Hunter Bad Batch - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

Chapter summary: heated arguments

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 2610

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 9

Several nights swept over the city, Beka sat on the edge of her bed, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. It was a sturdy wall, but in her mind, it was merely a barrier between her and freedom. The temptation to climb it and run, to attempt another escape from the confines of the mansion and the ever-watchful eyes, was nearly overwhelming. She had done it before in her life, evading and escaping, but this was different.

Just as she began to consider her options more seriously, Wrecker appeared in the doorway. His presence was imposing, and his gaze was sharp as if he could read her thoughts.

"Thinking about making a run for it?" Wrecker asked, his voice low but carrying a note of understanding.

Beka's shoulders tensed, and she glanced at him with a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Maybe I am."

Wrecker's expression softened slightly, though he remained firm. "You know it's not that simple. Hunter's got his reasons for keeping you here, and you know how dangerous it is out there."

"Well no shit, I use to be a damn cop," Beka said angrily.

Before Wrecker could respond, Hunter walked into the room. His expression was a mix of concern and resolve.

"Wrecker, why don't you go check on Omega?" Hunter asked, his tone brokering no argument. "She was asking about you earlier."

Wrecker gave a short nod and stepped out, leaving Hunter and Beka alone. The room felt quieter now, the weight of their unspoken words hanging heavily between them.

Hunter moved closer, taking a seat across from Beka. "I know you're frustrated. It's not exactly a normal situation."

Beka met his gaze, her eyes reflecting her weariness. "It's not just frustration, Hunter. You've been keeping me in the dark, and finally, I learned that someone close to me is trying to hurt me to hurt you. After what, two months now?"

Hunter's face softened with empathy. "I understand. I don't know fully why this is taking longer than we thought it would be. But Beka, running away isn't the answer. It'll only make things worse."

Beka sighed, her eyes drifting back to the wall. "What am I supposed to do then? Just sit here and wait?"

Hunter reached out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "I want to make things better for you, I do. But it's going to take time. Let me figure out a way to make this work."

Beka looked up at him, her frustration mingling with a flicker of hope. "How? How can we make this work?"

Hunter squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll find a way. For now, just try to give it some time. There's more going on than you realize, and I need you to trust me a little longer." Hunter's gaze held hers for a moment longer before he stood up. "I'll see what I can do to make things easier for you. Just... hang in there."

Beka took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why didn't you just let me die that night in the fire or that night when I tried to hang myself? If you really cared about me, you would have left me to make my own choices. You've turned your love into a prison, and I don't know how to deal with that."

Hunter's eyes widened, and for a moment, he was speechless. He took a step back, the weight of Beka's words hitting him hard. "You can't mean that."

Beka's gaze was filled with pain. "I do. I don't know how else to explain it. I'm not the same person I was before. I need to make my own choices, even if they're dangerous. You've made it impossible for me to do that."

Hunter ran a hand through his hair, frustration, and guilt evident on his face. "You think it's that simple? Do you think letting you die was the right choice? I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I've made mistakes, but I did what I thought was best."

Beka's anger flared, her emotions boiling over. "Mistakes? You've made a lot of them! You're treating me like a child like I can't make my own decisions!"

Hunter's frustration matched her own. "It's about keeping you alive! It's about making sure you're safe!"

Beka's voice shook with intensity. "Safe? That's all you said you're doing. You've turned my life into a prison! You think this is what I need?" In a moment of sheer exasperation, Beka's hand flew up, and she slapped Hunter across the face.

The sound echoed sharply in the room, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. Beka's eyes widened in shock at her own actions, her hand grasping her mouth as she realized what she had done. "Hunter, I'm..."

Hunter's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. He grabbed her wrist firmly. "You will never do that again," he said, his voice low and intense. "I understand you're angry, but that's not how we resolve things."

Beka's breath hitched, a mix of regret and defiance surging through her. "You think you can just control everything? You think you have the right to dictate my actions and my feelings?"

Hunter's grip tightened, his face inches from hers, the heat of their argument palpable. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to protect you. But you need to understand that I won't let you push me away by hurting me. I care about you too much."

Beka's eyes searched his, the anger in her fading as she saw the pain and determination in his gaze. "Maybe you don't understand what it's like for me. Maybe you don't realize how suffocating it is to be treated like a prisoner."

The tension between them was electric, the air thick with unspoken feelings. Beka's heart pounded, torn between her anger and the undeniable pull she felt toward Hunter. She wanted to lash out, to escape the confines of their situation, but the intensity of their emotions made it clear that their relationship was far more complex than either of them had fully grasped.

The argument had left both Hunter and Beka charged with emotion, their faces flushed with a mixture of anger and raw vulnerability. They stood close, the air around them crackling with unresolved tension.

Hunter's voice was rough with frustration. "I'm tired of this constant fighting. You think you're the only one suffering?"

Beka, her eyes blazing with equal fire, stepped closer, her breath mingling with his. "You don't understand what it's like to feel trapped. You think controlling me will make everything better?"

Their faces were inches apart, their anger feeding off each other's intensity. Hunter's hands gripped Beka's arms firmly, and she could feel the heat of his touch through her clothes. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to protect you. But every time I try, you push me away."

Beka's pulse raced, she whispered in a breathless voice. "I just want to be free."

Their conflict reached a boiling point. Hunter's anger surged, and he pulled Beka close, his lips crashing against hers in a heated kiss. It was fierce and desperate, a release of all the pent-up frustration and desire they had been holding back. Beka responded with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his hair as they kissed with a wild intensity.

The room seemed to spin around them as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together, their anger melting into a primal need for connection. Their movements were urgent, fueled by a mixture of frustration and passion. Beka struggled to get Hunter's shirt off as Hunter unzipped her dress.

As the kiss deepened, the world outside their immediate bubble ceased to exist. They were consumed by their emotions, their bodies finding a rhythm that matched the tumultuous feelings surging between them. The kiss broke apart and both were working vigorously to get their clothes off. Hunter fully shirtless, undid his pants letting his throbbing hard membrane free. Beka looked at him with hitched breath, all she stood in was her panties and bra.

Beka got to her knees and put Hunter's long dick in her mouth. The taste was salty and sweet of pre cum. Hunter groaned gripping Beka's hair in his hand, "That's it doll all the way down that deep throat of yours."

Beka sucked and worked her tongue all around his shaft making Hunter groan. He pulled her up by her hair and kissed her forcefully. Hunter grabbed Beka picked her up and kissed her again, this time laying her down on the edge of the bed. He pulled her panties off as Beka pulled her bra off, his breath inches away from Beka's cunt. Beka slid her finger into Hunter's hair and before she knew it his face was sucking on her wet needy pussy, "More." Beka breathlessly moaned.

Beka tried to hide her moan behind her hand as she felt Hunter's tongue dance in her. She felt his warm tongue venture to her needy clit. He bit hard once leaving a little yelp from Beka. He then feverishly started sucking on it. Beka could feel every ounce of anger and pain melt away. She moaned in her hand as the other gripped Hunter's long hair. Beka could feel her orgasm coming but stopped, she nearly protested without warning and felt Hunter's dick inside her wet cunt. Hunter took Beka's hands pinning them beside her head. He was there menacingly over her. Hunter bent down and suddenly his whole mouth was over one of Beka's perked-up tits.

Beka tried to stifle her moan, but Hunter only chuckled with her nipple between his teeth, "I know you always tried to hold back your moans, so you better stay fucking quiet." He growled. Beka's brain was a blank, but she only breathed heavily. Hunter hasn't moved an inch inside her. Hunter only smirked wanting her to adjust to his size, her tight pussy was something he was trying to savor. Beka tried to move her hips which Hunter bit down on Beka's nipple hard enough to let a little blood trickle. Beka squeaked. Hunter moved his head to her ear, "You move when I tell you, you moan when I let you, you so happen to cum without my permission, I will fuck you until you are begging me to stop, and I won't. Got it?"

Beka let out a breathy, "Yes."

"Safeword is detective," Hunter whispered a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes sir." Beka gulped.

Hunter let Beka's hands go but one of his hands gripped her neck tightening stronger. Beka took her hands to grasp Hunter's arm.

