. It hits three targets, and the last shot ricochets unexpectedly. You clip the edge of a fourth one. The men beyond you are trying to stay quiet, but you can hear excited whispers from them. 

Crosshair takes his toothpick out. He ignores the cheers from behind him and doesn't wait for the targets to reset before he pulls the trigger. The flash of light that was the bolt bounces around from place ot place, ricocheting off the targets one after another. He sits back with a satisfied smile. Eight targets fall.

The room goes dead silent. Until you let out a loud laugh, that is. Conversation between the regs picks back up, and you lean over to swat at Crosshair playfully.

“Done with your dick measuring contest?” You tease, well aware that he could have hit that shot at any time. He only pulled that trick out because you were keeping up with him. 

“You’re not a half-bad shot.” He replies. “But you’re not as good as me.” He begins packing up his rifle, and you hand the one that you were given back to the clone you borrowed it from. Once Crosshair finishes and stands up again, you stand in his way. He raises an eyebrow, but you simply hold your hand out. Sucker. He forgot the bet, didn’t he?

“I beat you.” He says curtly. You shake your head at him, holding your hand out even more insistently. 

“That wasn’t my bet.” You tell him, “I said I would make it to the third round, not win it.” You feel devious as Crosshair grumbles, angrily shoving his former winnings into your outstretched hand. You turn around to the group of clones behind you, who celebrate and pat you on the shoulder as you approach them.

“Here.” You say, picking up about half the credits and handing them. Credits, having technically lost his bet, takes his original offering over to hand it to a grumpy Crosshair. Everyone else, however, cheers you on again, patting you on the back before leaving.

You walk back over to Cross as the door shuts behind the clones. He gives you a pretty pissed-off glare as you approach him, but you pay it no mind. 

“Taking my money was enough, and then you had to give it back to those idiots?” He grumbles. You roll your eyes at him. Holding out the rest of the credits. You didn’t really need them anyway, and after realising just how much he had actually won in the first place, you felt a little bad for winning them from him. But only a little. 

“Just take it.” You say. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. It’s good to know that his pride has limits, after all. You were honestly expecting him to reject your offer.

“Looks like you do more than just sit on your ass after all.” He says, taking the credit from you. Your chest feels a little lighter. Shaak Ti was right, you think. You just need to give them some time. You can hear the whoosh of a door opening behind you, and when you glance that way, it’s Hunter who’s entered. He’s in his armor, helmet in his arm. 

“Don’t tell me you roped the medic into this, Cross.” He says. There's a bench and a small line of lockers on the far side of the room, opposing the firing range. Hunter is sweaty, his breathing a little elevated. He opens one of the lockers and grabs a towel, using it to dab the sweat off. It’s only then that you remember that the door he just came through is the door to the combat training grounds. Hunter. The man with a still fractured rib from Elita-12. Hunter, the man who aggravated the area with your little chase from last week. Hunter, who you gave a physical exam THIS MORNING on the marauder, and specifically told him that he was NOT cleared for any heavy workouts or intensive training until after it had fully healed. You may be a good shot, but you’re an even better medic. And they needed to start listening to you for once.

Crosshair says something from next to you, but you don’t hear a word of it. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You say, crossing your arms. Hunter gives you a look of confusion. 

“Training. What does it look like?” He says, already walking back over to the control panel that sets the area and difficulty for each round of training. “Crosshair, you joining me this time?” 

“No. He’s not.” You interrupt before Crosshair can get a chance to respond. Cross only raises his eyebrows, placing a toothpick back between his teeth.

“Hunter, did you just forget the results of your physical, or what?” You ask bluntly. Hunter squares his shoulders, turning back to face you. His body language is casual, but you can see that he’s getting defensive. This probably isn’t a conversation you should be having around Cross, but maybe if Hunter followed orders, you wouldn’t have to be.

“No. I heard you loud and clear.” He replies.

“Right. Then what part of ‘no intensive training’ did you not understand?” You ask again. Crosshair begins to laugh. Hunter bites the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t disagree with you. Your heart is beating a million times a minute, and you don’t remember confrontation like this being so anxiety-inducing. It’s probably (definitely) because the person you’re reprimanding is your sergeant, but you’re not going to back down. You honestly think that he’s about to walk back into the training grounds anyway, but he doesn’t.

“Okay,” is all he says, walking over to drop his towel into the laundry shoot. “I hear you.” That’s… surprising.

 “It’s good to know Hunter doesn’t mind being put in his place.” Crosshair snarks, earning an elbow from Hunter when he’s close enough. He actually listened. Who would have known?

After the little event in the training rooms, you end up at the mess with Hunter and Crosshair. You really hated the mess. It’s not the food that you mind, more so the attention. 

They really need to start teaching these guys manners before they hit the battlefield. 

Even just in line for food, you can feel the heat of stares on your back. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s uncomfortable. It’s frustrating. Not once have you ever seen these men treat or stare at the Jedi this way, but you suppose that’s more of a rank thing than anything else. Once you get your food, you try to figure out where the others were sitting, but even with the stark contrast of the Batch’s armor, it’s hard ot find them with how busy the mess can be.

“Hey, medic!” Someone calls out when you pass by. It’s that group of clones from earlier.

“Looking for a place to sit?” Credits asks with a cocky smile on his face. They seemed nice and all, but you really don’t know them. The thought of sitting with someone new made you a little nervous. 

“I’m good, thanks.” You reply politely.

“We don’t bite, promise.” Another says, and you think that he’s the one who lost to Crosshair earlier.

“Speak for yourself, Chomper.” Someone else retorts, pushing him. Ah, the punchy one. You remember him, too. Chomper laughs shyly. You smile, finding their dynamic cute. Still, it didn’t change the fact that you were going to sit with your own team. You can see Hunter coming towards you, a tray in his hands.

“Table’s this way.” He says smoothly, passing by. What was left of your anxiety from this whole situation melts away now that you finally have an out. Chomper, Punchy, and their other brothers look disappointed as you wave at them, saying goodbye politely. Credits is the only one who remains unfazed as you leave, a smirk still on his face.

Did he just wink at you? Ugh, no. Not dealing with it. At least the others seem sweet. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, sitting down next to Hunter when you get to the table. Hunter only nods, glancing back at the table from before. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hunter mumbles. Crosshair only rolls his eyes before starting to eat his food, and suddenly, you’re aware of a pretty big gap at the table.

“I can imagine where Tech is, but where’s Wrecker?” You ask. Hunter shrugs, blowing on a spoonful of hot soup to cool it down.

“He’s with Tech, back in the barracks.” He tells you. You blink at him. Not really understanding. 

“Wrecker. Your brother, Wrecker. The big one. He skipped out on the mess?” You ask again. Hunter looks at Crosshair, and they both shrug. Uh. okay. 

“Is he sick?!” The question comes out much more instantly than the previous ones. You think you catch Hunter crack a small smile.

“Wrecker’s just involved with what he’s doing. It happens sometimes. Once he gets it out of his system, he’ll be fine.” Hunter says. 

“After storming the mess kitchen, maybe.” Crosshair retorts from across you. It’s not entirely out of character for him, you imagine, but Wrecker is a unit of a man. You’ve never seen him turn down a meal. The medical training in you wonder if he’d be able to make up the calories he needs to sustain all of that muscle. 

Conversation comes and goes while you’re at the mess, and once you finish your plate, you begin to wonder just what exactly you should do afterwards. You could always try resting again, but you don’t really want to. You could always check on R-6, as you’re sure Tech had to have made more than a few repairs at this point.

There's an unexpected tap on your shoulder. It’s Credits,  from earlier. He followed you over here. Great. Not creepy at all.

“Are you done chatting with these rejects?” He asks with confidence. You feel Hunter stiffen beside you, and you don’t even have to see Crosshair to know his reaction. 

“No, actually. I enjoy spending time with my team.” -sometimes, at least, but you weren’t going to tell him that. Credits’ smirk remains in place, and he leans an arm onto the tabletop next to you. 

“I’m sure I’d be a lot more fun to spend time with, trust me.” He says. You have to remind yourself not to show your disgust too much, but you’re probably failing at it. Credits have got the attention of Hunter and Cross at this point, and you can feel their displeasure at this guy being here in the first place- even if he wasn’t trying to flirt with you. The two of them are pulled taut like a bowstring, waiting for their chance to snap.

“I’m good. Thanks.” You say it bluntly this time. Credits doesn't move an inch, but you can see the annoyance beginning to creep into his face.

“Oh come on, you won’t regret it once we make it back to my bunk-”

“Is there a problem?” Hunter asks, sounding pissed. You think he’s talking to Credits at first, until you realise that he’s talking to you. You look at him, shaking your head. Whatever this guy was trying to pull, you could handle it. The last thing you want is for things to escalate

“Oh, I see how it is.” Credits says, pushing off the table top. What was he on about now? His smirk has finally dropped, but you can still see a small quirk in his lips. Multiple clones have turned their attention to whatever kind of situation this is, and you’re both thankful and surprised that you didn't have the attention of the whole GAR by now.

“Don’t worry, I know a claim when I see one.” He says, starting to walk away. “Besides, I’m not a fan of sloppy seconds anyway. Everyone knows she’s already slept with the whole freakshow.” You know he’s just reacting badly because you turned him down, but you can’t help but still feel a little hurt by the accusation. Is that really what everyone thinks of you? You’ve been here for little less than a month. 

Hunter shoots up from next to you, and before you know it, he’s socked Credits right in the face. 

If you didn’t have the attention of the GAR before, you certainly have it now. Hunter has started a fistfight, and you recognise Punchy as he comes to defend his brother. Crosshair is quicker, though, chucking a cup straight at his head before hopping the table, throwing a few punches of his own.

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Both of you are idiots.” You feel as if you’ve never spoken truer words. After the galaxy’s most outnumbered boxing match in the mess, eventually everyone backed down a bit. Only after Shaak Ti came in threatening demotion or assigning a 4-hour-long class on de-escalation, though. You walked Hunter and Crosshair back to the Barracks, and although they certainly didn’t lose the fight, they didn’t come back unscathed. Tech, Wrecker, and R-6, were nowhere to be found, surprisingly. You weren’t worried, though. You’re actually pretty glad that you didn’t have to explain why their brothers are scuffed up, or how the fistfight started- not yet, at the very least. 

“You mean one of us is an idiot.” Crosshair seethes from his bunk, you having patched him up first. Hunter only sighs. He’s sat at the table, facing outward as you clean the small cuts and wounds on his face. 

“Did you expect me to just let him walk away after that?” Hunter asks. 

“No.” Crosshair snorts.

“Yes.” You reply, before sending Crosshair a small glare that he ignores. You shake your head, gloved hands reaching for the steri-strips from the medikit that lay open on the table. Hunter’s got a busted lip, a cut on his forehead, and various other small wounds across his face. You still feel conflicted about the whole thing. On one hand, Hunter and Cross had stuck up for you. The thought of it makes you feel a little fluttery, happy to see that things were changing and that they cared. On the other hand, to everyone else’s eyes, they started a fistfight over a girl. You weren’t worried about being fired or sent away- no one had the power to do that, save for a select few- but regardless, gossip complicates things. Especially here. 

“I don’t think that I should have to explain to you why you should know better… but thank you.” You mumble, tilting Hunter’s chin up for a better angle. “I didn’t even think you guys liked me all that much, to be honest.” There’s a moment of silence, and you can see the sergeant thinking it over. 

“You’re growing on us,” Hunter says, wincing a just a little as you place the last Steri-strip. The words surprise you a little. You’re not really sure how to respond.

“Speak for yourself,” Crosshair says. You snort, glancing over at him with a smile that you can’t bite back. Hunter chuckles, too. You take a step back, taking off your gloves and starting to pack up the medkit. Hunter begins to stand up, but winces as he does. He straightens up immediately, but not before you catch it. You run your tongue over your teeth in annoyance, looking at him with raised eyebrows. Hunter only frowns. That fractured rib wouldn’t be hurting so bad if he had listened to you in the first place, now would it?

“I don’t think I have to say a word.” You sigh casually, turning your attention back to the medkit. Hunter chuffs a laugh, walking back to his bunk. 

Around the same time, the door to the barracks opens, and Tech steps inside, Wrecker lingering in the doorway.

“Ah, good, you’re all here,” Tech says. “I’ve made the necessary repairs to R-6G3R, along with a few more modifications and improvements. I was also able to recover the locational data log from his backup servers.” He walks over to the table, setting some of his things down, before his eyes drift to you and the medkit, Hunter, Crosshair, and then back at Hunter.

“Why are you injured?” He asks. You shake your head at him.

“Don’t worry about it. Where’s R-6?” You ask. Tech tilts his head at Wrecker, who has the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face. He perks up when he has everyone's attention, still standing a little awkwardly in the doorway, like he was trying to hide something behind him. 

“Ahem.” Wrecker clears his throat, standing at attention. You can already see that he’s got something ridiculous and goofy planned. “May I present our new and improved, Roger!” He finishes, stepping aside from the doorway. R-6 is frozen for a moment, letting out a small sound of confusion before he seems to realise suddenly that that was his cue. He lets out a delighted cry, dramatically racing forward with- a lit flamethrower?!  You cover your mouth, unsure whether or not you should be concerned or laugh at the way the little droid spins around, showing off his new duds. He doesn’t burn anything (you think), stopping just short of the various messes in the barracks before turning the flame off. Wrecker is letting out the most genuine laugh you think you’ve ever heard, finally closing the door behind him as he walks over to affectionately rub the droid on the head. 

“That was more than we agreed on, Wrecker.” Tech says, displeased. Wrecker only smiles wider, if that was even possible. You think you’re still in shock. Aside from the obvious new modification, they've repainted R-6 as well. Or Wrecker did, at least. What was once just sleek black and silver has new red and grey highlights and details, with a 99 and a skull on the side of his head. 

“You named  it?” Crosshair says, the first one to speak up. Wrecker nods proudly.

“A string of numbers is not a name.” He rumbles. “R-6G-whatever is a mouthful. And it sucks.” R-6  lets out an offended complaint, but you're not so sure Wrecker speaks binary. So it flies over his head.

“So you named him Roger?” Hunter asks. You can't help but giggle a little.

