Get Him, Omega!!!

Get him, Omega!!!

No wonder he left

This is so insanely cool. How many times have I watched it? Yes!

audio seemed fitting

This is absolutely my head canon.

We talk a lot about how traumatized Crosshair is, how much he has been through, what he's had to overcome, and how much our man needs ALL the TLC and hugs and comfort and therapy (and boy oh boy he does!)...

But Hunter strikes me as the kind of person who is equally traumatized and scarred for life (just in different ways) but keeps it buried deep because he's supposed to be the leader and he WILL stay strong, he is fully aware Wrecker spent months barely holding him back from careening off the edge of the cliff and so he's going to work even harder to hold himself together now because Wrecker shouldn't have borne that responsibility, he's going to be there to hug Omega when she sobs from the nightmares and comfort Crosshair when he wakes up in a cold sweat clutching at the hand that's no longer there and convince Wrecker to take a break when he starts to wheeze while walking up the path to the Archium or gets that far-off look in his eyes as he stares at the mangled breastplate hanging up in his room...

He's going to do all this, and he's going to stay acutely aware of all their struggles and will help them through all of it, and he might quietly admit to having a bad dream when Omega talks about it, but he's never, ever, EVER going to tell anyone that he quietly goes to his room to hide his panic attacks and how hard it is to let Omega out of his sight and how difficult it is for him to convince his brothers to go out and try some new hobbies because he is so afraid they're going to get hurt but he can't tell them that and how his throat still feels like it's closing up every time he looks at his siblings and notices the one who isn't there and never will be again...

And the thing is, Omega and Wrecker and Crosshair know how much Hunter is struggling, but they don't know exactly how to help him because he keeps saying he's fine, and he's going to keep saying it because he's the older brother and he's supposed to take care of them and he failed at it so many times and he's NOT going to fail now...

But they keep at it, Omega insists that they all have a "camp out" in the living room all together at least once a week (Hunter doesn't have nightmares then) and Wrecker makes Hunter come with him to try a bunch of new hobbies until Hunter's discovered six new interests and Crosshair who has finally forced himself to go to the memorial at the Archium now somehow manages to drag Hunter along with him every few days and they sit together and remember their brother (until said brother finally comes home, of course)...

And by the time Rex contacts Hunter to let him know the vault kids' families have been found and asks for help getting them all relocated to safety, Hunter watches his family gear up to go, and he realizes... not only are they okay, but he's okay, too.

I need a show about their early days more than anything else in pop culture right now!

Did this a couple days ago and forgor! The Clone Brainrot is giving me memory loss ahahaaha have some Tech and Hunter :)

Very new here and still trying to figure this out but wrote a mini Bad Batch story to try and fill the gaps in my head. Some mentions of grief and loss. Takes place after Season 2 finale. Hope you enjoy.

Hope

Hunter sat in the pilot seat of the Marauder, staring at the hypnotizing blue swirls of hyperspace as his brother, Wrecker, snored loudly from the back of the ship. The hum of the engine, the random clinks and bangs that were ever present background noise a few weeks ago were now so pronounced Hunter would occasionally flinch.

Even so, it was too quiet. Echo had stayed with them for a week or two, but suggested that Rex and his network would be the best shot at Intel that could lead them to Omega. Hunter understood his reasoning but Omega’s words rang in his ears whenever he thought about it.

“…but he’s not here. We’re meant to be a squad”.

They weren’t much of a squad anymore. With Crosshair lost to imperial custody, Omega kidnapped (again), Echo off with Rex and Tech…

Hunter ran his hands through his hair and over his face, stubbornly wiping at the tears that had formed at the thought of his lost brother. He looked to the copilots’ seat to see Tech’s goggles, lifelessly staring back at him.

They hadn’t known what to do with them at first. Wrecker had spent the first two days gingerly cradling them as he moved about the ship. When he finally put them down, in the pilots chair the three of them paused in silent tribute. They had since been moved to the copilot’s seat, always on watch. They couldn’t stay there forever; they all knew that. But it was as good a place as any for now.