Without warning Hunter thrusted inside Beka, hard. Beka could feel Hunter's large dick inside her womb. Beka couldn't even moan she covered her mouth with one of her hands to stifle the sound. Hunter chuckled seeing how much Beka struggled under his control. Hunter took his free hand and started massaging Beka's other breast, pinching the nipple and making Beka twitch. Hunter laughed again this time he began to slow fuck her, making Beka's legs almost quiver.

Hunter slapped her leg, "Spread your legs, darling." Beka did as she was told. Hunter then started slapping Beka's breast the stinging pain. Hunter's thrusts were so slow that the teasing was almost unbearable. Beka couldn't do anything but let tears fall from her cheeks at the same time. "My baby wants me to fuck her tight wet cunt?" Hunter asked.

Beka only nodded and mouthed a begging, "Yes please." with no words coming out of her mouth.

Hunter whispered, "Remember if you cum before I say you can I will fuck you till your little cunt is raw and you are begging me to stop."

Before Beka could process anything, Hunter's hips moved into hers, the pace fastening Beka tried so hard to not moan she grabbed a pillow to bite down on. Hunter pulled away scolding her with a slap across the face.

"No cheating." He chuckled.

Beka was so desperate to be quiet that she bit her arm sinking her teeth in till she bit the skin and a bit of blood fell into her mouth. Tears were welling in Beka's eyes as she was agonizing pleasure. Beka felt the rhythm of Hunter's dick in her feeling more and more. She could feel the pressure inside her build up ready for release, but she held on to it. Just then Hunter took his hand and slowly moved it down Beka's body, hovering over Beka's soft little bulge. Without warning Hunter pitched her clit.

This got a loud yell from Beka, "Fuck!" And she felt her orgasm release all over Hunter, Beka knew was about to happen, but she didn't even have time to process her own high.

Hunter then grabbed Beka's wrists pinned them and only clicked his tongue, "You were always bad at holding onto your orgasms love, you know what that means?" He said bending down to her ear.

Beka didn't say a word but felt Hunter started ramming his hips into her harder, Beka at this point was moaning louder. Hunter then without warning flipped Beka on her stomach, he made her perk her ass up and he slapped it before shoving his dick right back into her dripping pussy.

Beka's face was buried in the blankets now, Hunter gripped her hips pushing them into dick. He watched Beka's ass bounce with every hit.

"H-Hunter." Beka breathed.

"What darling?" Hunter smirked.

"I-I'm going to cum." Beka moaned.

"Do it, baby," Hunter said not stopping his hips.

Beka closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the covers till her knuckles were white. She felt a strong relief, but it only lasted a few seconds until Hunter flipped her back on her back, this time he was lying directly on top of her, his face now up to hers. Beka could only moan as Hunter's dick was now in the very raw and tightened wet throbbing cunt of Beka's.

"I want you to cum with me." Hunter ordered, "Count down baby."

"10...9. 8.." began Beka. Beka weaved her hands through Hunter's hair.

"Keep going," Hunter ordered.

"7.6...5..." Beka breathed, "4. 3.."

Before she even reached down to the two digits. Hunter started to kiss her sloppily, Beka's eyes rolled in the back of her head as she felt her last orgasm mix with Hunter's as he let his white load right into her.

When their kiss finally broke, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. The anger had not disappeared, but it had transformed into something else entirely—an intense, raw connection that left them both feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Hunter gently pulled out of Beka, and he saw her cunt dropping his cream. He took his fingers and slid them down her pussy and made Beka taste it, "Taste what we made together." He said forcing his fingers down his throat. He then laid down beside her. Hunter's arms wrapped around Beka, his touch gentler now as he looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice rough but sincere. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just needed you to see how much I care."

Beka's gaze softened, her anger giving way to a deep, conflicted longing. "I know."

Their breaths mingled as they stood close, the anger that had fueled their earlier actions now a distant memory. They were left with the aftermath of their confrontation, their emotions raw but their bond deepened in a way that neither of them had expected.

List of Stories that will coming soon.

Bad Batch x Supernatural AU

Star Wars Modern Time AU

Star Wars Destiny Choice Sequal

Star Wars Destiny Choice Prequal

Star Wars Western Times AU

Bad Batch Deaging (maybe?) (use to write a lot deaging stories)

Star Wars Ghostbusters

Star Wars medieval times au

Not in this order but the stories are coming soon and already in the works!

Chapter summary: Beka discovers her old passion

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 2562

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 10

Beka woke up alone, her body aching and a deep sense of exhaustion settling over her. She groaned softly, the events of the previous night replaying in her mind with vivid clarity. The argument, the heated passion, the release—it all felt like a surreal blur. She forced herself to get out of bed and dressed.

Her routine had become almost mechanical—wake up, get dressed, and prepare to be followed by Wrecker. Today was no different. As she made her way to the kitchen, she saw Echo leaning out a window.

"Maybe you should do something for her," Echo suggested, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

Hunter glanced up at Echo, then over to where Beka was heading. His brow furrowed, but he nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

As Beka continued her aimless wandering through the mansion, she found herself drawn to a door she hadn't noticed before. It was tucked away at the end of a corridor, partially hidden by a heavy curtain. Intrigued, she pushed the door open, revealing a room bathed in shadows and dust.

She stepped inside, the faint scent of old paper and wood hitting her nostrils. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight before her. The room was filled with musical instruments—an upright piano, a collection of vinyl records, and various string and wind instruments, all coated in a thick layer of neglect. A grand piano stood in the center, its once-polished surface now dull and forgotten.

Beka's fingers brushed against the keys of the grand piano, producing a soft, hesitant note that echoed in the quiet room. She turned to Wrecker, who had followed her inside, his expression a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice filled with awe.

Wrecker shrugged, glancing around the room. "This was a music room my parents built. They loved music and wanted us to have a place to learn and play. But none of us really took an interest in it."

Beka's eyes roamed over the vinyl records, some of which were classics she recognized, while others were obscure titles she'd never heard of. She pulled one out and read the label, a smile tugging at her lips as memories of her own musical past flooded back.

"It's a shame," she said softly, placing the record back. "Music is a gift. It can bring so much joy."

Wrecker nodded, though his expression remained impassive. "Guess we were too busy with other things. Hunter tried a few times, but it never stuck."

Beka's fingers traced the outline of the piano keys once more. "Mind if I play something?"

Wrecker shook his head. "Go ahead."

She sat down on the piano bench, her hands hovering over the keys. Taking a deep breath, she began to play a soft, melancholic tune that filled the room with its haunting melody. The notes flowed effortlessly from her fingertips, each one a testament to the years of practice and passion she had once poured into her music.

Wrecker watched in silence, his usual guarded expression softening as he listened. For a moment, the tension between them seemed to melt away, replaced by a shared appreciation for the music that transcended their circumstances.

When Beka finished, she looked up at Wrecker, a faint smile on her lips. "Beautiful piano."

Wrecker nodded, a rare hint of a smile touching his own lips. "You're good. Really good."

She chuckled softly. "I used to be better. But it felt good to play again."

Wrecker's eyes flickered with something akin to understanding. "Maybe you should keep playing. It might help with everything going on."

Beka considered his words, her fingers absently tracing the piano keys. "Maybe I will."

As they left the room, Beka felt a renewed sense of hope. The music room had been a hidden gem, a reminder of the power of music to heal and bring people together. And perhaps, in this place of confinement and uncertainty, it could become a refuge for her once more.

Beka spent the next few days tirelessly working in the music room. She carefully dusted off each instrument, tuned the piano, and brought life back into the neglected space. The room gradually transformed from a dusty relic into a vibrant sanctuary of sound.

One afternoon, as she was tuning a guitar, she heard footsteps approaching. She glanced up to see Echo and Tech standing in the doorway, their expressions a mix of curiosity and surprise.

Wrecker, who had been dutifully watching her from a corner of the room, looked up as well.

"What's going on?" Echo asked, stepping inside and glancing around at the now clean and organized room.

Wrecker shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Beka's been fixing up the instruments. She's pretty good at it."

Tech walked over to the piano, running his fingers along the polished surface. "I forgot we even had a music room," he said, his voice tinged with admiration. "This place looks amazing."

Beka set down the guitar and wiped her hands on a cloth, a satisfied smile on her face. "It's been a lot of work, but it's worth it."

Echo approached the piano, watching as Beka adjusted the tuning pegs on a violin. "I've never seen you so... happy," he remarked.