“Roger, as in Roger-Roger? Like the battle droids?” You ask. Wrecker nods. Tech shakes his head.

“It’s just a coincidence. R-6G3R is a partial numeronym of the name Roger. I suggested it, and Roger was pleased with the idea.”  Tech explains. Roger does, in fact, agree with him as he says it. Almost a little bashful. While the flamethrower was …a choice, you were happy that the droid was gaining some confidence. 

“Don't think that this means we're keeping him,” Hunter speaks up. Wrecker immediately starts arguing in his defense. Brotherly bickering. You try not to let it remind you of the long-forgotten past. 

Your evening spent with the boys was nice.

When you get back to your quarters, something is off. 

Your medbag has been opened. Its contents strewn about your bed. 

Fuck. Fuck. Your heart kickstarts, an icy shot of fear rushing through your body. You’re quick to close and lock the door that you were so sure that you had locked when you left. Don't panic. You can't panic.

Bandages, sutures, sanitized needles still in their packages. It was a mess. But that's not what you're worried about. You grab the bag, pouring out what was left of the contents inside. The false bottom is still in place, but the thought doesn't comfort you. You yank it out of the bag, quickly grabbing the black box that lies underneath it.

It's still heavy. The lock is still in place. Still, for your own peace of mind, you open it. Risks be damned. 

It's still there. 

A wave of relief washes over you, but as you quickly close the box and lock it back, anxiety and fear remain. You open your comms to send a message, but hesitate. 

You can't raise the alarm yet. If someone found you out, you would know by now.

You don't sleep that night.

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Ch 3: Rest and Repairs

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader - Slow burn, eventual smut. Sorry that this is a day late! I realized that with how long these chapters have started to become, I needed to change my posting schedule to every other Monday. I will admit, though, I really think that ya'll will agree that the wait was worth it. This one is a biggin. like, ridiculously big. as in I hit the character limit big. If ya'll prefer to read it all together, you can find an uninterrupted chapter on my AO3! Otherwise, Tumblr users yall are getting a split chapter, sorry. Tws: Unwanted flirting, One rando clone is bastard, Paranoia, anxiety, Invasion of privacy (room is broken into). Fistfights, sexual innuendos, and derogatory comments. Once again, minor injuries.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next Part

You think you’ve made a new friend. Well, kind of. It would help if he weren’t roped and tied up, but it’ll do. 

You’re being hauled back to the marauder in the truck bed of an industrial farming speeder, due to the kindness of one of the farmers on this planet. R-6 sits between you and Wrecker, anxiously looking around. He speaks to you occasionally, but hasn’t given you or Tech anything other than his name. Every time you pry for something more, he locks up like he was programmed that way. For all you know, he very well was. 

“Did we really have to bring it along?” Crosshair asks pointedly at Hunter, who sits across from you, arms folded. No one is particularly happy about the droid being there- save for Wrecker, you guess. 

“His name, is R6-G3R.” You say, “-and at the moment, he’s our only lead.” Crosshair huffs at that, sitting back in his seat between Hunter and Tech. Hunter only shrugs in a ‘what can you do’ sort of manner, a displeased look on his face. 

“I think it’ll be fun to have him on the Marauder. I always thought that Gonky could use a friend.” Wrecker cheers, patting the R-6 on his head affectionately- if a little heavy-handed. The R-6 lets out a string of small complaints at Wrecker’s roughness, which only makes Wrecker laugh. Tech hums, putting his datapad away. He’d been looking at maps of Leetu’s underground waterways since the moment you’d gotten in the truck, to no avail. The waterways were so condensed and connected that there was very little possible way to figure out where that woman had gone, or if she might even still be on the planet. Regardless, it didn’t seem like she’d be coming back for R-6, anyway. 

“Access to his memory is all we really need, Wrecker.” Tech hums. “Truthfully, we don't even have to take him onto the marauder. We can simply extract the data from the droid and leave it here,” R-6 lets out a small yelp at that, turning back to you with a look you could only describe as pure panic. You would have thought it funny if you didn’t know that Tech was being 100% serious. 

“Seems cold for you, Tech -but I agree,” Hunter says, sitting up a little bit. Crosshair nods, agreeing with them both. You make a face. You can’t believe that they’re seriously considering just abandoning the droid, but you’re not really surprised about it. 

“Well, we can’t just leave him. He doesn’t have anywhere to go.” You interject quickly. “Hunter, you saw that woman speed off without him. And it’s not like our original target will be taking care of anyone, dead.” 

“I agree. Seems cruel to leave him behind on a planet he probably isn’t even from.” Wrecker nods. Seems everyone’s at an Impasse, them. Three votes leave him, three votes keep him. R-6 clearly doesn't want to be left, but you’re not sure his vote counts at the moment.

“Aren’t you a bleeding heart.” Crosshair teases Wrecker, who reaches over to playfully punch him in the shoulder, not so lightly. When you finally look down at R-6 to check on him, you notice he’s almost… shaking. 

You had noticed that the little guy was clearly the easily frightened type, but looking at him now, he’s terrified. Sure, the way that his presumed owner had been treating him was cruel, and despite how disgusted you were by her then and now, you’re sure that it can’t be easy for him. Left behind by the person he thought he could rely on. Kidnapped by people who were currently debating about taking him apart and leaving him in the dust.

R-6 looks at you, big shiny optics pleading for help. You place a hand on top of his head to calm his shaking. Maybe the two of you are more alike than you thought. He beeps at you frantically, asking if they were going to scrap him for parts. You smile at him, reassuringly. 

“It’s okay.” You say quietly. “Tech’s not going to scrap you.” He might take away R-6’s scomp link or any hidden weapons, but you decide not to tell him that for right now. The droid seems to calm down a bit, and you feel better after helping him. 

When you look up, Hunter is staring at you. There’s a spark of nervousness in you, but you let it go. You’re not doing anything wrong by helping someone- or something- in need. You can see in his face that he’s cherning something over. You smile at him, too. Almost pleading on behalf of the droid. Hunter lets out a deep sigh, then, shaking his head in resignation.

“...Fine. But he won’t be staying for long.” Hunter says. You and Wrecker cheer, hi-fiving as you celebrate the win. You can practically hear Crosshair roll his eyes, and Tech simply shrugs, not caring either way. When you look back at Hunter, you mouth a thank you. He nods, looking away.

The speeder rumbles to a stop when you get back to the marauder. Hunter thanks the farmer for taking you this far while the rest of you gather your things and hop out- and Wrecker is quick to haul R-6 into his arms, carrying him onto the ship. R-6 swivels his head around to look at you, both baffled and offended by the action. 

“We’ll untie you when you get in the marauder, I promise.” You tell him. R-6 whines, but says no more than that. 

Once everyone’s on the marauder, you sit next to R-6 as Tech takes a look at him. R-6 isn’t happy about having his scomplink taken away, but stops resisting after you spend an unfortunate amount of time reassuring him that he would, in fact, get it back eventually. Seeing the droid with a closer look… He’s a lot more beat up than you had thought at first glance. Bumps, dents, and scratches lay beneath his maintained coat of black paint. You speak binary, sure, but you don’t know a whole lot about the maintenance that droids require. Tech, on the other hand, is thorough and practiced as he removes any would-be weapons from the droid- or what was left of would-be weapons, at least. 

“For a relatively newer model of R series, he’s incredibly damaged.” Tech states, wrist deep in R-6’s metal innards. At this point, you think he may be a little excessive with the examination, but he knows what he’s doing, at least. 

“What do you mean? Like his shell?” You ask. Tech shakes his head, closing R-6 up. 

“He’s missing the magnetic stabilizers in his treading, along with multiple of his utility arms.” He begins, standing. He takes a cord that's hooked up to his datapad, and attaches it to the memory port on R-6’s head.

“He needs to be topped off with coolant. His entire ventilation system needs replacing. Even his exhaust is having issues.” You grimace at that, and R-6 lets out a sad-sounding beep. 

“So it’s useless,” Crosshair speaks up, and you send him a dirty look.

“He’s not useless.” You, say, standing up. You take a moment to stretch, a little achy after having sat on the ground for longer than you really thought you had. Tech is being oddly quiet over his datapad.

“...Right tech?” You ask, looking for a little reassurance. But reassurance is not what you get.

“Odd.” He mumbles to himself. “His data chip has been wiped. Not just recently, but I’m finding records of this being a consistent pattern.” That’s… not good. 

“Can you recover anything at all?” Hunter asks, standing from his seat. He walks over, standing next to you to look at the droid. You feel like the air has been let out of your chest. The only reason you had taken him back to the marauder in the first place was that you couldn’t get him to talk back at that garage. You never thought that it might have been because he truly didn’t know the answers to the questions you were asking him. 

“I have the past 26 hours of his memory, which should give us names at the very least. There’s a possibility I might be able to restore the rest of the data and repair his locational memory, but the only issue is that I don’t have what I need to complete the task here on the Marauder.” Tech says, flipping through the data on his holopad casually. Hunter lets out a long sigh.

“Well, we’re going back to Kamino anyway, right?” Wrecker speaks up. He comes over to stand next to you, peering over at R-6, who’s been silent since Tech started going over the needed repairs. 

“Brilliant idea, Wrecker. Let’s bring a Separatist droid into the clone homeworld.” Crosshair retorts. Could he be any less of an asshole? You weren’t sure he was capable of it. Hunter makes a noise of agreement.

“Cross has got a point. We won’t be able to get him past clearance.” He says. The rest of the conversation begins to fade out as you look at R-6. Even as damaged as he was, you feel like it was too late to back out now. You can’t just drop him off. You can’t give him back, either. You’re not even sure that he wants to go back. 

You’re hit by a sudden wave of clarity. 

“Just tell them he’s mine.” You speak up. You’re unsure of how long you had been silent, but the sound of your voice is enough to catch everyone’s attention. Hunter and Tech look at eachother for a moment. You can see a moment of inner debate, before Tech nods slightly.

“...That could work. It’s not unheard of for outsiders to bring their droids in.” He says. Hunter turns his head to meet your gaze. You don’t know why you’re advocating for this droid so hard. You just… feel like it’s the right thing to do. But at the end of the day, it’s Hunter’s decision as Sargent. 

“Okay.”

R-6 does not want to go into the barracks.

Kamino has not changed.  Still dreary, still rainy, still smells like disinfectant. But hey, at least you won’t have to sleep in the marauder tonight. R-6 is rather skittish in this new place, but you really can’t blame him. His head is on a constant swivel, and you try not to laugh at him when he bumps into things. He can’t help it, poor thing. The only issue was that for Tech to finish his repairs, he would have to enter the batch’s barracks. And he was not budging. 

“Come on, R-6! We’re not going to bite!” Wrecker cheers, already strewn across his bunk. R-6 shakes his head at him insistently, not budging an inch. You let out a sigh. When you had landed on Kamino, R-6 had stuck to you like a tick, following close behind you wherever you went. The only issue? You don’t share the barracks with the batch. You have a guest quarters on the far side of the base, and R-6 was not going anywhere without you. 

“R-6, it’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise.” You reassure him. He is not having it. He lets out a long string of whirs and beeps, complaining about how messy it was, how bad it smelled, how he shouldn’t have to stay somewhere so filthy- and through all of his anxiety and fear, you think you’re starting to his his personality come out a bit more. 

“Still think we should have brought him along?” Hunter asks, leaning against the doorway. He’s actually smiling a little, and you let out a huff through your nose.

“I don't know. If he keeps this up, maybe not.” You tease back. Wrong move. R-6 violently swivels around to look at you in shock, and you can almost see the nonexistent tears in his optics. Backpedal, backpedal!

“I’m just kidding, R-6!” You say quickly. He turns away from you, looking sad once again, and you sigh. Your shoulders slump, exhausted from how long it’s taking to get this stubborn droid to listen to you. You look back up at Hunter, who looks entirely too entertained at the situation at hand. What great help he is. You look back down at the droid and feel bad for him. As stubborn as he is, you know he’s just scared. 

“Look, little guy.” You say softly, taking a knee to be closer to his level. “You need repairs. We both know it. The longer you put it off, the worse it’s gonna be.” R-6 looks back at you then, and you really think that he’s finally starting to listen. You stand back up, motioning him inside the barracks. He rolls forward a little bit, and you let out a sigh of relief, thinking you’ve finally won. 

You didn’t, though. He hardly gets a foot in the door before stopping suddenly, letting out a loud buzzer that really does embody the word ‘access denied’. You let out an aggravated groan.

“Okay. I give up. Hey wrecker?” You call out to the excitable clone, who lets out the most delighted cackle as he shoots up from his bunk without you even having to explain.

“I’m on it, doc!” He cheers. R-6 lets out a noise of panic, making a full 360 and trying to make a run for it down the halfway. He doesn’t make it far. Wrecker scoops him up ridiculously easy, and the droid lets out a small scream as he does. You and Hunter share a chuckle as Wrecker brings him inside. Hunter sends you a small wave as he pushes off the doorframe and follows in after them. The door closes, leaving you out in the hallway. You take a deep breath and let it out, before the smile on your face turns giddy.

You’re practically skipping down the hallway to your quarters. You catch a couple of stares from shinys on your way there, but you’re in such a good mood, you smile and wave. You feel light as a feather. 

Why? Private refresher. That’s why. A comfortable bed, and being able to sleep through the night without having to be woken up for watch. That’s why. You were so happy you could scream.

The first thing that you do when you open the door is toss your bag on your bed haphazardly, immediately booking it into the refresher. Your shower is bliss. Hot water, somewhat spacious shower, enough room for you to actually bathe, and enough time not to feel rushed? That, and it’s actually clean. You finally have a moment to relax. The hot water washes over you in steady streams, pulling away any of your aches and soothing your bruises. 

Sometimes you don’t realise what a life like this takes from you until you have a moment away from it all. You try to squash the thought as soon as it comes. This had always been your life. Just because it’s changed a little bit, doesn’t mean you need to start questioning it now.

After carefully scrubbing yourself down and washing your hair for what felt like the first time in forever, you feel incredible. You’re quick to dry off and change into fresh clothes, and it really does feel like a breath of fresh air. When you’re finished, you slump against the bed, next to your bag. Time to finally relax.