Hunter let out a sigh and heard Wrecker grunt and roll over on the bunk. He was unprepared for what was next. Had been all along really. There were no leads, he had no strategy, they were flying but he didn’t really know why or where. Echo’s comms were infrequent at best. Whatever he and Rex were up to, it was time consuming, and he couldn’t help feeling like Omega should be the priority. She had to be.

Hunter had this buzzing in his brain that got louder whenever he thought of Omega, especially the last few days. This was the longest they had been apart since they took her off Kamino. The Marauder seemed so lifeless without her, like every sun in the galaxy had shut off at once. He missed her giggle, and how she hovered too close as he practiced twirling his knife and the way her legs dangled from the gunner mount as she snuggled with Lula. He looked back through the ship to the tooka doll slumped under Omega’s chair.

They had stopped to gather supplies and every time desperately asked around as if by some miracle she had passed through.

“Have you seen a young girl, blonde hair, wide, bright, amber eyes”. They were always asked who she was to them, and Hunter always struggled to answer. She was the youngest member of their squad, their sister technically, but what she really was to him got caught in his throat. It was a word that clones didn’t use, had no use for really… Daughter. That’s what he wanted to say. “She is my daughter, our daughter” but how do you explain that? Besides, he knew it was useless. Omega was lost to Hemlock’s secret base. There would be no trace on some random planet. He knew that but it didn’t stop him asking, every time.

 A button on the far side on the console trilled and Hunter leaned over and flicked it off more aggressively than was necessary. Echo should still be here. He thought glumly. If Echo were missing, Omega would stop at nothing to get him back. How could he leave her? Leave them?

Hunter stood up and kicked the console to his right. Sharp pain radiated from his foot and up his leg like electricity. Yeah, that’ll fix everything, he thought bitterly, a broken toe. He wanted to brake things. He wanted to rage. Where was a battle droid in need of dismembering when you wanted one? He closed his eyes and took a breath. He had to focus. He had to plan. There was no margin for error, or doubt, or pain. He had to push it all down and push all the fear away. Because that’s what it was. Fear.

He had lost Tech. That was on him. His plan, his squad, his loss. He was responsible. He had left Crosshair. That was on him too. What if he was dead now too? What if he never got a chance to make things right? Omega was taken from him, from them. She was a child. She was his responsibility, and he had failed her too.

There was nothing about war that scared him, had every scared him really. It’s what they were made for. He feared for his brothers’ safety from time to time but as the war went on and they pulled off one daring, insane mission after the next, even that didn’t cross his mind. Wrecker using his head as a battering ram, okay. Tech hacking a separatist ship when they were outnumbered thousands to one, sure. Crosshair taking out a Tactical droid for 12 clicks, easy. But since Kamino, since the Republic fell fear was gnawing at his chest and now. After everything that had happened, that feeling seemed like it would consume him completely. The crushing weight of the last few weeks, few years, came crashing down on to him.

His hands shook. His breath rattled deafeningly in his ears. Fat tears fell onto his bandaged arm and refused to stop. He didn’t know how long he stood there, hunched over the console, arm outstretched as though to catch him if he fell, as if he had any strength left.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to catch his breath, just when he thought he would die from his despair and utter hopelessness, he felt a shovel sized hand grab his shoulder and pull him into a suffocating bearhug.

 Even with enhanced hearing, Hunter hadn’t known Wrecker was there until he was on top of him. He was too consumed in his overwhelming grief to notice. His body was shutting down. He was giving up. Wrecker’s mountainous form engulfed him so completely he had to tap on his shoulder to get him to loosen his grip. Hunter wasn’t much of a hugger, but he didn’t try to pull back.

Wrecker pulled away when Hunter’s breathing started to return to normal and gave his brother two sharp claps on the shoulder blade.

 “we’ll get ‘er back Hunta. We’ll get Cross back too.” he said earnestly. “it’s been days since you’ve slept. Why don’t you get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on things up here?”

Hunter steadied himself. His breath, his body, his mind. He gave his brother a curt nod, wiped his face on his uninjured arm and straightened his bandana over his forehead.

He wasn’t the type to lose control. There was always a way, there was always a plan, there was always…hope.