Beka looked up at him, a glimmer of warmth in her eyes. "Music has that effect on me. It's a way to escape, to express myself. It's been therapeutic."

Tech nodded, his analytical mind already considering the implications. "Music can be a powerful tool for mental and emotional well-being. It's good to see you engaging with it."

Wrecker, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up. "She's been working hard. Maybe you should give her some space to enjoy it."

Beka chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I don't mind the company. It's nice to share this with someone."

Echo and Tech exchanged a glance, then turned their attention back to Beka. "Would you mind if we joined you?" Tech asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice. "I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano."

Echo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and I wouldn't mind picking up a few things."

Beka's smile widened, and she gestured for them to come closer. "I'd be happy to teach you. It's never too late to start learning."

As the afternoon turned into evening, the music room came alive with the sound of melodies and laughter. Beka patiently guided Tech's hands over the piano keys, showing him the basics, while Echo strummed a few tentative chords on the bass. Wrecker watched from his corner, a rare look of contentment on his face. For the first time since Beka had arrived, the mansion felt less like a prison and more like a home. And as Beka played a soft, soothing tune on the piano, she couldn't help but feel like her pain was getting smaller.

On one particular evening, Tech crouched over the record player, his fingers deftly adjusting its intricate components. The soft crackle of the vinyl filled the room as he carefully placed the needle on a record. Music flowed from the speakers, filling the air with a rich, warm melody.

Beka lounged on the couch nearby, her head resting on her arms as she listened. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be carried away by the music. A smile tugged at her lips as memories of performing on stage and practicing in quiet rooms like this one flooded her mind. Without realizing it, she began to sing along with the record. Her voice blended seamlessly with the music, adding a layer of emotion and depth to the melody. The sound of her singing was pure and heartfelt, echoing through the room and drawing the attention of everyone present.

Tech paused his work, looking up in awe. He hadn't heard her sing like this before, and it was captivating. Echo, who had been strumming the guitar, stopped to listen, his eyes widening in appreciation. Wrecker, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a rare smile forming on his lips. He glanced at Echo and Tech, who were equally entranced by Beka's voice.

As Beka continued to sing, she opened her eyes and noticed the attentive audience she had gathered. She blushed slightly but didn't stop, letting the music carry her. Her voice conveyed a range of emotions – joy, sorrow, hope – all blending together to create something beautiful.

When the song ended, there was a moment of silence before Tech spoke, his voice filled with admiration. "Not bad."

Echo nodded in agreement. "Wow, Hunter said you were a singer, but we didn't realize that good of one."

Beka blushed, "Thanks."

Wrecker pushed off the wall and approached her, his expression softer than usual. "You should sing more often. It's... nice." His usual intimidating stature had a softer side to it.

Beka chuckled, touched by his rare compliment. "Maybe I will."

Tech finished his adjustments on the record player and stood up, brushing off his hands. "The record player should be good to go now. We can listen to more music if you'd like."

Beka's smile widened. "That sounds nice."

As the music resumed, Beka continued to sing, her voice filling the room with warmth and light. For a moment, the tensions and fears that had plagued them all seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of shared music. Beka found a new routine from there on, her fingers danced over the piano keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Tech stood beside her, watching intently as she demonstrated the basics of playing. "Fascinating how just music is played with just a mix of keys."

"See, it's all about getting a feel for the keys and knowing where to place your fingers," Beka explained. "Why don't you give it a try?"

Tech sat down on the piano bench, his posture stiff with concentration. He placed his fingers on the keys and attempted to replicate Beka's movements. The first few notes were hesitant, but Beka's encouraging smile gave him the confidence to continue.

"You're doing great, Tech," Beka said, her voice warm and supportive. "Just keep practicing."

As Tech played, Beka began to sing softly, her voice guiding him through the song. The combination of her voice and the piano created a soothing harmony that filled the room. The sound of music and singing soon drew the attention of others in the mansion. Phee and Omega, curious about the source of the beautiful melody, wandered into the room. They listened in awe as Beka's voice rose and fell with the music.

Omega, holding Gonky and Batcher on their leashes, walked straight into the room and sat down on the floor, her eyes wide with wonder. Phee leaned against the doorway, a smile spreading across her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Beka's song came to an end, and the room was filled with appreciative silence. Tech looked up at her, "That was amazing, Beka. Thanks for teaching me."

Beka smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. "You're a quick learner, Tech. Keep practicing, and you'll be playing like a pro in no time."

Omega couldn't contain her excitement any longer. "Beka, can you sing another song?"

Beka laughed softly. She looked between the brothers who only nodded an approval. "Sure."

Omega's face lit up as she thought for a moment. "Can you sing something happy?"

Beka nodded, her fingers finding the keys once more. "I think I know just the song." As Beka began to play, everyone melted into the music.

In that moment, surrounded by music, Beka felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a long time. When the song ended, Beka turned to Omega, who was still beaming with joy. She reached out and patted the space on the piano bench next to her. "Come sit with me, Omega. I'll show you a few things about the piano."

Omega's eyes sparkled with excitement as she quickly made her way to the bench and sat down beside Beka. "I've always wanted to learn!" she exclaimed.

Beka smiled warmly. "Then let's start with something simple. Place your fingers here." She guided Omega's hands to the keys, showing her the basic position. "Now, press these keys in this order."

Omega followed Beka's instructions, the notes sounding clear and precise. She giggled with delight. "It sounds pretty!"

"It does. I used to teach Jetto this way," Beka agreed, her voice full of encouragement. "Now try it again."

As Omega played, Beka sang a simple, cheerful tune. Omega's concentration was intense, but she couldn't stop smiling as she matched her notes to Beka's singing.

Wrecker watched from a distance, his usual stern expression softening as he saw how happy Omega was. For a moment, his guard seemed to drop, and he let out a contented sigh.

As they continued to play and sing, the door opened, and Hunter stepped in, drawn by the music. He paused, taking in the scene: Beka teaching Omega, Phee, and Tech slow dancing together, and even Echo and Wrecker relaxed and enjoying the moment.

Hunter's heart swelled with emotion. He approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but Omega noticed him and gave him a warm smile. "Hunter, come join us," she invited.

Hunter shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I think I'll just watch for now."

Omega only smiled as Beka looked into Hunter's eyes and returned her attention to Omega, who was now more confident with the keys. "You're doing great, Omega. Let's try a different song now."

"Okay!" Omega beamed happily.

They continued playing and singing, and the room filled with laughter and music. Hunter watched, feeling a mix of pride and longing. He realized how much he wanted this kind of happiness to be a regular part of their lives.

After a while, Beka leaned over to whisper to Omega, "You're a natural. Keep practicing, and you'll be amazing."

Omega smiled with pride. "Thank you, Beka. I will."

As the day turned to evening, the music room felt like a haven of warmth and joy, a stark contrast to the tension that often filled the mansion. Beka's presence had brought a new light to their lives, and for once, everyone seemed to be at peace.

After everyone had settled in for the evening, Hunter pulled Beka aside taking her hand in his. Hunter stepped closer, gently taking both of her hands in his. "This room is yours, darling," he said softly, his gaze locking with hers. "Only yours. A place where you can create, sing, play... whatever your heart desires."

Beka stared with surprise overwhelmed by the gesture. She had always dreamed of having a space like this, a sanctuary where she could lose herself in music. And now, Hunter had made that dream a reality.

"Hunter, I don't know what to say," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion.

Hunter smiled, his hands squeezing hers reassuringly. "You don't have to say anything, darling. Just promise me you'll use it like you have today, that you'll fill this house with music."

Beka nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. "I will." She whispered, stepping closer to him.

Hunter smiled and kissed her forehead. He looked at Echo who gave an approval nod.

Chapter summary: the lines of trust and baked goods

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 4510

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 11

For days, the music room was filled with the sounds of laughter and melodies as Beka continued teaching Omega the piano. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the usual tension that lingered in the mansion.

As they played, Tech was fiddling with the radio, trying to get a better signal. Suddenly, the crackling stopped, and a clear voice came through. "And now, we have a special tribute to Miss Ribbon Singer. If you're out there listening, we miss you and hope to hear your voice again soon."

Everyone in the room paused, their attention drawn to the radio. The familiar opening notes of one of Beka's songs began to play. It was a hauntingly beautiful melody about heartbreak and finding purpose.