…

Relaxing should be easy. Right? Finally, the time you’ve been waiting for. You try to let go of the tenseness in your shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly in order to really feel the weights that should be lifting off you now that you’re here. Just relax, and fall asleep, and you can get up and go do something later. On your own time. 

You lay in silence. Eyes closed. Electricity tingles through your limbs uncomfortably. Energy in your body keeps you awake. Your comlink buzzes once, nearby. You try to ignore it. You can’t. Your mind won’t let you. 

Okay. Fine. Kriff this. 

You get up with an aggravated groan. Who knew that this would be so hard? You’re honestly not all that surprised, given that you’ve become so used to the non-stop pace of missions with the batch. You go through your bag until you find your commlink, and the blue light of the holo displays a written message.

A: You alright? Haven’t heard from you in a while

You bite your lip. Out of everyone, you didn’t expect him to check in. Communication is hard in your circumstances, but you know that they’re worried about you. You reply, and the next message comes through immediately.

A: Good to hear. Remember to keep an eye out.

Right. Keep an eye out. The words cause that weight in your chest to return. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to looking over your shoulder. Deleting the message is second-nature. They disappear just as the others that have come before them, and the ones that would come after. No loose ends. No slip-ups. No chances taken. It’s safer for you this way. Safer for everyone. 

But is it really?

Suddenly, the thought of staying in this room anymore is suffocating. You decide that you’re better off exploring the base anyway.

To no one’s surprise, all the hallways here look the same. You wonder if all buildings in Tipoca city look like this. Bright, clean, and rather confusing. Shaak Ti had given you a tour of the place when you were first assigned, but you still find it rather difficult to navigate sometimes when you’re not just going from your room to the hangar and back. You pass by classrooms, nurseries for the youngest clones, and a few cadets heading to afternoon drills. Everyone has a time and place to be. Everything's allocated, assigned, or automated. 

Maybe that’s part of the reason Clone Force 99 stands out so much.

You really oughta pay more attention to where you’re walking, though. While you’re so focused on the rooms and decor, you don’t notice the wet floor in front of you. You don’t catch yourself in time when you slip, falling right on your ass with a small surprised yelp. You sit for a second. Dear Maker. You must have looked ridiculous. You try to stand up, but you slip again, and can’t help but start to laugh it off. Just your luck. 

“Are you alright, Miss?” Someone asks you. When you look up, you see a clone that you’ve never met before, but recognise immediately. He holds out a withered hand to help you up, and you take it gratefully, careful not to knock him over.

“I am. Thank you. Sorry about the floor. I should have been paying more attention.” You apologise. He gives you a lopsided smile, chuckling to himself a little bit. This must be 99. The original bad batcher. 

“That’s alright. I was a bit distracted too, don’t worry.” 99 replies. He points to a large, rounded window across the hall. You knew this room from the tour. This was one of the many combat rooms on the base, but the only one that had a firing range attached. The combat rooms themselves don't have windows that lead to the outside hallways, but the firing range did. Through the thick blaster-proof glass, you can see that there’s a large group of clones huddled around two of the stalls. 

“That’s certainly a crowd.” You mention. You watch as someone in the stall fires a single blaster shot, knocking down two of the automated targets. Impressive.

“My brother Crosshair is back today.” 99 chuckles from beside you. “Best sniper in the galaxy, that one. He draws a crowd every time he hits the training grounds.” You can’t hold back your snicker at that. So that’s why the firing rage was getting so much attention. Surprising, given that Crosshair pretty much despises regs. He must be on his best behavior today.

“I’m sure he just loves that, doesn’t he?” You remark, and 99 lets out a hearty laugh.

“Only when credits are involved.” He says. Now that made much more sense. Can’t win bets if you’ve pissed off everyone that’s got credits to spare- when they had credits at all.

“I might as well go see what the fuss is about then,” You chirp, stopping for just a moment before heading into the range, “Oh, and 99?” The clone’s face lights up when you call his name, clearly having not expected you to know. Before you had become their medic, you did your best to research the living members of the bad batch. Pictures weren’t included in the clone database, nor were names. Just numbers, missions, rank, stations, and accomplishments. But the description of the only soldier in the republic’s army that worked as a janitor… it stuck with you. The boys don’t mention him a whole lot, but you know 99 is important to them. And you also know that he gets a lot of judgment from his fellow clones. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” You finish, giving him a wave before leaving. He still looks a bit confused as he waves back, but the delighted look on his face is enough to make your day.

It costs nothing to be kind. It costs everything to be ignorant. 

That, you were intimately familiar with.

The firing range has erupted in noise when you step through the door, and it’s practically whiplash compared to the silence of Kamino that you were used to. Two clones step out of the stalls. Crosshair is one, and the other is a reg. A shiny at that. Now that you’re looking at them, most of these clones seem relatively new. The group is laughing and teasing the one who just came out of the stall, patting him on the back as he grumpily hands a few credits over to Crosshair. It doesn't look like very much, but for clones, anything feels like a lot when you have nothing more than the armor on your back. It’s not right. But it’s the way things are. 

The group of clones back up a bit, talking amongst themselves to see who still had credits to pitch in, debating on who had enough skill to win the rest of their money back. Crosshair spots you when they do so, his face remaining unimpressed. 

“Have you had enough fun harassing the shinys?” You ask once you’re close enough. Cross huffs a laugh.

“Only if they’re done betting.” He says. He leans back a little, crossing his arms and he looks on at the group of clones that are still plotting. He looks incredibly bored. One of the regs steps away from the group for a second, before spotting you, and immediately turns back around. He says something to the centermost clone- the only one with credits still in his hand- who then looks up at you as well. That’s weird. What in the world were they planning?

“What about her?” The one in the middle asks, flipping the money in his hand like a toy. He flips the coin in his hand before catching it. You look at Cross, and he looks just about as skeptical as you are. 

“What about her?” Crosshair replies, uncrossing his arms. You can’t tell if he’s being defensive or if he’s genuinely confused. Crosshair has always been an ass, though, so you highly doubt it would be the first. Hell, you’re pretty sure he dislikes you more than Hunter does. He just likes to try to start fights rather than ignore you. 

“I bet she could beat you.” He says. Credits would be a fitting name for him, you think. One of the men in their group must not have gotten the memo from earlier, because he makes a sound of outright frustration, smacking Credits in the head. 

“Dumbass. Everyone knows that’s their medic. She’ll throw the bet.” He argues. Credits winces, cradling the back of his head. That’s a pretty bold accusation. Sure, you’re supposed to stick together as a team, but assuming you’d throw the game just so that Crosshair would have more money in his pocket? He’s an asshole! Why would you want him to win more money than he already had?

…

Wait. 

“I’ll do it.” You chirp, casually. The clones' faces drop in shock. Even Crosshair turns around to look at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“You’re kidding,” Crosshair mutters. A downright mischievous smile spreads across your face. You’re getting to him. Perfect. It’s time you showed him that you’re good for a lot more than just sitting on your ass. 

“I’m not.” You reply. He narrows his eyes for a moment before turning to face you head-on, straightening his spine as he finally bucks up to the challenge. Hook. Line. Sinker. 

“Alright then, fine. What’s the bet?” He asks. 

“One shot, two targets. If we tie, we add one more.” Not a usual competition, but it’s the first one you can think of. You’re confident with a blaster- a little more than you should be, to be honest- and you know that he has no clue just how good a shot you can be. Why would he? There’s no use in paying attention to someone else's aim when you’re focusing on your own. 

“You won’t make it past the first round.” He smirks, and you can practically see him counting the credits. 

“I’ll bet I can make it to the third. All or nothing.” You say, trying to provoke him at this point. Crosshair only snickers, placing a toothpick in his mouth before turning around and walking back into the stall.

“It’s your funeral.”

[wistfulforstars]

I Want More, More

Crosshair x Reader Oneshot

WOW, I broke 20 followers! Thank you, thank you for reading my little fics, it means the world! Have a Crosshair battling with his feelings oneshot!

Word Count: 4605

Summary: Crosshair is made aware that he has not been treating you like he should. He has a crisis about it before talking to you like an adult, kind of.

Warnings: Here there be smut, minors begone, Crosshair struggling with his feelings is its own warning, Crosshair is a dick until he's not, he's a moron your honor, slightly desperate Crosshair, rough sex into talking into gentle sex into rough sex again, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, language, some derogatory pet names, talking during sex, reader is afab, there's porn here I promise, you just have to get through Crosshair's angst

This wasn’t fucking working.

Crosshair was near madness, and he was sure you were reaching a point where you needed a break. You’d never let him fuck your mouth for this long before. But there you were, topless, tears streaming down your face, knees probably scuffed or even bleeding from the durasteel floor, nevermind that you still had your pants on. And yet you pushed through, voicing not a word of complaint as you gagged on his persistent cock.

And he wasn’t anywhere close to finishing.

You should be complaining, he decided. What had it been? Thirty minutes? Fifty? Crosshair couldn’t keep track of anything except his own frustration, and that was making him a terrible lay. And if there’s one thing he would be loath to be terrible at, it was sex.

His cock throbbed, his balls ached, and you kept moaning. He growled.

Sooner or later, you’re going to hurt her. She’s going to get tired of this, and she’s going to leave. Hunter’s words from earlier in the week creeped back into his mind, and any hope of salvaging this situation dissipated into thin air.

Crosshair abruptly pulled you off his length and backed away, tugging his pants up as he went. Still you knelt, breathing heavily, awaiting what he’d do next. It was the arrangement you’d both worked out months ago. You allowed yourself to be used as he saw fit, and he made sure you left satisfied and ready for dreamless sleep. No feelings, no complications. It had worked well for a long time. But he looked at you then, your face a mess, your curled legs trembling, and for the first time, he couldn’t stand the sight.

She deserves someone who cares deeply about her, Echo’s voice, well, echoed in his head, as unbidden as Hunter’s had been. His nosy brothers had held an intervention of sorts a few days ago while you were out getting supplies. It had started with Tech’s “We want to know what you are doing with our medic,” gone through Wrecker’s “You know she likes you, right? Like, a lot,” and ended with a long speech from Hunter about how “One day Crosshair, you’re going to wake up and realize that she’s moved on. For some reason, she really cares for you. And you’re treating her like a meaningless one night stand, except you keep doing it over, and over and-”

It was stupid. You both liked what you were doing. You were both consenting adults with the power to walk away at any time. You were both happy and fulfilled with that. It was enough.

Except for the past few days, it hadn’t been.

Crosshair began to really notice certain things since the talk with his brothers. Like how you always met him with a cheery good morning, and how you didn’t expect an answer in return. How you’d sit next to him while he cleaned his rifle, content to do all the talking if he just listened. How you always ran over after a close call on missions, frantic about his safety and never expecting him to inquire about your wellbeing, even if you were covered in soot and limping away from an explosion. 

He realized you were giving more, much more to your…friendship, than he was. And that didn’t sit well with him. Your relationship was supposed to be transactional, and here you were, giving him attention and assistance and contact without expecting one damn solitary thing in return. Always giving, never receiving, and he…

He was a fucking prick. 

Horrible, awful scenarios started coming to mind after that. For two days, he thought about what would happen if you got transferred, or completed your service and left, or, stars-forbid, got shot. A concept he’d never considered before. You were always there, always constant as Tech’s pointing finger and Echo’s whirring attachments.

The idea of you leaving him - and he was completely arrogant for never seriously entertaining the thought - was frightening. And Crosshair didn’t do frightened.

The worst part? While he was drowning in inner turmoil due to his asshole brothers and your own damn sweetness, you were waltzing around, perfectly fine. You had never given any outward indication that you wanted something real from him, something more than a smokescreen of orgasms and sharp banter. Now that he knew how much you cared, now that he’d heard that you liked him no matter how hard you tried to hide it, he couldn’t let it go.

You’d been contenting yourself with his hands on your body and his lackluster personality for months, when, according to his brothers, you’d really wanted something deeper. Did you think he would reject you, or that he wasn’t capable of anything more to begin with? Both possibilities stung, a lot deeper than he’d ever supposed they would. Especially as he realized that neither of them were unreasonable of you to assume. Suddenly, he was furious.

That’s how he ended up with his cock down your throat in the back of the Marauder, while everyone else was out on the town. Not in his bed, never in his bed. That was one of the rules he’d made, to stop things from getting too intimate. Instead he’d had you kneel, and you’d done it with a wry smile and no questions. He’d planned to fuck these thoughts out of his head, but as it turns out, his brain was thinking the fuck out of his dick, so to speak. 

So instead, he leaned against the wall, gazing at you. You still kneeled, still waited patiently while he’d stared for who knows how long. 

You deserved better. 

The thought was pounding against his skull, incessant and refusing to leave. And Crosshair knew there were only two ways to resolve it. He could walk away, wish you well, and hope that you found someone who could give you a true relationship, no matter what it might cost him.

Or…he could try to be worthy of you.

The first option entailed less risk, and was definitely more his style. He couldn’t be bad at a relationship if he never tried to give you one. But the thought of someone else seeing you like this, or worse, someone else seeing you in ways he hadn’t yet…on a beach, walking down a colorful city street, riding a speeder bike, in the snow…

He stood abruptly and crossed over to your languishing form. He had you in his arms in less than a second, and had you laying on his bunk in less than five more. 

“Cross, wha-?” you protested. You knew the rules, knew his boundaries, and tried to sit up and leave. 

He grasped your shoulders and gently pushed you back, “Please.” Was all he said, whispered and hoarse. He worried at his lip without realizing it. Your eyes widened, and you let him lean you back on his pillows. He fidgeted with them, trying to make them fluffier than the GAR issued sacks of foam they really were, and you quirked a brow.

“You fucking with me, Cross?” you asked, and he could tell you were putting real effort into keeping the trepidation out of your voice. “Because this is a real weird joke.”

Okay, he deserved that one. But his words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. How was he supposed to know how to tell a woman he liked her anyway? If the Kaminoans included a class on charm somewhere in their training programs, he definitely didn’t get an invite.

Maybe you would be better off with someone who didn’t spend their days getting up close and personal with other people through a fucking scope. 

But all this staring was starting to freak you out. You were sitting awkwardly, legs open, tits out, under his genetically superior gaze. Crosshair didn’t know what kind of face he’d been making, but it clearly wasn’t one you were used to. You crossed your arms over your chest and turned your head to the side, away from him.

“Are we done?” You ground out through a set jaw, a slightly trembling lip. “Is this…ahem…is this over? Because you could just tell me, you don’t have to try and make it easier. I can just go back to my bunk and…and…”

He caught the sheen in your eyes, the catch in your throat. Fuck. Fuck.

“I-I want you…” stars, he can’t even talk. Damn you. Damn him. He cleared his throat. “I. want. you. to stay… there.”

Well, it sounded like it was being tortured out of him, but at least it got your attention. You turned back to look at his face, “You want me to stay here.” You said evenly, jerking your head towards his shabby pillows. “In your bed. Where I’m never, ever supposed to be.”

He swallowed, mouth dry as hell, and nodded. You were so much better at this, so much stronger than he was. He couldn’t do anything but spill his guts in what was probably the least romantic way possible. 

So he did, “I want to try…something else.”

Your lips parted just a fraction, and something seemed to click behind your eyes. But you were tough, tougher than he ever gave you credit for, and you never gave him any ground. Oh you were gentle about it, cool satin to his rough burlap. He suspected it was the healer in you. But you always demanded communication from him, demanded that he explain his behavior, even if it took him a while.

“Something else,” the hitch in your voice had disappeared. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me, babe. You know I’ll try something new, and we have a safe word, but this violates your rules, and I don’t know how to act now. I don’t know what’s okay.”

Babe. It slipped out of your mouth every so often, usually in a teasing lilt over comms during a battle. He didn’t know if he loved it or hated it, but it always brought a sudden heat to his face. He felt the tips of his ears burning.

“I…” c’mon, bastard. You can get this out, you have to get this out. She’s waiting. “I want… toforgettherules.”

“I’m sorry? One more time?”

Brat. In any other circumstance, he’d have you over his knee for something like that. But he took a deep breath, like the ones he’d take before making an impossible shot. And maybe that’s what this was, “I want to forget the rules.”

Your eyes alighted with something like hope, “Why?”

Yes Crosshair, you stupid prick, tell the lady why. He needed to get his head examined. He was talking to himself more than usual. And now he’d started to sound like Hunter.

“Because,” he ground out, teeth clenched. “You deserve…better…than what I’ve been giving you. But I…I don’t want anyone else to deserve you.”

You sat with that for just a moment. And then you brought a hand up to your mouth and giggled. It was such a happy sound, he was almost completely unoffended. 

“You like me,” you murmured, eyes full of mirth and pure, honest delight.

He let out a shaky breath. It was almost a chuckle, “I like you. You’re a little shit, and you give me a heart attack half the time. But I like you.”

“And… I’m allowed to like you back?” This question was tentative, small. Not how he wanted to see you. You should be bright, confident, unafraid to show your brilliance. A fierceness crept into his heart.

“You get to like whatever you damn well please,” he growled, then softened slightly. “But…it would be nice if you liked me.”

You hummed, and dropped the arms covering your gorgeous breasts to cup his face in both hands. Your fingers moved in his cropped strands of hair, but he resisted the urge to close his eyes at the peace it brought him. 

“I like you, more than I ever thought you’d want me to,” you almost-whispered. Then you grinned that same grin you got when Wrecker offered to let you press a detonator. “But if you want in on this, babe, if you want some kind of commitment, I’ve got some rules of my own.”

Strangely, the thought didn’t concern him nearly as badly as it had a day ago. He didn’t know shit about real relationships. He wanted you, and if you gave him some kind of guide to go off of, well, at least there was less of a chance of him fucking it up. 

Crosshair nodded, and your smile grew wider, joy sparkling in your eyes.

“First of all,” you began. “You have to say good morning and good night to me. You also have to hold my hand every so often, and let me kiss your cheek. I promise not to embarrass you…too much.”

He huffed a little, but conceded, “Agreed. Anything else?”

“Oh this is an ongoing list. There will be amendments,” you chirped happily. “I require actual conversation daily, and I get to sleep next to you after we fuck.”

“What do you take me for? Of course you get to-”

“No getting jealous of my guy friends, including your brothers. Like when I give them hugs or candies or-.”

“The regs absolutely cannot be trusted-”

“Ha! I knew you’d be a jealous boyfriend. Oh yeah! And I get to introduce you as my boyfriend from now on.”

Crosshair’s mild disgust must have shown on his face, because you laughed outright, “What about partner? Lover? Fuckbuddy?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll make ‘boyfriend’ work. Can I kiss you now or does the princess have more proclamations?”

That shut you up. Despite all the other parts of him you’d had in your mouth, one of his rules had been no kissing on the lips. Your eyes glazed over, and he smirked and leaned forward.

Your lips were so soft, plush and sorely neglected. A vague sense of regret and longing overtook him. How the hell had he managed to avoid kissing you until now? It didn’t really matter. He decided, as you let out a little hum of surprise, that it was about to become his new ritual. Every morning, every night, every time he could drag you into a private little alcove, he’d do it, just to get a chance to press his lips to yours.

He pushed forward, his tongue licking at the line of your lips, and you whined. His cock pulsed, and he began steadily rocking it against your clothed thigh. You opened your mouth eagerly and he dove in. Oh this was divine.

“Never thought,” he mumbled into your mouth. “Never thought it’d be like this.”

“Like…what?” you gasped.

“This…this fucking… brilliant. Stars, your mouth…”

You groaned, and he moved to sweep his deft tongue along your jaw, up to your ear. He bit at your earlobe, and your hips began doing some involuntary rocking of their own. Crosshair growled in your ear, satisfied when you shivered.

He stopped though, when he felt your stealthy hand cup his balls through his pants, “No,” he rasped, taking your wrist in hand and bringing the misbehaving appendage up to nip at your squirming fingers. “I told you, doll. I want… to try… something else.”

“Letting me call the shots would be something else,” you whined, still wiggling in his grasp.

He shook his head, “Not tonight,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Tonight, you just lay there. Look pretty. Look fucking gorgeous because that’s what you are, and keep making little noises for me.”

You whimpered at that, and he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual cocky, infuriating twist of the lips. This was an adorable half smile, part disbelieving, part alive with anticipation. 

Your pants were hastily removed, and while your shoes caused a bit of an obstacle, Crosshair simply wrenched them off and tossed them over his shoulder. One landed with a thump on the durasteel floor - a place he swore you would never be kneeling unprotected again. He was pretty sure the other ended up in Tech’s bunk. 

Crosshair traced his hands down your legs and slowly, ever so slowly pulled your knees further apart. You were pressed back against the pillows, open and waiting for him, and his heart rose to a furious din in his ears. He was almost positive you could hear it. 

He was seized with another fit of insecurity. How was he supposed to know how to cater to you like this? He knew how to grasp your throat just hard enough that your eyes would roll back into your head. He knew how you liked to be tied down and spanked. This wasn’t even the first time he had held your legs apart and let you squirm under his attention. But tenderness… communicating one’s feelings with one’s body… he didn’t even know how to begin. 

His eyes flicked to your face, flushed with shyness and lust. Your kind, welcoming eyes, more open in every breath than he was in his entire lifetime. You bit your lip.

You have to try to be worthy of her, he thought to himself. And he turned his attention to your pussy.

Still clothed in your thin, basic panties, the solid color was stained dark with your wetness. Crosshair cursed, and slowly descended between your legs.

First, he kissed your knees, not bleeding but definitely scraped, and the gentle touch of his lips had you sighing. You’d never made that sound before, that exhale of pure contentment. He wanted more of it. 

You flinched and squirmed as he ran his tongue down your inner thigh, but he held you fast. You weren’t getting away from him. Not now, not when he was finally ready to really try. 

Crosshair knew where you wanted him. You weren’t exactly subtle with the canting of your hips and the nervous fluttering of your fingers over the sheets. Your breaths were coming in short bursts of want. Stars, how were you this sensitive already? He’d seen you in a state of pre-orgasmic distress plenty of times, had made you beg for him past the point where you could speak in coherent sentences, but never had he seen such simple, sweet touches electrify you in this way.

Instead of lowering his mouth to your pussy, though, Crosshair moved to lick and nip at your hip bone. You squealed and moaned, and he decided he’d never heard such an addicting sound.

He brought his tongue across your belly, snapping the waistband of your panties with his teeth before teasing your other hip. Your whimpering was a constant symphony in his dark bunk. He pulled back and chanced a peek at your face. Your eyes were shining with yearning. You had one hand in your hair. He reached up, tugged your abused lip from between your teeth, worried that you’d draw blood, and glanced back down.

The wet spot on your panties had grown, and finally, with a lighter touch than he’d ever directed towards you, Crosshair ran a knuckle up and down your clothed center. You keened, and threw your head back on his feeble pillows, which had flattened almost completely under you. 

I need to get new ones, he thought absently as he tugged your panties to the side, exposing your dripping core. She deserves to be fucked on real pillows. 

He lowered his head, and you were both gone. 

Crosshair had tasted you before, often as a tease while you were tied up and helpless. But not often, and not thoroughly. He usually enjoyed watching your face while taking you apart with his fingers, snarling demeaning pet names into your ear. But this…this was transcendent. You tasted like home, like he could live his entire life and die between your legs. He drank from you slowly, meticulously, lapping at your entrance and circling your clit before closing his lips around it and lightly sucking. Your legs were trembling within minutes. Every few seconds, garbled, meaningless sounds escaped from your throat and spurred him on. He gently, reverently pushed a finger into your hot center, caressing the spot you both loved. You seized up…, and let go.

He rocked you lovingly through your orgasm, fingering you slightly and keeping his mouth clamped around your clit. Your pussy spasmed, your hips jerked, and your mouth opened in a silent scream. 

But he didn’t stop. 

Crosshair began again, stroking your throbbing clit with his tongue, refusing to allow the fire in your abdomen to subside. Now that he’d really tasted you, now that he’d felt you fall apart on his lips, his only goal was to make it happen again.

“C-cross!” you yelled, hand flying down to his hair. You tugged hard, and he groaned.

“More,” he mumbled into your cunt. His fingers pressed at that tender spot inside you, and your head flew back. You shrieked and writhed on his bed, dripping onto the sheets. 

You were moaning with every breath, tensing your legs and frantically thrusting your hips towards his waiting mouth. Your toes curled repeatedly in the corners of his vision. Your pussy was red and swollen, your slick arousal running down his hand and wrist. 

Crosshair curled his fingers inside of you and allowed his teeth to gently catch against your begging clit, and your second orgasm hit like a lightning strike. You seized up, screaming your release to the ceiling of his bunk. He gently lapped at your clit as you came down, your yells turning to sobs. Tears spilled down your face and onto your chest. You reached for him, and he encircled your shaking body with his arms.

“Shhhhh,” he hushed into your hair. “You’re alright…you’re alright…I…I’ve got you, mesh’la.”

You pulled back, tears tracking your cheeks as you stared into his eyes, “Y-you’ve never called me that before.”

Crosshair knew you understood the word. Echo called you mesh’la on occasion, Wrecker too. “I felt left out,” he said. “I should get to remind you of how beautiful you are more than anyone else.”

You sniffed, and threw your arms around him, “You’re beautiful too,” he heard you mumble, and his heart swelled. “But…”

“But what, doll?”

Your voice took on a fierce, desperate tone, “If you don’t get inside me right now, we’re going to have our first fight.” 

Crosshair was stunned, but only for a moment. This was why he lo…liked you in the first place. 

He took on the domineering tone he usually had with you in these situations, “Demanding girls don’t get what they want.”

But you just grinned, and lifted your chin, “Girlfriend privilege.”

He threw his head back and laughed. What had he gotten himself into? 

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Just this once, mesh’la.”

You practically went limp in his arms as his straining, red cock breached your entrance. He stilled for just a moment, relishing in the feeling of being inside you. When you looked up at him, eyes shining with something he dare not name, not yet, he felt complete.

Crosshair grabbed hold of your hair and yanked, and you squealed from the pull of his hand and the push of his cock. This much he was sure of: he knew how you liked to be fucked, and he didn’t have it in him to be gentle any longer. And though he wouldn’t last as long as he’d like, no one could accuse him of not being a giving lover.

“Just like that, good girl,” he growled. You whined and writhed, impaled on his cock and unable to even think. “You just lay back, and come for me one more time.”

“Cross…I-I can’t.”

“You can,” he assured you, and his thumb went down to ever so gently move on your clit. “You’ve done it for me before, and you’re going to do it for me again. Scream, bite me if you have to, but you are going to give me one more.”

You wailed, hips thrusting up, frantically trying to match his rhythm. Crosshair released your hair to grab your throat. He leaned in, a hair's breadth away from your ear, and whispered, “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

You tensed, and he grinned, “You like that? You like knowing you’re mine? That this mouth, these tits, this pussy all belong to me?” He started moving faster, keeping that pressure on your throbbing clit. He bit at your ear, “But remember, mesh’la, just because you’re my girl doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you like the slut we both know you are.”

That did it. Your cunt clenched around him, and you let out an ear-piercing scream. Your release came in strong, crashing waves, wiping your mind of anything else and soaking both of you. Crosshair couldn’t hold out any longer. He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, and you shuddered with the aftershocks, so full and sated Crosshair swore you’d fallen asleep.

He was wrong. You lifted a trembling hand to his face and smiled gently at him, “Thank you, Cross.”

He scoffed, “Nothing to be thankful for. Not like we haven’t done this a hundred times.”

But you shook your head, “We’ve never done this before.” You gestured at the mess you’d made in his bed, at your tangled limbs and the invisible closeness that still existed between you, even after the amazing sex. “Thank you for trying.”

Crosshair felt his strength leave him. He gathered you up, and buried his face in your chest, taking deep, calming breaths, “Don’t let me coast on it.” He murmured. “Don’t cut me any slack. I’m bad at this.”

He heard your giggle from above, “A little unpolished, maybe, but I’ve never seen you fail to excel at something you were determined to accomplish.” You stroked his hair. “We’ll be fine, babe.”

“We need to talk about that nickname.”

“I can think of others,” you teased. “Honey, sweetie, my little tooka-”

He made a gagging noise against your breasts, and you were outright laughing, “Babycakes, darling, love-”

Crosshair knew he’d tensed up at that last one, had let a little gasp escape in his contentment. He blamed the recent orgasm. But you’d heard it, and you stopped laughing.