Beka's face softened with a mixture of nostalgia and pain. Beka walked over to the couch and sat down, her eyes closing as she listened to her own voice fill the room. The lyrics echoed through her mind, bringing back memories of the life she had left behind. She began to sing along softly, her voice blending with the recording. Her voice was filled with emotion, each word resonating with the struggles and triumphs she had experienced. Omega, Wrecker, Echo, Tech, and Phee watched in silence, captivated by the raw power of her performance.

As the song continued, Hunter entered the room, drawn by the familiar sound. He stopped in the doorway, watching Beka with a look of deep affection and regret. He had missed her voice, missed the way she could transform a room with just a few notes. Wrecker, who had been leaning against the wall, looked at Hunter and then back at Beka. For once, he didn't say anything, just listened.

The song reached its end, the lyrics speaking of finding a new purpose after the heartbreak. Beka's voice was strong and clear, but there was an underlying sadness that touched everyone in the room. Beka opened her eyes, tears glistening as she looked at her audience.

Omega moved closer, taking Beka's hand in her small one. "That was beautiful Beka."

Beka smiled softly, squeezing Omega's hand.

Hunter stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Beka. "Your voice... it's something special darling."

Beka looked at him, her expression a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "I used to think so too."

Phee broke the tension with a light laugh. "Well, I think it's unanimous. We all think you're singing incredible."

Tech nodded in agreement. "Your music has a rare talent, you my friend have a rare talent."

"Friend?" Beka asked looking surprised.

"Don't get too used to it." Echo chuckled.

Wrecker, uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "You should sing more often. It... it makes things better around here."

When everyone was settling down for the night, Beka had spent that entire night replaying the events in the music room repeatedly in her mind. With renewed determination, she decided to take a step she hadn't taken before: ask for something for herself.

The next morning, as she wandered the mansion with Wrecker trailing behind, she gathered her courage. Wrecker was quiet, but she could sense his lingering curiosity from the night before.

"Hey, Wrecker," she began, her voice hesitant but steady.

Wrecker looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering if... you could get me something." She paused, gauging his reaction.

Wrecker frowned, crossing his arms. "If you're thinking I'm gonna let you outside the mansion grounds, you're outta luck."

Beka shook her head quickly. "No, it's not that. I don't want to go outside for once." She took a deep breath. "I just... I want a journal. So, I can write music again."

Wrecker's frown deepened, but it wasn't out of anger. It was more of a surprise and contemplation. "A journal?" he repeated as if the idea was foreign to him.

"Yes, just a journal. I used to write songs for my band and other celebrity singers, and I thought..." She trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Wrecker stared at her for a moment before sighing. "Just because we had a good time last night doesn't mean I can start bending the rules for you," he grumbled.

Beka's heart sank a little, but she kept her voice calm. "I understand."

Wrecker looked away, scratching the back of his head. "I'll talk to Hunter about it," he said finally.

"Thank you, Wrecker," Beka said sincerely.

He shrugged. "Don't thank me yet. No promises."

A short while later, Wrecker knocked on the door to Hunter's study,

"Come in." He said through the closed door.

Wrecker opened the door and saw Hunter going over some paperwork. "Hey, Hunter, Beka's asking for a journal. Says she wants to write music."

Hunter looked up from his work, considering the request. "A journal, huh? That sounds harmless enough."

Before Hunter could decide, Crosshair appeared in the doorway, his expression cold and calculating as usual. "You really think that's all she wants it for?" he asked, his tone dripping with skepticism. "She could be planning something. Writing down information, keeping notes... who knows what she's really up to?"

Wrecker frowned, conflicted. "She sounded genuine to me, Crosshair. I don't think she's up to anything. She just wants to write music."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze never leaving Hunter. "You're too trusting, Wrecker. We can't afford to let our guard down. If she's hiding something, we need to know."

Hunter sighed, rubbing his temples. "Crosshair, I get your concern, but we can't keep treating her like a prisoner forever. If writing music helps her, it might ease some of the tension around here."

Crosshair remained unconvinced. "Just don't be surprised if it backfires."

Hunter met Crosshair's gaze evenly. "I'll take responsibility if it does. But for now, let's give her the benefit of the doubt."

Wrecker nodded, feeling a bit relieved by Hunter's decision. "I'll get her the journal, then."

Crosshair huffed but didn't push the issue further, instead turning and leaving the room with a lingering air of distrust. As Wrecker walked out to find a journal for Beka, Hunter called after him. "Wrecker, pick her out a nice one."

Wrecker nodded again and left, determined to find the journal and see if it really was just about the music—or if Crosshair's suspicions had some merit.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Beka couldn't help but feel anxious, wondering if Hunter would agree to her request. The minutes felt like hours, and she found herself pacing the halls, trying to distract her racing thoughts.

Finally, in the afternoon, she saw Wrecker approaching her with a small notebook and a pen in his hand. Her heart leaped at the sight.

"Hunter said it was okay," Wrecker said gruffly, holding out the items to her.

Beka took them, her hands shaking slightly. "Thank you," she whispered, gratitude welling up in her eyes.

Wrecker just nodded, an awkward smile tugging at his lips. "Don't get all mushy on me now."

She laughed softly, clutching the journal to her chest. "I won't."

As she turned to head back to the music room, she felt a sense of relief and excitement. She finally had an outlet for her emotions, a way to channel her thoughts and feelings into something creative and meaningful.

That evening, as she sat at the piano with her new journal, she felt a spark of inspiration she hadn't felt in a long time. She began to write, the words flowing easily, accompanied by the melodies in her mind.

The mansion seemed a little brighter that night, the atmosphere lighter. Beka was beginning to find her way back to herself, one note at a time.

Beka spent hours at the piano, her new journal opened in front of her, filled with sheet music and lyrics. Her fingers danced over the keys as she hummed melodies, her mind completely absorbed in the creative process. For the first time since her capture, she felt a sense of purpose and fulfillment.

Wrecker, who had been keeping a watchful eye on her, began to grow concerned. He was used to her being quiet and reserved, but now she was almost obsessive, barely leaving the music room. Every time he checked on her, she was either scribbling furiously in her journal or playing the piano with intense focus.

One afternoon, he found her at the piano once again, her fingers moving swiftly across the keys as she sang softly to herself. Her voice filled the room with a hauntingly beautiful melody.

"Beka," he called gently, trying to get her attention. She didn't respond, completely lost in her music. "Beka," he said louder, stepping closer.

She finally looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance. "Oh, Wrecker. I didn't see you there."

Wrecker frowned, crossing his arms. "You've been at this for hours. You need to take a break and eat something."

Beka smiled a genuine, bright smile that made her eyes sparkle. "I'm fine, really. I haven't felt this good in a long time. The music... it's helping me."

Wrecker's frown deepened. "I get that, but you still need to take care of yourself."

She sighed, her fingers still resting on the keys. "I know. I just... I don't want to stop I got a good melody going, don't want to lose that."

Wrecker shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Just don't overdo it, okay?"

"I won't," Beka said, smiling like a child on Christmas.

He nodded, turning to leave. "I'll bring you something to eat. You better take a break when I get back."

Beka laughed softly. "Alright, I will."

As Wrecker left the room, Beka turned back to her journal, the smile never leaving her face. Hours passed, and true to his word, Wrecker brought her food and made sure she ate. Though she was reluctant to step away from the piano, she knew he was right.

As she sat with Wrecker, eating a simple meal, she realized how much things had changed. She was still a captive in the mansion, but she had found a small piece of happiness. And for now, that was enough.

That night, Crosshair paced the living room, his movements sharp and restless. The mansion's grand hall, usually a place of bustling activity, felt unusually tense as he brooded over his brothers' interactions with Beka.

"Alright," Crosshair said, his voice edged with frustration, "I need to know what you all really think of Beka. Is she really as harmless as you're making her out to be, or are we missing something?"

Wrecker glanced up from his meal, his expression thoughtful. "I don't see her as a threat. She's just a woman trying to get by. She's been working on music and teaching Omega. She's not causing any trouble."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed, his skepticism growing. "Teaching Omega? That's not something I'd expect from someone who's supposed to be harmless. What about the rest of you?"

Echo, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke. "She's been respectful and kind. She's just trying to make the best of a bad situation. There's no sign that she's a threat."

Tech, absorbed in his work, nodded in agreement. "Her focus on music and helping Omega seems genuine. There's no evidence suggesting she's plotting anything. If anything, she's been a positive influence."