“Oh…” he heard your voice take on a strange tone, and finally looked up at your face. You looked…shy. Shy and happy. You nodded, “Love, then. I can make that work.”

He felt his ears burning, and he turned his face back into your chest. A sudden possessiveness overtook him, and he gathered you closer, “You can’t…” he mumbled. “You can’t call anyone else that.”

You were quiet for a moment, probably remembering all of the interchangeable nicknames you liked to use with his brothers. Then he felt your hands grab his face - still hiding in your breasts like a coward - and turn it toward your own. You smiled down at him. 

“And that, love, is what we call boyfriend privilege.”

Crosshair gazed at you in amazement, then felt a rare smile break out over his face. He hugged you close, took his time kissing your lips again. He knew, in a moment, he would tell you to stay where you are as he got up and did something he’d never done for you before - clean you up himself. It’s something he would insist on doing from here on out.

Because, he decided, that’s what your boyfriend would do. And, as he was realizing rather quickly, he did not want anyone else to earn that title. 

It was his. And he was yours. 

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

I'm sharing this sneak peak of Redacted's ch 3. Because I think it the funniest thing and I NEED to share. But don't yall just love it when a scene comes together?

The scene notes :

The droid starts to follow her, but she and Tech stop him. He’s reluctant to stay with tech to get repairs, but does so anyway bc she asks him nicely.

Vs.

The actual scene:

“Look, little guy.” You say softly, taking a knee to be closer to his level. “You need repairs. We both know it. The longer you put it off, the worse it’s gonna be.” R-6 looks back at you then, and you really think that he’s finally starting to listen. You stand back up, motioning him inside the barracks. He rolls forward a little bit, and you let out a sigh of relief, thinking you’ve finally won.

You didn’t though. He hardly gets a foot in the door before stopping suddenly, letting out a loud buzzer that really does embody the word ‘accsess denied'. You let out an aggrivated groan.

“Okay. I give up. Hey wrecker?” You call out to the excitable clone, who lets out the most delighted cackle as he shoots up from his bunk without you even having to explain.

“I’m on it, doc!” He cheers. R-6 lets out a noise of panic, making a full 360 and trying to make a run for it down the halfway. He doesn’t make it far. Wrecker scoops him up ridiculously easy, and the droid lets out a small scream as he does.

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Ch 2: Roger

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader - Slow burn, eventual smut. I know I'm posting this literally seconds after posting ch1, but happy ch2 guys! I finally started to get my writing flow back in this one, and I'm a lot happier with the pacing and characterisation. Additionally, I really hope y'all listened when I said slow burn, bc I meant it. Tws: minor injuries. Shootouts, minor character death, and large crowds.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter (Coming monday)

Things feel lighter, back on the Maurader. Even if it's only by a little bit. 

Today’s rations are bland, just like yesterday’s were. Wrecker is sat across from you, gleefully chowing down on his own meal. You wonder if it really tastes that good to him- but he seems happy regardless. Crosshair sits not too far away, methodically cleaning his sniper rifle. It’s silent, save for the sound of Wrecker eating. Awkward. Tech and Hunter have been tucked away in the cockpit for about thirty minutes now, finishing up the mission report. You stretch in your seat, trying to work the soreness out of your shoulders, and wonder how Hunter is even functioning after everything that happened.

Patching Hunter up was a quick process once you finally got him to sit down. He had a sprain, possibly a cracked rib, and the blaster shot from a few rotations ago had opened up again, despite the best efforts of the bacta spray and bandages that he had applied. The work he had done on himself had been clean, practiced. It made sense, given their experience with taking care of themselves, but the fact that the wound had reopened meant that you would have to do it over, regardless. 

It took several hours to find a way out of the maintenance tunnels. Elita-12 was once one of the largest space-bound trading stations in this corner of the outer rim- around 70 cycles ago, at the very least. Finding your way through the unmapped tunnels was a chore, but once the two of you managed to find a lift, the walk back to the hangar was a quick one. Wrecker and the others had already made it back, Tech already hard at work deciphering the black box’s encrypted details. 

“You gonna eat that?” Wrecker asks you, a wide smile across his face. You think for a second, but the more you look at the ration in your hands, the less hungry you feel. The door to the cockpit clicks open right about as soon as you begin to hand it to him.

“Don’t feed him that,” Hunter says. You can see the ghost of a smile on his face as he passes you, heading down towards the aft of the ship. 

“Aww, come on! She doesn’t mind! Right?” Wrecker complains. Tech is next to enter the room, busy typing away on his holopad. 

“You know the rules, Wrecker.” Tech says, without looking up. You look up at him, confused.

“What rules?” You ask. Crosshair snickers from his spot to your right, having finished cleaning his sniper. 

“If Wrecker wants more food, he has to work for it.” He says slyly, setting the rifle to the side. Before you can ask for any explanation, Hunter comes back into the room with a pack of cards. Crosshair sets his gun to the side, and Wrecker lets out a small groan as they begin to lay the cards out. 

“Hold on a minute, are you guys playing Sabaak?” You ask, lighting up a little bit. If any of them can see your excitement, they don’t say anything about it. 

“Credits are hard for us clones to come by, so we usually bet rations when we play,” Tech explains with a shrug. 

“Which means I usually go hungry,” Wrecker grumbles. You laugh a little at that. It’s been a long time since you’ve played Sabaak. You were never that good at it, but you can remember sneaking away with your brother, smooth floors against your knees as you played with the other younglings in secret. The memory of that laughter- that freedom… It’s enough to lift your mood, no matter how bad this rotation has been.

“So?” Hunter’s voice interrupts your train of thought. You snap out of it, looking back up at him. Tech doesn’t seem interested in playing, but Wrecker and Crosshair are sitting next to him. Wrecker is not so patiently waiting, tapping his fingers against the table. Crosshair has his arms crossed, shifting a Toothpick in his mouth.

“Are you joining or not?” Hunter asks you. Your eyes widen in surprise. This was a first. Usually, they only play Holochess, and even then, they never ask you to play. Crosshair raises an eyebrow at Hunter, who ignores him. 

“I- yeah, sure.” You say, shifting out of your seat to join them.

Maybe things were getting better after all.

You had to hand it to Tech; his work was clean and efficient. The flight to General Kenobi’s ship is quick; your debrief meeting with him comes even quicker. Hunter almost always lets Tech take the reins in meetings that have to do with data, and never once have you doubted why. Tech’s ability to recount every detail of the black box information down to the T is impressive, and you’re sure you’re not the only one who’s noticed.

“It seems that the separatists have been using the site sparingly. Once we decoded the data, we found several recorded uses of the station by presumed arms dealers, most of which have been dated within the past several rotations.” Tech has the data projected onto the main console, glowing blue in the somewhat dim lighting of the command center. General Kenobi studies the data closely, eyeing each date and time with unyielding focus. Hunter and Tech stand to your left, Crosshair and Wrecker to your right, and Commander Cody with General Kenobi across the console from you. Cody is the picture of discipline, with his shoulders back and his spine straight. He’s so different from the batch- regardless of the fact that he was a reg or not. There’s something about him that you just can’t seem to place. Something in the way he holds himself- like he knows. His gaze shifts, and he locks eyes with you. Caught.  You smile at him, and he looks away quickly. Kriff, he definitely knows.

“I’ll be with you shortly on the details of your next mission. It’s more than likely that this data is related to the Separatist weapons trade we’ve been keeping an eye on, and I’d like to stay hot on its trail.” General Kenobi says. “You’ve done good work today.” With a few more words, he dismisses the batch. You hadn’t noticed it before, but they stand a little taller in this room. You weren’t sure if it was pride or respect. But the way Hunter shakes the General’s hand before leaving, stopping only to send Cody a curt nod, makes you think it’s definitely a respect thing. You’ve never seen them go out of their way to interact with Regs before. Wonder what the story was there.

A call of your name stops you before you follow the batch out. General Kenobi. You turn to look at him, your stomach dropping a bit.

“May I speak with you about your medical report? There are a few details that I would like to clear.” He says. You look back at Hunter and the others, who’ve paused at the door. Waiting. Huh. 

“Alone, preferably.” The general clarifies. Hunter’s gaze shifts to you, and then back at General Kenobi, before he nods. When the door closes again, it’s just the three of you left in the room.

“What would you like to know, Sir?” You ask him, shoulders tight. Kriff, it feels like being called into a warden’s office. The general smiles at you, showing a soothing hand as he tells you to relax.

“I simply wanted to check in on your status. Clone Force 99 can be a bit taxing to get along with, and with your new change in position, I can imagine it is quite hard.” He says. You look back over at Cody, whose eye contact is unwavering, but not unkind. He definitely knew, then. 

“I’m okay.” You state simply, the words coming out weaker than you had meant them to. “The change is nothing I can’t handle, and the Batch is… well.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Things are looking up, I think.” You finish. The general raises his eyebrows, but you shake your head at him. The past is the past. Your job is to ensure the future. In terms of medical assistance or otherwise. You can see that he drops it at that, nodding back at you.

“There is one thing that I wanted to warn you about before you go.” His voice drops a little, a serious tone taking place. You stiffen. 

“Kalt Hugo’s ship was spotted in the outer rim this morning. He was only a few thousand klicks west of Elita-12.”

When you leave the command center, you have no idea where you’re going. All it takes is a quick glance at the empty hallways to see that the batch definitely did not wait up for you. 

“They’re probably headed to the mess.” You jump at little at Cody’s voice, turning around to see him right behind you.

“Right, yeah. And that would be…?” You trail off. Cody hums a little, stepping past you.

“Here, I can take you.” He replies. You’re quick to fall into step behind him. Cody makes no mention of the conversation with General Kenobi, nor does he ask you questions. He was probably strongly instructed not to speak of the situation, but you’re grateful for him anyways. You turn the corner and only get so far down the hallway before the two of you spot a commotion up ahead. 

It’s a standoff. A group of seven or so soldiers of the 212th battalion stands tall, facing off against four clones of varied shape and size. You’d recognise the black and red figures of the bad batch anywhere- even without their physical differences. 

“Remember whose ship you’re on, Di’kut.” One of the 212th says. He’s face-to-face with Hunter, neither of them backing down. One of the others says something to Wrecker that you can’t hear, and you can see the way he tenses and his fists clench. Crosshair, who stands behind Hunter’s shoulder, doesn't look much better. You’d been around the batch for long enough to tell when they were about to get into a fight- and they looked like they were less than a loth-cat's hair away from snapping. 

“Is there a problem here, Waxer?” Cody speaks up from your side as the two of you come to a stop in front of the commotion. The 212th, Waxer included, goes a bit pale at the sight of the commander. Waxer opens his mouth to speak, but Hunter beats him to it, stepping away from him.

“No issues here, Commander.” Hunter’s smile is sly, and although he’s stood down, Wrecker and Crosshair still look ready to fight. 

“Good,” Cody says, turning back to his battalion. “Don’t you soldiers have somewhere to be?” He pointedly asks. The 212th straighten up immediately. Waxer begins to say something more, but is elbowed by another clone with a handlebar mustache. They move on quickly, heading somewhere else down the hallway. Hunter and Cody share a look before Hunter nods at him in thanks. Cody returns the gesture before following his battalion down the hall. 

“What was that?” You ask, once Cody leaves. The boys share a glance before the five of you get moving. 

“It’s not an uncommon occurrence for us to have altercations with Regs,” Tech says as you fall into pace next to him. “Regardless of who starts it.” His words are clearly pointed at Wrecker, who groans in annoyance.

“He started it, and you know it!” Wrecker complains.

“Really, the easiest way for us to avoid confrontation is to keep to the maurader,” Tech adds once Wrecker is finished. Something about that doesn't sit right with you, but you follow them back regardless. You had a feeling that you’d be prepping for a rather long mission this time, anyway. 

The next planet they send you to is on the other side of the galaxy entirely. If you had thought the travel time to Elita-12 was taxing, this was about ten times worse. Despite the physical exhaustion from a trip like this, the farther you traveled away from that side of the outer rim, the better. Still, the weight on your chest only gets heavier.

The painted skull on the ceiling stares back at you with empty sockets. Your bunk is just about as comfortable as wood, but it could always be worse. There are two more drawings on the ceiling today, but you’re not sure if they’re new or old. It’s Aurebesh numbers. 99. The numbers are drawn on in shakier handwriting than you’re used to seeing. It’s not Tech’s, or Hunter’s. Maybe Wrecker is the one drawing on the ceiling after all. 

“You do that a lot,” Hunter says from the bunk across from you. You didn’t hear him wake up. You turn your head to look at him, but he’s looking at the ceiling too. 

“Sorry, Sargent. I didn’t realise that you were awake.” You apologise in a whisper. You can see his eyes in the dim light. He’s focused on the numbers on the ceiling, right where you had been looking before. 

“I don’t sleep much. Wrecker’s snoring makes sure of that.” He murmurs. The bunk rooms are skinny and tight. At first, you completely understand why Wrecker’s snoring would keep him awake. But there are two bunk rooms on the ship. You, Crosshair, and Hunter share one, while Tech and Wrecker share the other- three bunks to a room. 

“Wrecker sleeps across the hall?” You mention. Hunter looks away from the ceiling and back at you.

“Exactly.” He says. His response is unexpected and familiar. You can’t hold back a small laugh, and soon, Hunter begins to laugh too. It’s a quiet moment of reprieve after almost a month of heightened tensions. 

“You sound like my brother.” You mumble, after your hushed laughter begins to subside. It still feels strange to call him that, but there’s no other word that suits him better. You had heard once that Nostalgia is just the soul mourning the past, and you’d heard no phrase since that could describe it any better. 

“He was a really light sleeper. Sometimes it felt like breathing the wrong way could wake him up.” You continue. “I can only imagine how hard it is for you, Enhanced senses and all.” Your eyes begin to droop. The skull is looking at you again, only this time, it’s not the one on the ceiling. The room is silent, save for breathing. Your arms wrap around yourself as your eyelids finally begin to drift closed.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Hunter whispers. Your lips pull into a frown, eyes fluttering open to look at him for just a moment. 