Crosshair's irritation flared. "Wrecker, you mentioned Omega spending more time with her. Why wasn't I informed about this sooner?"

Wrecker shifted, uncomfortable. "I didn't think it was a big deal. Omega has been spending time with Beka ever since she entered the mansion. She seems to enjoy it."

Crosshair's anger erupted. "Omega is spending too much time with her. This is exactly what I feared! She shouldn't be around someone we don't fully trust. For all we know, Beka could be using this as a way to manipulate her."

Wrecker's face reddened, his patience wearing thin. "Look, Crosshair, Omega's been happier lately. Beka's not causing any trouble. She's helping her, and that's all that matters."

Crosshair slammed his fist on the table, rattling the dishes. "I don't give a damn about how happy she makes Omega! We don't know what Beka's true intentions are. What if she's using this to get closer and eventually hurt us?"

Echo stepped in, placing a firm hand on Crosshair's shoulder. "Crosshair, calm down. We've seen no evidence of manipulation. Beka's been a positive presence in Omega's life. We need to give her a chance."

Crosshair glared at Echo, his anger unabated. "Fine. But I want to keep a close watch on her. I'm not going to let my guard down just because she's playing nice."

Echo sighed, trying to maintain control of the situation. "That's fair but remember that she's not the enemy. We need to see if her actions match her words. For now, let her be."

Crosshair's expression remained stormy as he turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving Echo, Tech, and Wrecker to exchange worried glances. They hoped that Beka's actions would eventually prove her intentions, but for now, they had to navigate the uneasy balance between suspicion and trust.

Beka woke up daily routine, instead of Wrecker this morning she saw Crosshair at her door. Beka only rolled her eyes. Her daily routine had become a small sanctuary for her amid the tension in the mansion. Each morning, she wandered through the garden, her journal in hand, writing lyrics and jotting down melodies that had been occupying her mind. It was a ritual that gave her a semblance of normalcy.

She walked along her usual path, she spotted Crosshair again lingering in the shadows. His presence was an unwelcome shift in her routine, but she tried to ignore him, focusing on the pages of her journal. She headed straight for the music room, where she had spent countless hours restoring the old piano and immersing herself in her music. Crosshair followed her closely, his gaze never wavering from her. As she settled into the room and began to play, he made his move. With a swift motion, he snatched the journal from her hands, his eyes narrowing as he flipped through the pages.

"Hey!" Beka yelled.

"What's this?" Crosshair demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory. "Are you writing some sort of secret message?"

Beka's eyes widened in shock and anger. "It's just my songs. They're not secrets. They're just... personal."

Crosshair's face hardened, his suspicion palpable. "You've been given too much freedom. Who knows what you're really plotting?"

Beka's hands trembled as she reached out for the journal. "I'm not plotting anything! It's just music. You have no right to take this away from me!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she struggled to keep her voice steady.

Crosshair's expression remained unmoved, his eyes cold as he shoved the journal into his coat pocket. "You're not in a position to question my decisions. If you're hiding something, I'll find out."

With that, he stormed out of the music room, leaving Beka sobbing quietly. Wrecker, who had been stationed outside the door, stepped in hesitantly. His face was a mixture of concern and frustration. "Beka, I'm sorry," he said softly. "Crosshair's orders are final, but I don't like this either."

Beka wiped her tears and nodded, feeling the weight of Crosshair's actions. Wrecker reluctantly resumed his position, shadowing her every step as she moved through the mansion. The once comforting routine had been tainted by Crosshair's intrusion.

Crosshair, furious, made his way to Hunter's office. He barged in without knocking, his anger barely contained. "Hunter," Crosshair snapped, "you're giving Beka too much freedom. She's clearly hiding something in that journal. We need to be more vigilant."

Hunter looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation. "What's going on, Crosshair? She's been under close observation. What's the problem now?"

Crosshair's frustration boiled over. "She's been allowed too much leeway. I'm convinced she's plotting something. We can't afford to be complacent. I've already seen enough to know she's not to be trusted. We need to read through this," Crosshair said, his voice low but firm. "I'm telling you, she's hiding something. There could be secret messages in here."

Hunter glanced at the journal, then back at Crosshair. "You really think she's capable of that?"

Before Crosshair could respond, Echo entered the room, overhearing the conversation. He shook his head, his tone calm but resolute. "It's just music, Crosshair. I've seen her writing in it. They're songs, nothing more."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed, a mixture of suspicion and frustration flickering across his face. "You're just as too trusting, Echo. She could be coding messages into the lyrics, passing information under our noses."

Echo stepped closer to the desk, his gaze steady. "You need to stop this, Crosshair. Not everything is a conspiracy. Beka's just trying to cope, like the rest of us. You're looking for problems where there aren't any."

Hunter listened to the exchange in silence, his eyes moving between the two of them. Finally, he picked up the journal, flipping through a few pages. The neatly written lyrics stared back at him, lines of music and poetry that seemed to speak more of heartache than treachery.

He closed the journal and set it back down. "Echo's right. These are just songs. We're all on edge, but that doesn't mean we need to invent threats. Let's give her some space." Hunter's brow furrowed. "And what do you expect me to do? We can't keep her locked up forever. She needs some degree of freedom to maintain her sanity. I trust her enough to give her space."

Crosshair clenched his jaw, clearly unhappy, "Trust is one thing, but this is reckless. If she's planning anything, we need to know. I suggest we take further measures to ensure she's not a threat."

Hunter's tone grew steely. "You're crossing a line, Crosshair. I'm not going to let your paranoia dictate our actions. We're keeping an eye on her, but we also need to respect her as a person. I won't have this escalate into a situation where she feels imprisoned and targeted."

Crosshair's eyes blazed with defiance. "Fine. But don't come crying to me if something goes wrong because you were too soft on her."

Hunter's voice grew firm. "We'll handle it my way. If you can't accept that, then maybe you need to rethink your approach."

Crosshair stormed out, his anger far from abated, leaving Hunter to ponder the growing tensions within the mansion. The balance between vigilance and empathy was becoming increasingly precarious, and the consequences of their decisions were yet to fully unfold.

Echo stayed behind and Hunter handed him the journal and then gestured to Beka who was sitting outside.

Outside, Beka sat in the garden, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her hands tightly in her lap. The journal that had been her refuge was now missing, and the absence of it only deepened her despair. Wrecker, though standing watch from a distance, felt helpless as he observed her suffering.

Echo approached quietly, carrying the journal. He knelt beside her, careful not to startle her. "I've got something for you," he said softly, extending the journal toward her.

Beka looked up, her eyes red and swollen. She took the journal from Echo's hand, holding it as though it were a lifeline. Her fingers brushed over the cover, the familiar texture bringing a small measure of comfort. "Thank you, Echo," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Echo sat down beside her, watching as Beka clung to the journal. "I skimmed through some of the songs while I was getting it," he said gently. "They're beautiful. You've put so much of yourself into them."

Beka nodded, her tears slowing as she took in Echo's words. "I just want to be able to share it without feeling like I'm being watched or judged."

Echo offered a reassuring smile. "I understand Beka."

Beka's grip on the journal tightened, her gaze reflecting a mix of gratitude and lingering sadness. "I just don't understand why it's so hard for them to see that it's not a threat. It's just something I love."

Echo placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sometimes people are more afraid of what they don't understand. But that doesn't mean you should have to hide who you are. You're stronger than you think, and it's okay to keep pursuing what makes you happy."

Beka managed a small, appreciative smile as she looked at Echo. "Thank you. It helps to know that someone understands."

Echo nodded, standing up. "Just remember, you're not alone in this. We're all trying to figure things out, but you're not facing this alone."

As Echo left, Beka took a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination. She opened the journal and began to write, the familiar act bringing her a measure of solace amidst the ongoing uncertainty.

The mansion was quiet as the night deepened, a calmness settling over the halls as if the very walls were taking a breath. But in the kitchen, there was a different kind of energy—one of warmth and light.

Beka, her black hair pinned back, stood at the counter with a smile tugging at her lips. Omega was perched on a stool beside her, her small hands busy mixing a bowl of dough. The kitchen smelled of freshly grated orange zest, sugar, and butter.

"Now, just a little more flour," Beka said, guiding Omega's hand as the girl carefully added the final ingredient.

Omega beamed up at Beka, her cheeks already dusted with flour. "What are we making again?"

Beka chuckled. "Orange drop cookies, these cookies are going to be a real treat."

As they continued working, the rich, sweet scent of orange drop cookies began to fill the kitchen, seeping into the hallway beyond. It wasn't long before the aroma caught the attention of the mansion's other occupants.

Phee was the first to enter, her sharp eyes narrowing at the sight of the brothers lingering near the door. "What's got you all standing around like lost puppies?" she quipped, brushing past them.

Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo exchanged glances, skepticism written on their faces. Wrecker, in particular, crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Beka as if he were waiting for her to slip up. But Phee ignored them, striding over to where Beka and Omega were placing dollops of icing onto the sweet pastries.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" Phee asked with a grin, leaning over the counter to get a closer look.

"Orange drop cookies," Beka replied, her tone light and friendly. "Want to try one?"

Phee didn't need to be asked twice. She snatched a warm cookie from the tray, popping it into her mouth. Her eyes widened as the bright, citrusy flavor burst across her taste buds, followed by the rich, buttery sweetness.

"Oh, these are dangerous," Phee declared, grabbing another one. "You need to be the cook around here. Seriously."

The boys watched in silence as Phee devoured the cookies, their skepticism wavering. Phee, noticing their hesitation, rolled her eyes. "What, are you afraid the cookies are poisoned?" she teased, reaching for another one. "Just try them already!"

Echo was the first to move, stepping forward cautiously. He picked up a cookie, turning it over in his hand before taking a tentative bite. His eyes widened slightly as the bright, citrusy flavor hit his tongue.

"Wow," Echo muttered, his voice laced with genuine surprise. "These are... really good."

Tech, ever the analyst, adjusted his glasses and reached for a cookie. He took a small bite, his brow furrowing as he chewed. After a moment, he nodded approvingly. "The balance of sweetness and acidity is excellent. The texture is light, with just the right amount of crispiness on the edges."

"Don't overthink it, Tech," Phee said with a laugh. "Just enjoy it."

Wrecker, who had been eyeing the cookies since the smell first reached him, couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed one and shoved it into his mouth in one big bite. His eyes practically sparkled as he chewed.

"Maker, these are amazing!" Wrecker exclaimed, reaching for another—and then another—until the tray was nearly empty. "Beka, you gotta make more of these!"

"I already have more in the oven," Beka replied with a grin, watching as Wrecker continued to stuff his face.

Crosshair, who had been leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, finally pushed off the wall and approached the counter. He picked up a cookie, his expression unreadable. He took a slow, deliberate bite, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tasted it. After a long moment, he simply hummed in approval, grabbing another cookie without a word.

"Looks like you're outnumbered, Crosshair," Phee remarked, smirking at his silence. "Even you can't resist these."

Crosshair merely shrugged, but the way he reached for a third cookie didn't go unnoticed by the others.

Finally, Hunter, who had been watching the scene unfold, stepped forward. His sharp eyes flicked from the nearly empty tray to Beka, who was calmly placing more cookies on a cooling rack. He picked up a cookie, examining it for a moment before taking a small bite. The taste of orange and butter melted on his tongue, and he couldn't help but let out a low hum of approval.

"These are... exceptional," Hunter admitted.. He looked at Beka, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Wrecker already grabbing his fifth cookie got the stares of the other brothers.

"Save some for the rest of us!" Echo protested, trying to snatch the last cookie from Wrecker's grasp.

"I'm making more," Beka said with a chuckle, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched the brothers bicker.

Phee smirked, leaning against the counter as she watched the boys devour the treats. "You've outdone yourself, Beka. Where'd you learn to make something this good?"

Beka smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "My dad, Gruno, taught me. Secret family recipe."

At the mention of a parent, the room fell into a brief, reflective silence. Omega, still covered in flour, looked up at the brothers with wide, innocent eyes.

"This is the most fun I've ever had!" Omega declared, her voice filled with excitement. "It's just like when mom was around..."

The air grew thick with a shared sadness, the boys exchanging looks of quiet understanding. Beka, sensing the shift, quickly wiped a streak of flour from Omega's cheek with her apron.

"If you like, I'd be happy to teach you how to bake more often," Beka offered gently looking at Omega with warm eyes.

Omega's face lit up with pure joy, her earlier sadness melting away. "Yes, please! I want to learn everything!"

The moment was interrupted by Tech.

"Hey! You've had enough," Tech scolded, pulling the tray away from Crosshair and Wrecker.

"Yeah, save some for the rest of us," Echo added, though he couldn't hide the grin on his face.

Chapter summary: Hair mishaps and birthdays

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 7740

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 12

Beka sat alone in the library, surrounded by the soft glow of the reading lamps. Wrecker had fallen asleep on one of the couches, and Beka took advantage of the quiet to immerse herself in a book. The door creaked open, and Phee entered, her steps light but purposeful. Beka glanced up, her expression wary. She had grown accustomed to being questioned and judged, and Phee's arrival initially stirred her anxiety.

Phee approached with a warm smile, shaking off the tension. "Hello, Beka. I hope I'm not interrupting. I was just curious about something."

Beka closed her book and looked at Phee with guarded eyes. "What is it?"

Phee settled into a nearby chair, her gaze steady. "I wanted to get to know the woman who has Hunter all in a tizzy. He's been all over the place since you arrived here, and I'm curious about what's got him so worked up."

Beka's eyes softened slightly, though she still seemed cautious. "I'm not sure what you want to know. I'm just a former cop who became a singer. There's not much more to it than that."

Phee leaned forward, intrigued. "I've heard bits and pieces, but I want to understand more about you. Your past, your family—anything you're willing to share. It might ease tensions here and figure out who might be after you."

Beka's gaze turned distant, her thoughts drifting to a past filled with pain and loss. She sighed and set the book aside. "I was a cop. I made a lot of enemies, it's hard to narrow it down to just one particular person. I don't have any family left. My parents died during the war. I was the youngest of three. I had an older sister, Lunella, and brother, Philip, but after they were gone, I was left orphaned as a child."

Phee's expression softened with sympathy. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Beka nodded, her eyes reflecting the weight of her memories. "I was young and had to fend for myself. I was a street thief, eventually, I stole from the wrong person, but instead of turning me in, he gave me a place to call home. His name is Gruno, and eventually, he adopted me. I worked hard, got my GED, graduated from the police academy, and worked to become a detective. Gruno adopted a boy, Jetto, who became my brother. They were my surrogate family."

"But what's so special about you in particular to Hunter, the man who dated around but never anything serious? A hookup or two, but you, on the other hand, he stayed around for you?" Phee asked her curiosity spiked.

"I don't know, maybe because I was real and straightforward about shit. We were engaged, but after finding out who he really was I had to start over. Leave the force, leave him, leave everything, and start over. That's when I became a bartender in another state and eventually recognized to be a singer."

Phee listened attentively, her gaze filled with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot. I can understand why Hunter feels so strongly about you. You've clearly been through your share of struggles."

Beka managed a small smile, appreciating Phee's genuine interest. "I just want to find a sense of normalcy again, if that's possible."

Phee nodded thoughtfully. "Well, sometimes it's just about finding the right balance and the right people who understand."

Beka's eyes met Phee's, and she felt a small sense of relief. "I appreciate that. It's nice to have someone who isn't just here to interrogate me."

Phee smiled warmly. "Well, I sort of am, but I wanted to know you personally. Just know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

As Phee stood to leave, Beka nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Phee. That means a lot."

With that, Phee made her way out of the library, and Beka returned to her book, feeling a bit lighter.

As Phee reached the door, Beka hesitated, then called out, "Phee, wait a second."

Phee paused and turned back, a curious smile on her lips. "Yes?"

Beka took a deep breath, feeling a hint of vulnerability. "I was just wondering... how did you become part of this family? How did you get accepted and integrated into the business?"

Phee chuckled softly, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "Ah, that's quite the story. I wasn't exactly brought in the usual way. I was already involved in the business, working in a different capacity before I met the heads of the family." She continued, her expression thoughtful. "I started out working on the outskirts, dealing with smaller tasks and gradually proving myself. Eventually, I worked my way up and got the chance to meet Hunter and his brothers. Tech was part of that initial meeting, and from there, I became more integrated into their world."