“Did you ever stop to ask?” You reply. Hunter says nothing, at first. He looks away from you, then. Looking back towards the ceiling. 

Sometimes, you think it’s better that they haven’t cared enough to ask about your past. There’s less lies that way. Fewer calculated stories, fewer versions of the truth. You get to think about him less. You get to think about both of them less. Your soul, though… it still grieves, even when you don’t think it can, anymore. You think of that black box that’s hidden away in your medbag. It weighs more heavily than ever.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the way we’ve been treating you,” Hunter speaks, after a long, somber moment. “It’s… hard for us to adjust. We’re not exactly known for being followers.” You laugh a little at that. What an understatement. Still, you’re not mad at him. Or any of them, really. You’re just tired. 

“It’s fine, Hunter. I understand that more than you know.” You reply. You can’t keep your eyes open any longer, drowsiness finally taking over you. Hunter says nothing more, but you think you hear his footsteps leaving the room as you drift off to sleep.

The lift you’re in is quite possibly the oldest device in the galaxy. It creaks and groans as it lowers you under the planet’s grassy outer crust. At some point, you have to close your eyes and just pretend that you’re somewhere else entirely. A heavy hand knocks your balance a little off kilter as it rests on your shoulder. You already know it’s Wrecker before you look up, and he gives you a reassuring smile when you do. 

“Don’t worry, Doc. Tech said that there’s only a thirteen-percent chance we fall!” His voice is loud and over-encouraging, but it doesn’t help you relax at all.

“No, Wrecker. I said there’s only a Thirty-” Tech begins. You’re quick to cut him off, speaking over him and silently praying that you’ll just up and forget he started to speak in the first place.

“-I’ll be fine. Wrecker. Thank you”

The small planet of Leetu was a grassy, rural place, with a population smaller than some neighborhoods back on Coruscant. You’d heard of it in passing only, and thought for a hot minute that Hunter had been mistaken when he had shared that this was the location of your next mission. Even when you landed on its grassy, crop-ridden fields, you simply couldn’t believe that this was the biggest lead that the Republic had on the Sepratist Weapons-trafficking ring related to Elita-12. But like most people, you quickly learned that this small planet was much more than it looked like on the surface. Underneath the grassy fields and small farms were some of the largest underground markets within ten parsecs. It’s small time compared to the markets of Corascant, but perfect for the literal underground dealings of smugglers and bounty hunters alike. Five more cloaked figures shouldn’t catch anyone’s eye- but you still think that this mission should have been done in Civvies. There’s only so much you can do to hide the signature look of clone armor, even without their helmets.

The lift rattles as it finally comes to a stop, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The doors open up to an alleyway of sorts- and it’s much brighter than you expected it to be in here. You just assumed that an underground market would be, well, dark. The alley is short, and you can see crowds upon crowds of people passing by just outside of its narrow opening. 

“I thought the population of this planet was minuscule?” You mention. The five of you stop just outside the alleyway. Turns out that the crowd wasn’t just shoppers, either. The market booths are cluttered together tightly, selling everything you could possibly think of- and it’s loud, too.

“Black market criminals don’t usually fill out the census.” Crosshair remarks, passing you by as the batch begins to join the flow of foot traffic. You didn’t realise they had started walking away, having to take a few extra steps to catch up to them. It’s overwhelming in here, to say the least. People push and brush past you at nearly all angles- sometimes even cutting in between the five of you just to cross the street. The ground beneath you is rough, cracked in someplaces and pitted in others. Wrecker stumbles a little bit up front, but everyone else seems to be getting by just fine. Someone runs straight into Crosshair at some point. They even start to try to argue with him, but a few moments of that glare of his is enough to make them back off. It’s so chaotic, but they handle themselves so well in the midst of it all, you wonder if they’ve been here before. You don’t have time to ask, though. Instead, you bump into something large beneath your feet, tripping and falling harshly on the rough ground. 

You curse, having bashed your knee rather harshly. There's a frantic beeping and whirring, something like Master will be so mad, and I can’t believe I’ll be late again!  Your binary is a little rough. Sitting up, you realise you’ve tripped over an R-6 Droid- and knocked him clean over. His head is spinning back and forth frantically, his legs trying to push himself up, unsuccessfully. It’s… odd. R-series droids are usually practically impossible to knock over due to the magnetic stabilisers in their feet. 

“Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologise. His sleek black and silver frame is a bit difficult to lift, but you stand him up okay, giving him a pat on the head when you finish. He beeps at you, ever grateful for the assistance. You catch a glimpse of someone in the corner of your eye, and turn to see Hunter walking towards you. 

“Something happen?” He asks, stopping in front of you.

“Everythings fine,  I just…” You look back at where the droid had been before, but it’s gone. “I tripped. Sorry.” You apologise. Taking a glance over his shoulder, the rest of the batch have gone on without you- or maybe they didn’t. It was hard to tell through all the people. Did Hunter come back for you?

“Don’t get distracted,” Hunter says, “Our intel on the target’s location is only good for half a cycle. We need to find him before-” 

“HUNTER!”  Wrecker’s voice comes through the comms, “We’ve been spotted! He’s making a run for it, headed back your way!”

“-Before that.” Hunter finishes with a groan of frustration. 

Right on cue, there’s shouts coming from the crowded foot traffic. Someone is violently shoved into you, and another figure darts past. Damnit! How long had you even been in this market, two minutes?! Hunter immediately launches into action, hot on the figure’s tail. You’re dazed for a second, but not for very long, pushing past the bodies that block your path to get on track right behind him. Hunter is way faster than you give him credit for. With so many people around, it’s hard to keep him in your sights as you weave through large crowds. Hunter calls your name through the comms, breathing hard.

“Stay on me. Wrecker, Tech, there’s a back alley behind some of these market buildings. We’re going to herd him in there, and I need you to cut him off. Crosshair, see if you can’t get a viewpoint up top.”  His orders are thorough and clean. Tech mentions an affirmative through the comlink. Crosshair says nothing, but you get the feeling he was already on it before Hunter could say anything. You’re catching up to Hunter quickly. Your heart is pounding, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You can see a flash of blaster fire up ahead, and someone in the crowd screams. The target rounds a corner into an alleyway on the right, knocking over a large stack of crates right in front of the two of you. Hunter gets caught, tripping up. You, however, feel like you’re thinking more clearly than ever. You were trained for things like this. Your breaths are even and centered. You clear the first box, using it as a step up and leaping over the rest. You’re in the lead, now. 

After sticking the landing (for the most part), you turn the corner into the side alley, catching only a glimpse of the target as he rounds another corner, heading into the back alley just like Hunter said he would. You’re not far behind, keeping up the chase. At least, that’s what you thought, anyway. 

When you make it into the back alley after him, it’s clear. You have your blaster at the ready, spotting two more figures heading towards you. It’s Tech and Wrecker, though. No signs of the target anywhere. The walls of the alleyway are flat. No doors, windows, or manholes to be seen. Looking up, it's too tall to scale, too. Where did he go? Hunter approaches behind you with heavy footsteps, catching up right as Tech and Wrecker do. 

“I don't understand, where could he have gone?” You say. Hunter hops on his commlink.

“Crosshair. You got eyes on him?”  He asks. Tech already has his datapad out, typing something down before pulling a tool out of his belt.

“Negative.”  Crosshair replies, ever snakelike with his punctuation. The tool that Tech pulls out is a scanner of some sort. He types something in the controls, and it beeps a few times. He holds it to his left, and it does nothing. He holds it to his right- and then a chorus of beeps sounds. 

“Found him.” He states simply. Tech steps towards the wall, using the scanner to find something in particular. Once he finds the right spot, it lights red for three seconds before turning green. A large section of the wall begins to sink in cleanly, before sliding to the side. Warm lights and loud chatter come from inside, and all it takes is a glance to figure out that it’s a back door to a bar. 

“Nice job, Tech,” Hunter says. He steps past you, holding his blaster towards the floor as he cautiously takes a small step inside. No one in the bar seems to notice as he surveys the room, taking note of all entrances. 

“Crosshair, keep an eye on the front entrance. I think we’ve got him cornered. Wrecker, I need you to stay out here in case he tries to backtrack.” He looks back at you and Tech, nodding to the inside of the bar.

“You two, make sure to stay low. We don’t want any unnecessary attention while we’re in here.” Hunter says.

“Why do I gotta stay out here?” Wrecker complains loudly, folding his arms in frustration. 

“Because you’re the picture of stealth, Wrecker. Why else?” Crosshair replies through the comms. Wrecker mentions something about ‘that stupid word’, but Hunter is already motioning you and tech into the bar. 

Once the door closes behind you, Hunter holds up a hand. He motions Tech to take the right, before turning to you.

“Take the left side of the bar, and keep your comms handy. If anything gets rough, call us. Don’t engage on your own.” Hunter speaks in a low voice. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What, you don’t think I can handle one guy on my own?” You ask in an attempt to be playful. Hunter ignores you.

“Just, stay out of trouble.” He says, turning away. Your heart sinks a little. You can’t let him get to you. It’s fine.

The three of you split up, with Hunter taking the middle. The bar in here is dead center in the room, crowded with tables and quite possibly the most ridiculous amount of patrons you’ve seen in a place like this. Not that you’d been to very many, really. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and smoke, and no one in the crowd takes notice of the three figures stalking through the bar, blasters at the ready. Probably too inebriated to care. 

How are you supposed to find this guy? You know what he looked like, but all the faces in here are starting to blend together. You swerve around a drunken patron who almost falls into you, and find it incredibly hard to focus in here. Even if the target had fled to your side of the bar, how would you even find him?

You take a deep, centering breath. You can do this. You hold it for a moment before letting it go. There’s a new tugging in the back of your mind. Sticking to the wall of the bar, you continue on. You can’t spot Hunter or Tech anymore, but you knew they’d comm you if anything was happening. You can see a doorway a few steps ahead of you, and when you get there, you see that it's a short hallway with two bathroom doors. 

That tug in the back of your mind pulls at you a bit stronger. 

Carefully, you step into the hallway. He’s in here somewhere, somehow. You can feel it. You don’t bother checking the bathrooms; instinct tells you to keep moving forward. The end of the hallway is a simple wall- similar to the one from outside. You approach slowly, almost ready to call Tech on the comms, but it slides open before you can. You step into the newly revealed room quickly before the door has a chance to close on you, and a robotic scream comes from the right. Startled, you hold out your blaster. 

It’s the little R-6 droid from earlier, scomp link still hooked up to the door controls. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay!” You say, lowering your blaster. The R-6 retracts his scomp link, backing away quickly as the door closes behind you. He runs something over as he does, and it gets stuck inside his tread. He tries to back up, again and again, but he can’t. He lets out a small scream again, putting his other working feet into full blast, only resulting in him spinning around in a circle. 

“Calm down, let me help you.” You reassure him quietly, holding back a laugh. He stops moving to look at you nervously. You crouch down in front of him, placing your blaster on the floor next to you and holding your hands out to show him you mean no harm. Once you’re sure he’s at least calm enough for you to touch him, you go ahead and move around to his side. R- units are heavy, that much you know for sure. It takes some effort for you to tilt him over a bit, and he makes nervous noises at you as you do so. Feeling around on the tread of his foot, you quickly find the flat end of a nail. It comes out without any trouble, and you set him back on the ground without any other issues.

“There, see? All better.” You whisper. The R-unit takes a moment to check himself over, moving forwards and backwards to make sure that yes, you did actually help him. Afterwards, he looks back at you, making a noise of thanks. You smile back at him, grab your blaster off the floor, and stand back up. Now that you actually have a moment to observe your surroundings, you realise that you’re in a large garage of sorts. Speeders of all kinds are scattered around the space, along with a few crates and toolboxes. Who knew that this would be here?

“You wouldn’t happen to see anyone come running through here, would you?” You ask the droid. It looks around for a minute, before settling in a direction and moving forward a little bit. Once it has eyes on whatever it was looking for, it looks back at you. It extends one of its utility arms, using it to flash a small light. He’s pointing you in the right direction, you think. He says something to you that you can’t quite understand, and leaves.

“Hey, wait!” You quietly call after him, but he just continues on. You walk after him, following him further into the garage- when someone grabs you from behind, yanking you behind one of the larger speeders. A hand covers your mouth before you can yell.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” It’s Hunter. You let out a sigh of relief, elbowing him in his armored side as you step out of his grasp. You turn on him in irritation. 

“A warning, Hunter! Use one!” You snap. Hunter’s jaw is clenched, angry. His voice is steady and controlled when he speaks.

“You were supposed to use the comm if something happened. I’ve tried calling you four times.” He says. Your heart drops into your stomach. Four times? You glance at your commlink, and it’s blank. That doesn’t make any sense. You never turned it off, and you were just talking through it before you stepped inside the bar. Could it have been jammed? It had to have been. Hunter’s head suddenly snaps to the side. You can see him have a moment of realisation, before he grabs your arm, pulling you further behind the speeder.

There’s a commotion on the other side of the garage. Someone just came in. 

“I’m telling you- I know these guys. They’re clones, not bounty hunters! If the republic knows we’re here, the whole operation is done!” The voice says. Peaking around the corner, you see that it’s the target speaking. He’s a skinny human man, with rather worn clothes that are covered in grease. He’s quickly following behind a tall pantoran woman that you don't recognise. The clothes that she’s wearing are rather expensive in comparison, her deep purple hair cut into a pixie cut. She walks with a purpose and is clearly pissed. Four B-1 battle droids follow closely behind the two- along with the R-6. Uh oh.  The droid is frantically trying to tell the woman something, and you’re praying you didn’t just fix the droid belonging to either of them. The R-6 speeds past the Target, right up to the woman. He keeps trying to get her attention, and eventually he does. She delivers a swift kick to his side, causing him to stall and stop suddenly.

“If I wanted you to speak, I would have asked.” She says coldly. The R-6 stops trying to speak after that, following behind them slowly. You never thought a droid could look sad before. 

“I’m telling you, Iya, we need to begin countermeasures now!”

“Maybe, if you had done the smart thing and not run straight into our Cover-bar, we wouldn’t have to be so rushed, would we?” She spits. Her voice is like venom, and the Target cowers a little behind her.

“Not that it truly matters. We’ve already moved everything off-world.” Hunter stiffens behind you, and you think it’s from what she’s saying. Until you realise they’re walking towards you.

You and Hunter are crouched, moving around the speeder counter to their pace as you avoid their line of sight. The R-6 stops as it passes, looking at the two of you. Hunter raises his blaster, ready to silence it. As much as you want to stop him, you risk blowing the whole mission if the two of you are caught. The droid says nothing, though. He continues on in that sad pace of his. 

“What? What do you mean?” The target asks her. Iya pays no mind to him, walking up to a smaller speeder with a domed top over the driver’s seat. She presses a button, and the dome retracts. There’s a clattering sound- one of the B-1s dropped something. 

“Since you’re unable to understand plain common, let me state it clearly. Your position is being terminated.” She says the words as if she couldn't care less. The B-1 mindlessly bends down to pick up whatever it dropped- and turns its head. You truly, honestly thought that you and Hunter were fully concealed, but when the droid lets out a loud cry, you realized it had seen your feet.

“Intruders!” The droid calls out. Hunter- who still had his blaster ready from earlier- leans around the side of the speeder in one fluid moment, taking down the original B-1 in two shots. Iya and the target flinch as the air erupts in blaster fire.

 “Were you really so dull that you actually led them to us?!” She screams at him. “Droids! Take care of them!” You and Hunter use the speeder as cover as you fire back at the droids, but it’s still three to two. 

“Don’t let her leave!” Hunter instructs. The two of you duck and weave between speeders as you try to take out the droids. The R-6 is weaving through the chaos, panicking as it tries to catch up with its master in the speeder. The woman is quick to hop into the driver's seat as the dome from before begins to descend. She takes out her own blaster, fires one shot, and slides back inside as it seals her in. The target falls to the ground. She was shooting at him, not you or Hunter.

Hunter jumps out from his cover to fire at the speeder and its engines, but the shots do nothing. The speeder takes to the air as yet another secret wall opens in the back of the garage. You finally take out the last of the four B-1s, but it’s too late. The speeder is already gone. 

Hunter chases after it. You, however, are more preoccupied with the body of the target that lies on the floor.

You run over to the man, nearly tripping over what was left of the droids as you do. You press your fingers to his pulse points, but he’s already gone. 

“Hunter, we have a problem!” You call out to him. He’s still surveying whatever was behind the door. 

“We have multiple.” He answers. You leave the body, walking over to Hunter. The exit you’re looking at is hardly even an exit. It’s a room in the rock, blocked off at all sides but one- downward. The hole in the floor leads directly to a waterway. 

“Shit. It was a submersible?” You ask. 

There’s a sad noise from behind you. You turn around, and amongst the four destroyed droids and one human body, you find the R-6 droid once again. He never made it to the speeder. She left him behind. 

“If that leads directly out into the ocean, they’ll be off planet before we can track them down,” Hunter says, cursing under his breath. He begins to try for his commlink to contact the others, but you stop him.

“Maybe we won't need to.”

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Ch 1: Work for it.

Hunter/Fem!AFAB!Reader - Slow burn, eventual smut. What's up!! After posting the first two chapters on AO3, I'm finally bringing this fanfic back over to Tumblr. I know the hype for TBB has died down a little bit, but it's still raging inside my soul, and this just kind of happened. (Please stick this one out, ch2 came out so much better and is worth the wait, I promise;-;) Tws: minor injuries, Hunter and the others are slightly OOC, and pretty mean at first. Pre-echo bad batch era. The reader does, in fact, grow a spine.

You shouldn't be here.

A nat-born medic, contracted to clone force 99? It shouldn't be possible- it's not possible.

But here you were anyway.

Hunter doesn't trust you. None of them do. You're not even sure if they should. But there are no choices in this war, just paths that have been predetermined for you. Your past is chasing you, and they're unknowingly helping you run from it.

You really hope Hunter will forgive you when it finally catches up.

Masterlist | Next chapter

    “Pay Attention!” Hunter grabs hold of your upper arm, roughly pulling you behind the heavy metal boxes in the cargo bay. Shots whiz above your head as Hunter returns fire on the droids that are following quickly behind Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker. 

    “I am!” You yell back at him, your blaster warm in your hand. Hunter ducks as a shot nearly misses him, and you take the moment to move. You can hear him yell something from behind you as you go for the ramp controls, keeping your cover behind the wall of the marauder. You peek around the corner when you hear the heavy footsteps of the rest of the batch, returning another round of fire before hitting the controls to close the doors. Tech is the first one in, and then Wrecker and Crosshair. The doors close with perfect timing, and Tech is quick to get the marauder in the air.  

    Silence echoes in the ship for a moment as everyone catches their breath.

    “Nice job on the doors, Hunter!” Wrecker cheers, breaking the silence. Hunter only frowns, stretching his shoulder casually as he looks at you- your stomach drops when you see that he’s injured.

    “Wasn’t me.” He grunts, and Wrecker’s smile wavers for a moment. You’re quick to go for your medkit 

    “Well, good job to you too I guess!” Wrecker says, less confidently than before as he watches you scramble. Cross simply rolls his eyes, heading to the cockpit without saying a word. Wrecker follows. You’ve already begun opening the medkit when Hunter walks up behind you. You turn to face him, not really knowing what to say. His face is stern, and with the way he’s acting, you almost think you’ve done something wrong. But you haven’t. Hunter says nothing. He takes some bandages and some bacta spray from the kit and leaves. You practically feel yourself deflating. Two weeks. Two weeks of the same attitude. The same distance. If this is how they treat a nat-born medic, you’d hate to see the way they’d treat a reg. Why did you ever agree to this?

    Kamino was exactly like you thought it would be. Wet, stormy oceans. Clean, sterilized hallways. Multiple faces that all look the same. The hangar is buzzing with life. Starships arriving, leaving, unloading. Clone troopers of every age and rank pass you in neat, straight lines, only stopping to salute the Togruta Jedi who stands tall next to you. In the midst of all of this organised, manufactured work, four helmeted figures stand out amongst the others. Dark armor, red accents, a beaten-up and modified Omicron-cass attack shuttle looming behind them, ramp still on the ground. It’d take a fool not to recognise Clone Force 99.  

    “Are you really sure about this?” You ask, adjusting your standard-issue medpack. The straps are a little long, not fitting your frame as well as it does the clones that it was designed for. A few clone cadets stare at you as they pass, and you give them a small wave. They snap back to attention so fast it almost makes you feel a little guilty. Shaak Ti’s smile never wavers. 

    “I am. You’ll fit right in once you get settled.” Her voice is smooth and confident. You want to believe her, but the longer you stay on Kamino, in these clothes, with this gear, the more out of place you begin to feel. She walks ahead of you just by a hair. Shaak Ti is the picture of elegance and calm. You, on the other hand… You’re not sure you’ve ever been this nervous. 

    One of the four troopers is the first to straighten his spine as the two of you approach, elbowing the tall, wide one that stands next to him before they all come to attention. You can feel the gazes that burn into you, even without being able to see their eyes.  

    “General.” The trooper addresses Shaak Ti with a respectful nod. She nods back, raising a hand to let them know to relax. They take their Helmets off. You were briefed on their Identification numbers beforehand, but it’s practically impossible to match numbers to a face. One thing that the others were definitely right about, though, is that these troopers looked unlike any other clones you’ve met before. Shaak Ti calls your name.

    “This is Sargent Hunter; those behind him are Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair.” You smile back at them, trying to push away the nerves. There’s a tenseness in the air that you can feel clear as day. None of the troopers spare you a glance, really. Not now that their helmets are off. 

    “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m your new me-”

    “Like I’ve said before, general. We don’t need a medic. The four of us have things covered.” Hunter interrupts you. You square your shoulders, a spark of indignation lighting within you. You’ve never had a good poker face, and your frown only deepens when Hunter spares you a passing glance. You hear a snicker from someone behind him. When you look at Shaak Ti, she simply raises an eyebrow. 

    “I seem to recall that we’ve had this conversation before, Sargent.” She says, without missing a beat.

    “We’re all trained in basic first aid, general. Tech takes care of the rest.” The way the Sargent speaks to the general is more comfortable than you’re used to. Seems the rumors were true about their Issue with taking orders. 

    “Hunter, if your team hadn’t outright refused to work with any standard clone medic actively stationed on Kamino, I might have given you more grace when it came to this subject. You’re lucky I went out of my way to find a contracted medic for you instead. You have your orders, as does she.” Shaak Ti sends a smile your way, and you nod back at her. Thank you. Hunter looks at her for a minute, before turning back to his brothers and motioning to the ship with his head. They all split, grabbing things and readying for departure- although you swear you see Crosshair- you think- rolling his eyes along the way. Hunter gives Shaak Ti a polite goodbye before walking off with them. You let out a deep sigh as he does so.

    “You’ll be fine, just give them some time.” Shaak Ti sets a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you feel yourself relax a little bit.

    “I understand, General.” You respond. The words feel foreign in your mouth. She nods, giving your shoulder one last gentle squeeze before leaving. And just like that, you’re alone. almost.

    “I trust that you’ll keep up with us, Medic,” Hunter’s voice almost startles you. They’ve almost completely packed already, and you find yourself walking closer to the foot of the ramp. The wide one- Wrecker, swerves around you, laughing at something as he hauls a large box onto the ship.

    “I think you’ll be surprised.” You retort, bringing your attention back to the sergeant and sending him a tight-lipped smile. He doesn’t nod, but simply stares. Crosshair practically shoulder checks you on his way up the ramp, and you try not to take offense to the way Hunter snickers at it.

    “Good. We won’t be slowing down for you.” Crosshair says, passing Hunter and heading into the ship. The sergeant follows in after him. You’ve only got a few steps onto the ramp before it starts to retract, tripping you up a bit. With hurried steps, you manage to make it inside in time. Once the ramp is up and the doors are closed, no one spares you a glance.

    Real friendly bunch, these guys. 

    The ceiling of the marauder is painted.

    For a while, you didn’t really notice. Dark splotches on dimly lit steel ceilings don’t exactly stand out unless you’ve been staring at them for weeks on end. You had been, though. It’s scruffy and dark, but it’s paint nonetheless. 

    The Marauder isn’t the home you were hoping it would be. Things were… tense. To say the least. The boys were cliquey, as were most clone troopers, but to be honest, they take it to a new level. It’s not like they outright ignore you- but it’s pretty clear that they don’t trust you. Not yet. They established that from the start, and they certainly established that with the shootout from this morning.

    The paint on the ceiling is a skull. Or at least, you think it is. Faded and blotchy. You wonder if one of the boys drew it. Or if it belonged to a brother of theirs. You don’t know how many clones were made for their batch, or how long it’s been just the four of them. How incredibly lonely, to think that they’re all they have left.  You try not to picture the faceless brother who painted it. It was probably just Wrecker, anyway. 

    The ship jumps once it exits hyperspace, and you take that as your cue to get up. You have to watch your head as you jump off of the top bunk, feet planting steadily on the cold floor. The marauder is strangely quiet. Sure, it’s not like anyone other than Wrecker had really talked to you today, but this was quiet even for them. The door to the cockpit is closed, but usually you can still hear the hum of their voices from inside- the door slides open with a shoosh, and the reason for the quiet becomes clear.

    “She’s awake!” Wrecker cheers when you enter, clapping you on the back. The bright blue holo of General Kenobi stands front and center on the dash. You’ve walked in mid-conversation. 

    “Nice of you to join us,” Obi-Wan says pleasantly, calling your name with a familiar tone in his voice. “Its good to see you.” You smile back at the holo, ignoring the questioning look that Hunter and Tech share. 

    “Likewise. Sorry that I’m late, I got carried away with the time.” The lie rolls off your tongue easier than expected. They forgot to wake you- or simply chose not to, you were sure of it. And here you were, covering for them anyway. Spineless. You try to shake the thought, smiling at Obi-Wan, who simply chuckles. 

    “Please, carry on. I can get the details later.” You finish. The general nods, but recounts his brief once again. You feel yourself relax a little at that. For a second, at least.

    It’s not until the general’s holo blinks out that you really understand just where he’s sending you. 

   “Elita-12? Seriously?” Wrecker complains. “Right when I thought we’d get to do something interesting.”  You’ve taken a seat in the cockpit, awkwardly listening to the batch as they bicker- like you had been since you had gotten here. So much for ‘Fitting right in’  huh? 

    “You shouldn’t have expected anything too fun, Wrecker. Not while the medic is here, at least.” Crosshair’s snark isn’t a surprise to you anymore. 

    “I am sitting right here, you know.” You sigh. Crosshair only smirks.

    “Really? It seems you’re good for something, after all.” He retorts. Your hackles raise a little, before you quiet down that spark of anger and annoyance again. You weren’t going to bother. Not with him. Not with any of them. You knew your worth. In time, they would too. Or they wouldn’t. It’s not like you have a choice to be anywhere else. 

    “Don’t relax just yet. Just because the space station is abandoned doesn’t make it an easy mission. “ Hunter’s voice is low and calm. 

    “Hunter is right, the black box could be anywhere on that station. It could take us hours to find it.” Tech says, and you’re pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him talk all day. Right. The black box. That’s all you needed from the station, and then you could leave. 

    “Have you tried downloading the station’s blueprints?” You ask, trying to be helpful.

    “Of course I did,” Tech responds immediately, shaking his head at you like it was a stupid question. He certainly made you feel like it was at least. “The files I can intercept from this distance are too corrupted. We’ll have to go in and scan for it manually.” So, hours of aimlessly wandering. Great. Good for you. You take a deep breath. Everything’s fine. The ship lurches again, knocking you a little unsteady as the large mouth of the station’s hangar begins to open. It’s just a few hours. What could go wrong? 

   Walking into Elita-12 feels like walking into the underworld. Dark. empty. Lit only by emergency lights, and the headlamps on the batch’s helmets. No sound other than that of your heavy footfalls and Tech’s scanner.  It’s not the way it looks that bothers you, though. It’s the way it feels. Like despair, and loneliness, and fear. 

    “Let’s head towards the command center.” Tech states, after a few too many minutes of silence. “I’m still unable to connect to the main databases to retrieve the blueprints, but if I can get the main circuit board up and running, I should have no trouble. “

    “You look a little pale, Medic.” Crosshair comments. You look up at him with a furrowed brow. You can’t see his smirk, but you know it’s there. 