Beka's interest was piqued. "So, you've been in the business for a long time?"

Phee nodded. "Yes, for quite a while. It wasn't an easy journey, but I earned my place by demonstrating my skills and reliability. I think Hunter and the others saw my potential and decided to give me a chance."

Beka nodded, absorbing the information. "It sounds like you had to work hard to gain their trust."

Phee's smile grew warm. "Absolutely. It took time and effort, but I think that's how it should be. Trust is something that has to be earned, not given freely."

Beka appreciated Phee's openness. "Thanks for sharing that. It gives me a better understanding of how things work around here."

Phee's expression softened, and she gave Beka a reassuring smile. "No problem. If you ever have more questions or just need someone to talk to, you know where to find me."

With that, Phee left the library, leaving Beka with a newfound sense of perspective. The quiet of the room felt more welcoming now, and Beka returned to her book, contemplating the stories of both her own life and the lives of those around her.

That night, as Phee and Tech prepared for bed, the room was dimly lit by a soft lamp on the bedside table. Phee sat on the edge of the bed, removing her shoes, while Tech meticulously organized his belongings on a nearby dresser.

Phee glanced over at her husband, curiosity evident in her eyes. "So, Tech, what do you know about Beka from your perspective?"

Tech, busy adjusting his gadgets, paused and looked thoughtful. "Beka's quite the puzzle," he began, his voice contemplative. "From what I've seen, her ability to solve problems quickly must be tied to her detective side. She has a deep knowledge of music and songwriting, which shows in how she's been restoring and playing the instruments. Her resilience is notable too—despite her situation, she's adapted remarkably well. The way she engages with the music room, the way she composes and plays... it's impressive."

Phee nodded, listening intently. "And what about her background? Anything you've learned about her past or her current state of mind?"

Tech shrugged slightly. "Not much beyond what she's shared. She's been open about her past as a former cop turned singer. She talks a lot about her surrogate family. She's had some rough patches, lost her family in the past, and seems to be carrying a lot of emotional weight. Her recent behavior suggests she's trying to cope with her current situation and find a semblance of normalcy through her music."

Phee raised an eyebrow, a note of concern in their voice. "And how do you think she's coping with everything, considering what happened that night?"

Tech considered the question carefully. "It's hard to say for sure. On the surface, she seems to be handling things better than expected, but I imagine there's a lot more going on internally. She's shown a lot of strength, but she's also been visibly upset at times. It's clear she misses her previous life and struggles with the constraints imposed on her."

Phee sighed, sitting back on the bed. "I've spoken with her a bit, and she seems like she's trying to make the best of her situation, but I can tell she's not fully content. I'm starting to understand why she's been so important to Hunter and why the others have had mixed feelings about her."

Tech nodded in agreement. "It's definitely a complex situation. It's going to take time for everyone to fully adjust and accept the new dynamics. But from what I've seen, Beka's trying to find her place and make a positive impact despite the challenges."

Phee gave Tech a thoughtful look. "Good insight. It's good to have a better understanding of her, especially considering how important she is to Hunter."

As they prepared for bed, Tech simply nodded. "Why are you asking these questions?" he asked.

Phee gave a playful smirk and replied, "Because, my love, it might just help everyone involved."

Tech raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Phee's response. "And you think it will?"

Phee's smile widened as they slipped into bed beside him. "I believe understanding Beka better will help us all navigate this situation more smoothly. Plus, it's a way to show her we care."

Tech's gaze softened as he took Phee's hand. "I suppose you're right. We've all been affected by this and showing her, we're invested might make a difference."

They settled into their pillows, the room dimly lit by a soft bedside lamp. The gentle rhythm of their breathing filled the quiet space, each lost in thought. As they drifted toward sleep, the warmth of their closeness provided a comforting contrast to the complexities they faced.

The next morning started peacefully in the mansion. Beka was sitting by the window, enjoying the quiet as she read a book. Tech was nearby, engrossed in his latest invention—a small device designed for cutting through tough materials with pinpoint accuracy. He was absorbed in his work, fine-tuning the settings, his usual muttering filling the air.

Beka was barely aware of what Tech was doing, lost in her book. She had no idea how close he was getting with his device until she suddenly felt a sharp tug at her hair. Her head jerked back as the gadget made a horrifying whirring sound, pulling a large chunk of her hair into its mechanism.

"Tech! What the hell?! OW!" Beka screamed, her heart racing as she instinctively grabbed at her hair that she had been trying to grow back out for months now. Panic surged through her as she realized the device was stuck.

Tech's face went pale as he saw what had happened. "Oh shit!" He stammered, his fingers flying over the controls as he tried to shut the device down. But instead of stopping, the machine seemed to whirr even louder, pulling more hair into its grip.

Beka's panic turned into outright terror. "Get it off me! Tech, get it off me now! It hurts!" she yelled, her voice rising in fear as she felt the hair being yanked painfully.

Wrecker who was dozing off in a nearby chair woke to commotion. Echo came running into the room at the sound of her screams. They both froze for a split second, taking in the chaotic scene of Tech desperately trying to free Beka's hair from the snarling device.

"What the hell did you do, Tech?" Echo demanded, rushing over to help. His hand moved quickly, trying to pry the machine away from Beka's head.

"I didn't mean to! And it just—" Tech's voice was panicked, his usual calm completely gone as he fumbled with the device. "Damn it, it's stuck! I'm trying to turn it off!"

Beka was on the verge of tears, her panic overwhelming her. "It hurts! Get it off me!" she cried, trying to pull away as she held her hair, but the device was tangled too tightly in her hair.

"Hold still, Beka, we're almost there!" Wrecker said, his voice urgent as he carefully tried to untangle the mess, his large hands surprisingly gentle.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Echo managed to yank the device free, but the damage was done. Beka's hair was left a jagged, uneven mess, with chunks missing in places. She looked at the floor at the chunks of hair, horrified, and then back at the mirror.

"My hair... my fucking hair!" she gasped, tears streaming down her face as she took in the disaster. She started stringing her fingers through the chopped-off part of her hair.

Tech looked like he wanted to disappear. "Beka, I—shit, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Just then, Phee walked in, drawn by the commotion. She stopped short, confusion turning to concern as she saw Beka standing there, tears streaming down her face, her hair a ruined mess.

"What the hell happened in here?" Phee asked, her voice sharp as she looked from Tech to Beka. "Why is she crying? What the hell did you boys do?!"

Beka turned to Phee, her voice breaking. "Tech's fucking invention! Look at me!"

Phee's eyes softened with understanding as she quickly moved to Beka's side. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. But don't worry, I can fix this."

Beka shook her head, still crying. "How? It's all gone! I look awful!"

Phee gently guided Beka to a chair, her voice soothing. "Trust me, we can make this work. Let me help you."

Beka hesitated, wiping away her tears, but she nodded, too distraught to argue. "Okay... just please, be careful."

Phee gave her a reassuring smile and set to work. As she carefully trimmed and shaped Beka's hair, she spoke softly, distracting Beka from her earlier panic. Slowly, the jagged mess began to transform into something sleek and stylish bob.

When Phee was done, she handed Beka a mirror. "Take a look. I think you'll be surprised."

Beka looked at her reflection, her breath catching as she saw the chic bob Phee had created. The soft curls framed her face perfectly, giving her a classic, elegant look. It was a dramatic change, but it was undeniably beautiful. "It's... nice," Beka said quietly, trying to muster a smile, but her voice was tinged with sadness as she ran her fingers through the much shorter strands.

Phee, noticing Beka's mixed emotions, gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you miss your long hair, Beka. It's okay to feel that way. But you still look beautiful—just different."

Beka nodded, her eyes still a bit misty. "Thank you, Phee. I appreciate it."

Phee smiled softly. "Anytime. And remember, it's just hair—it'll grow back. In the meantime, you can rock this look like a movie star."

Beka managed a small smile, feeling a bit better. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Phee squeezed her shoulder gently. "You're welcome. Now, let's go show those boys what a real hairstyle looks like, shall we?"

Beka sat at her vanity, still getting used to the sleek bob that Phee had expertly cut for her. Her hair was undeniably chic, but Beka couldn't shake the feeling of loss for her long hair. She was running her fingers through the short strands when she heard a soft knock at the door.

Omega peeked in, her eyes bright with excitement. "Beka! Can I come in?"