    “I’m fine.” You mumble. Hunter is behind you, and you can feel his heavy gaze on your back. Each room and hallway you clear on your way to the command center is more torn up than the last. Scars from blaster fire, loose wiring hanging from the ceiling, and bloodstains on the floor. You’re not a squeamish person, and you never have been, but the longer you linger in this place, the more you start to feel the gravity of what had happened here. 

    There’s one particular room that you find that sticks with you the most. One close to the head of the station. 

    It’s a bunk room. Two bunks, one durasteel desk that had been built into the wall. Remnants of the cloth blankets still remain on the floor. This room was… scarred. To say the least. Long holes streak across the walls. The bunks were practically cut to pieces- the pieces of the mattress that had been spared marked with dark, ashy singes from the heat. Lightsaber marks. An ominous creaking comes from further down the hallways, and a shiver runs down your spine. The atmosphere is much heavier than any other room you have been in so far. 

    “So how do you know General Kenobi?” Hunter’s voice makes you jump.  You whip your head around to look at him, squinting at the bright light from his helmet. As much of an ass as he is, he still turns it off for you to be able to look at him properly. Good to know that he’s capable of common courtesy. 

    “We met sometime back during my combat-medic training. I’m surprised he even remembered my name, really.” The words come out as second nature; you shift a little, nervously. Hunter walks further into the room to inspect it, and he whistles, standing next to you. 

    “Looks like some Jedi had a hissy fit.” He says. If that was a joke, it didn’t really land. Tech calls out to the two of you from somewhere further down the hallway, and you gladly take it as a chance to get out of this room. As stuffy and dusty as this space station was, stepping out of that door had felt like a breath of fresh air. 

    “Watch your step in the hallway, Sarge. I think the floor is a little- uhh, broken.” You hear Wrecker call out from the end of the hallway. You can’t see him or the others all that well, but you can see the beams of their headlamps somewhere up ahead. You’re walking towards them with smooth steps, just a few feet behind Hunter. Right when you think you might be about to catch up, the Sargent holds an arm out to stop you abruptly. He flicks his chin towards the floor, and finally turns his helmet light back on.

    So that’s what that sound was earlier. 

    “Wrecker, do you want to tell me why the floor is missing?” Hunter barks out at the group ahead of you. Wrecker takes a few steps forward, separated by the oddly deep cavern below you. Tech and Crosshair aren’t with him, and you get the feeling they let him be the one to warn Hunter for a reason. 

Q    “It fell, Duh.” Wrecker laughs, a boisterous sound that quiets down into a nervous ending.

    “Wrecker,” Hunter warns. Wrecker clears his throat.

    “I didn't do it on purpose, Sarge! Tech said you should be able to jump it with enough speed.”

    “How do we know that this whole section won't come down if we do that?” You speak up. Wrecker tilts his head at you, and you sigh. Hunter snaps his head over to the side suddenly. His feet shift back a few feet, and it looks like he's searching the floor below you.

    “Sarge, you alright?” Wrecker asks. You look over at Hunter, unable to read his expression. Then- a loud creaking comes from underneath you as the flooring starts to sink.

    Hunter is quick to tackle you out of the way as the steel floor below you slopes. The section you were standing on is gone- and what should have been safe ground also begins to creak and snap- ready to be next.

    “Hold on!” Hunter yells as you scramble to gain your balance. He uses the back of your coveralls to haul you towards him, reaching an arm under your shoulder to grab hold of you while the floor begins to slope more and more. You’re trying not to panic, but no matter what you reach out to, you can’t grab hold of anything. 

    Hunter finally gets hold of his grappling hook, making a shot right as the floor gives way again. Wrecker yells something you can't hear, but you and Hunter are already falling. You’re so sure that he had made a perfect shot- bracing for the sharp stop once the hook gains purchase on something. There’s just one issue- it doesn’t. 

    Your plummet into this abyss of a space station is disorienting. It felt like it was seconds- it felt like it was hours. What you do know for sure is that Hunter, in all his armor, definitely did not cushion your landing.

    “Fuck.”  The pain takes a second to fully hit you, your arms and legs feeling like pins and needles as you roll off of Hunter. You wiggle your fingers and toes, and once you’re somewhat sure you’re not paralyzed, you do your best to sit up, switching your focus over to Hunter when you hear him groan.

    “Are you okay?” You ask, reaching out to help him sit up.

    “Do I look okay?” He retorts. You make a face at that. Seriously, dude? Can’t he just accept your help for once? You help him stand anyway. He tries to hold his own weight at first, but in the end he gives up, leaning on you for support. 

    “You guys okay?” Wrecker calls out somewhere above you. You can see the light from his helmet, but everything else is pitch black.

    “We’re fine.” Hunter yells back. You do your best not to roll your eyes at the change of his tone. He pushes off of you to stand on his own, and you let him. Something is wrong. You can tell he’s hurt just by a glance, but it’s so hard to see down here you can’t figure out how, or where.

    “Where are we?” You ask. It’s impossible to see down here, but from the sound of it, you’re standing on a grated walkway. 

    “Pretty sure it’s a maintenance tunnel.” Hunter says after a quick glance, before looking back up from where you fell. “Keep going towards the command center. We’ll find a way out from down here.” Wrecker makes a noise of affirmation from above, and you hear his heavy footsteps as he walks back towards the others. 

    “So, how are we supposed to find our way out, exactly?” You ask, after a moment. Hunter turns back to look at you,  before shifting his gaze to the long, dark tunnel that lies ahead. 

    “I guess we’ll just have to see where this goes.” He says, before turning his headlamp back on. The tunnel ahead is brighter than before, but still, like all the other paths in this forsaken place, leads right back into darkness. 

    “Fun.” You mumble. Because there’s no place you’d rather be than stuck in the dark with the Sargent who seems to hate your guts. Hunter limps forward without saying anything else, and you take it as your cue to get moving. It only takes a few steps for you to notice that Hunter is a lot more injured from that fall than he’s letting on.

    “Hunter-”

    “It can wait till we get back to the Marauder. “ He rumbles. You frown.

    “Look, I understand that-”

    “I already told you. It. Can. wait.” He interrupts again.’ You’. They never call you by your name. Just ‘you’. Or ‘The medic’ or ‘that girl’. This time, you can’t bite back your aggravation.

    “Okay, that’s enough.” You say, stopping in your tracks. 

    “Excuse me?” Hunter’s stern tone isnt new to you. He turns a little to look back at you.

“I said that’s enough!” You say again, not bothering to keep your voice low.  “Look. I get that I’m an outsider. I understand that I might be hard to trust, but you need to stop with the bullshit!” Hunter scoffs at that, shaking his head at you as he tries to move on- but you don't give him the chance, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking him backward.

    “Like it or not. I’m just as capable as you are, and I’m here to help. I’m- I am a medic. I was assigned to your troop for a reason, and I can’t help you if you won’t let me!” Hunter reels around to look at you at that, standing tall and intimidating. 

     “Do you really think that this is the first time they’ve tried to force a medic on us?!” He snarls. “The last thing we need on this squad is some random nat-born who only thinks of us as equipment. We didn’t need a reg, and we don’t need you.” The words have taken you aback for a moment, before it twists into the most intense frustration that you think you’ve ever felt.

    “Do you seriously think I’m that shallow?!”

    “Have you tried to prove it otherwise?”

    “YES!” The words echo through the metal walls of the maintenance tunnel, and Hunter is quiet for once. You stand there for a moment, looking at the reflection of yourself you see through the visor on his helmet. You can’t see his eyes. You can't see his face. You can’t feel the way he was feeling, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make your own feelings clear.

    “Look at where we are, Hunter! How many times do I have to try and prove to you that I want to help you- help your brothers- before any of you actually start listening to me!” You say, clenching your fists. “Now you can sit down and let me help you for once, or I’m sedating you and forcing you too.” The words come out like venom, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have thought that hunter looked surprised. Still, he stands in front of you, unmoving.

    “Sit down, Sargent. I’m not going to ask again.” You demand. Hunter turns away from you, and you bite back a sigh. All of that. All of that, and he doesn’t even care. You doubt he was even really listening to you.

    You think he wasn’t, at least, until you hear a screech from his direction. When you look up at Hunter, you see that he’s found some old tool crates and is hauling them over. You watch as he stacks them on top of each other, nudges them once to ensure that they are steady, and sits. Hunter takes off his helmet, setting it to the side so that the headlamp illuminates him better. You stand there, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at you. 

    “Well? Are you going to prove it, or not?”

[theforceiswithdinogoofy]

Hi! This is my first post, but there's many more to come! This particular fic is the first in what I've decided will be a series of short fics of the same prompt with each Bad Batch member.

TW! for fights and nightmares. Hurt/comfort. Spoilers for episode ten of The Bad Batch.

Echo/GN! Reader

Nightmare

....

You weren't sure how this started. 

 

No, that was wrong. You knew exactly how this started, it was just hard to accept. Your chest stung like a bitch even though you know it wasn't completely your fault.

You and Echo had gotten into a fight earlier. After reluctantly leaving Omega with Sid, you and the bad batch took off on another mission, but this one wasn't… it wasn't easy. Not because it was a difficult task, (which it was) it was because of what Echo kept repeating.

It had made you so angry. His talk of this senator not being trustworthy, of his hatred for separatists. As a jedi you were taught to make peace, so why couldn't you let go of this?

"Separatist from the empire, Echo! Not the republic. Are you seriously defending a government that's been trying to kill you?! Who's brainwashed your brothers?" The look he had given you still makes your stomach churn. The absolute anger and rage in his eyes. The fight had gotten so heated that Hunter had to separate the two of you. Out of all the things said- there was only one sentence that burned so brightly in your mind. You had to let go. Release it into the force, but it was hard to forget.

"Do you hear yourself?! You're acting like a separatist sympathizer," his face had fallen into a quiet rage, there was one sentence burning beneath the surface. You clenched your fists, you had to hear it. You needed to, because whatever it was, was so chock full of emotions that if he didn't say it, you would find out through the force anyway.  

"Say it." Echo looked down at you, nose scrunched up in a scowl. "Say it. Echo."

"I guess that they were right when they told us that all jedi were traitors." It stung. Maker, did it sting. You knew it was bad but- this was... Part of you expected for someone to step in. To correct him. But no one did. The empty looks and shifting eyes of the boys around you told you everything you needed to know. You had carried on with blurry vision as you tried not to cry.

 

It was hard to get over something like that, but you still finished the mission. His brothers were kind. And even if they wouldn't admit their distrust at least they continued to act like your friends. Even if their anxieties had surfaced. Echo, however, had not spoken to you since. Despite the fact that the senator was indeed a kind man, with a morally good reason to defy the empire. Despite the fact that Omega had asked him why he was so distant from you. 

And here you are. Lying in bed, alone. Waiting for him to come lay down with you. Yearning for a warm touch. After every fight, and after every difficult mission, he would always come back to bed. Always. You would put aside your anger and stay close for the night, so that the two of you would still be close when you had calmed down in the morning. With how dangerous both of your lives were, you never wanted to sleep alone once only to loose the other the next morning.

So where was he? The metal walls stared back at you from the bunk, and the longer you waited, the more unbearable the sight of the walls became.

When you finally got out of bed and silently searched the ship for Echo, you found him in the galley, laying down on his side and trying to sleep. A sharp sting pierced your chest, but you tried to ignore it.

"Echo?" You whispered. "Are you coming to bed?" Echo stays silent, but his force signature let's you know that he is awake. You sigh, and get down on the floor next to him, facing his back. You try to worm your arms underneath his own to hold him tight, but he wouldn't budge. After a sad moment of laying there with your head pressed against the small of his back, you realize that you can't sleep here. That he needed to be away from you. Your better judgment decided that you needed to be away from him too.

You only got up for a quick moment, returning back to Echo with the blanket and pillow from the bunk. You laid the blanket over him, but simply reached over to press the pillow into his chest. Echo remained silent, and you wondered if he knew about the quiet tears that dripped down your face as you padded back to your shared bunk.

 

You had been curled up in one of his old jackets, slowly drifting to sleep, when you saw it. 

A nightmare. You were on the battlefield again, fighting alongside your friends, protecting them. But something was off.. 

Both sides had gone silent. Your friends disappeared into a thick fog, leaving you alone and panicked as the feeling of dread washed over you. The sounds of Starfighters and blasters and lightsabers grew louder and louder until you were almost deafened with it. 

And then suddenly it stopped. 

Echo stepped out of the fog. The old Echo. Still in his 501st armour. He stood there, looking at you in silence. A voice rang in your ears. His blaster raised to you as he was compelled to commence order 66. 

 

"I guess all jedi are traitors."

 

Like that it was done. You were alone, scared and panting for breath in your bunk, staring at the ceiling. With dry, scratchy eyes you finally realized that you had not fallen asleep at all.

That was Echo's nightmare. Not yours.

You almost scrambled out of bed to go find him, but he was there first. The door slid open, Echo stepping through, just as wrecked as you were with red teary eyes. 

 You slightly turned towards him as the bed dipped and he laid next to you. He mumbled something quiet before covering the both of you in the blanket. You buried your face in his chest, and relished in the feeling of his arm wrapping around you. The close proximity and bond you shared was more than enough for you to sence his sadness and fear, but you had to hold him even tighter when you felt his tears start to fall.

"I'm sorry." The broken words came out hardly above a whisper as Echo buried his face in your hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

You had started to tear up as well, and struggled to slightly separate from the tight embrace. Echo nuzzled against your hands as you brought them to his face to wipe his tears.

"It's okay." You whispered. "I promise Echo, it's okay." He shook his head, pressing a kiss to your palm. 

"No it's not. You know it's not." You held back the tears, scooting closer once again so you could press a kiss to his chin, and then his lips. He returned the sad kiss gently, separating to draw you close to him again. His head rested against your chest, listening to your heart. You almost didn't need the force to know what he was thinking. After a moment of the two of you resting, grounding yourselves with the familiar embrace, he spoke up again.

"I love you so much. I do." You pressed a kiss to his head.

"I know. I love you too."