Beka looked at Wrecker who nodded approval. Managing a small smile Beka motioned for to come in. "Sure, Omega. How can I help you?"

Omega entered the room right as Wrecker shut the door, clutching a small wooden box. She looked eager, her enthusiasm evident. "It's actually what I can do for you, I heard about what happened earlier, and I was thinking... maybe I could help make your new hairstyle even better for dinner tonight."

Beka hesitated, glancing at the mirror. "I don't know, Omega. I'm still getting used to this," she said, her tone uncertain. "It feels so different..."

Omega's expression softened, but she wasn't discouraged. "I know, Beka. But I really think I can help. I've been collecting these hairpieces, and I think they'd look great with your new haircut. Please, let me try?"

Beka looked at Omega, who was practically bouncing on her toes with anticipation. She could see how much the young girl wanted to help, and after a moment, she sighed, giving in. "Alright, Omega. If you think it'll help, then let's do it."

Omega's face lit up, and she immediately called in a few of the servants who had been waiting outside the door, ready to assist. They bustled in, smiling warmly at Beka as they set up around her.

Beka sat back in the chair, still a little hesitant, but she couldn't help feeling touched by how eager Omega and the servants were to help her feel more like herself. Omega opened the wooden box, revealing an array of delicate hairpieces—combs adorned with pearls, jeweled clips, and silk ribbons.

"I've been collecting these for a while," Omega explained, her hands moving with surprising skill as she selected a few pieces. "I know it's not the same as having your long hair, but I think we can make you look really beautiful for dinner."

Beka bit her lip, still unsure, but she nodded. "Okay, Omega. I trust you."

The servants joined in, one of them gently brushing through Beka's hair while another handed Omega the hairpieces she requested. Together, they worked with quiet efficiency, weaving the silk ribbons through Beka's hair and pinning them in place with the jeweled clips. The combs were added last, carefully positioned to catch the light and add a touch of elegance to the look.

Beka watched in the mirror as they worked, her earlier hesitation slowly melting away. The bob, which had felt so unfamiliar before, was gradually being transformed into something that felt more like her. The delicate hairpieces gave it a refined, sophisticated touch that made her feel special, even in her new, shorter style.

"There," Omega said finally, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "What do you think?"

Beka looked at her reflection, her breath catching slightly. The finished style was beautiful, the hairpieces adding just the right amount of sparkle and charm. It wasn't the long hair she had missed, but it was something new—something she could feel confident in. "It's... really pretty," Beka said softly, her voice tinged with surprise. She turned to Omega, her smile growing. "Thank you."

Omega beamed, clearly pleased. "I'm so glad you like it! And the servants did a great job too."

Beka nodded, her heartwarming at the kindness of those around her. "Thank you all."

One of the servants smiled warmly. "It was our pleasure, Miss Hardt. You look lovely."

Beka stood, smoothing down her dress as she took one last look in the mirror. "Alright," Beka said, taking a deep breath. "I think I'm ready for dinner now."

Omega grinned, giving her a quick hug. "You're going to look amazing, Beka. Let's go show everyone how beautiful you are."

Beka hesitated for a moment, her heart fluttering nervously at the thought of walking downstairs with her new look. But Omega's confident smile and warm grip gave her the encouragement she needed. She nodded, squeezing Omega's hand in return. "Alright, let's go."

Omega led her out of the room, her small hand firmly guiding Beka down the grand staircase. Wrecker followed close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Beka spotted Hunter standing in the entryway, talking with Echo. The moment he saw her, his conversation halted mid-sentence. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in Beka's new hairstyle, the elegant curls framing her face, and the sparkling hairpieces that Omega had carefully placed.

"Darling... your hair," Hunter said, his voice a mix of surprise and concern as he stepped closer. "What happened?"

Beka felt a wave of anxiety rises in her chest. She knew Hunter wouldn't be thrilled to hear about the accident, especially since Tech was involved. But she forced herself to stay calm, taking a deep breath before she spoke. "There was an accident," Beka explained, glancing up at Hunter. "Tech was working on one of his inventions, and it got caught in my hair. It... well, it wasn't fucking pretty."

Hunter's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he looked over at Wrecker. "Tech did this? Where is he?" Hunter caught sight of Tech, lingering nervously in the hallway, his eyes darting around as if he were searching for an escape route.

The moment Tech spotted Hunter glaring at him, his face paled. He seemed to realize that a confrontation was inevitable, and before anyone could stop him, he turned to make a hasty retreat.

But before Tech could take more than a few steps, Phee appeared from around the corner. With lightning speed, she reached out and grabbed him by the collar, effectively halting his attempted escape. "Not so fast, genius," Phee said, her voice laced with playful sternness as she pulled him back.

Tech froze, his wide eyes shifting between Phee's firm grip and the rest of the group approaching him. "Phee, I was just... um, I thought it might be best if I—"

"If you what? Ran off before Hunter could talk to you?" Phee finished for him, raising an eyebrow. "Nice try, but you're not getting out of this one."

Hunter's stern gaze settled on Tech, and for a moment, it seemed like he might still be angry. "Tech..." Hunter began his voice low and measured.

Beka quickly stepped forward, placing a hand on Hunter's arm to stop him. "Hunter, wait. I'm not mad at him—well, not anymore. It was an accident, and he feels terrible about it. There's no need to be angry."

Hunter's gaze softened slightly as he looked down at her, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Are you sure, darling? If you're upset about it—"

"I'm not," Beka interrupted gently. "It was just an accident, and Phee and Omega helped make it better. I'm starting to like it."

Hunter sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head. "Alright, if you say so. But if you change your mind..."

"I won't," Beka assured him, smiling up at him. "Really Hunter, it's fine."

Hunter finally relented, his stern expression giving way to a small, relieved smile. "Okay. If you're happy, then I won't do anything to Tech. You do look beautiful though."

Beka blushed slightly, the compliment catching her off guard.

Tech blinked, clearly surprised by her words. "You're... not?"

Beka shook her head, offering him a small smile.

Phee released her grip on Tech's collar, patting him on the back with a smirk. "See? No need to go into hiding."

Tech straightened his glasses, still looking a bit sheepish. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and nodded quickly. "Thank you, Beka."

    Wrecker in the background stifled his laughter, which Tech gave a death stare.

Omega, still holding Beka's hand, grinned up at her. "See? I told you you'd look amazing."

"She's right." Echo whose been quiet this whole time gave a warm smile.

Beka's smile grew, and she nodded. "Thanks, but can we just move on, okay?"

Phee gave her husband one last playful nudge. "I think we should all head to dinner before anyone else decides to try and make a break for it."

With a collective sigh of relief, the group began to move toward the dining room, Tech still looking a bit flustered but relieved that the situation hadn't escalated. As they walked, Beka felt Omega squeeze her hand.

"Hunter don't forget to remind the servants they need to pick up the cake for tomorrow," Echo said as he sat down, placing a napkin on his lap.

Hunter looked at Echo with a puzzled expression. "For what?"

"Your birthday party tomorrow—the whole family will be here in the grand hall." Echo stared back, equally confused by Hunter's lack of awareness.

Hunter blinked, clearly having forgotten. "Oh, right. Just have the servants cancel it."

Phee shot up from her seat, exasperated. "Oh no! You do this every year, Hunter. Do you know how hard it is to get the whole family together for celebrations? We are having your birthday tomorrow, and you will enjoy it."

Hunter sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable as he continued cutting his food into bite-sized pieces.

"Damnit," Tech muttered under his breath, drawing everyone's attention. He sighed, realizing his mistake. "I forgot to book a singer for tomorrow."

Echo frowned. "Tech, you know how hard it is to find a singer on short notice."

"But we already have a singer," Omega piped up, a spark of excitement in her voice. Everyone turned to look at her with curiosity. "We have Miss Ribbon Singer right here!" Omega gestured enthusiastically toward Beka.

Beka, mid-bite, froze. Her eyes widened in confusion and terror. "What...?" She looked around, trying to process what Omega had just suggested.

"Yeah, you can perform tomorrow! We already have a band; we just need the singer," Omega beamed, clearly pleased with her idea.

Tech's mind immediately started working. "Not a bad idea. I can have the servants prepare a nice dress, maybe even get a replica of her mask..."

"Wait a minute, I didn't agree to this," Beka tried to interject, feeling the pressure mounting.

"Please, Beka," Omega pleaded, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"I... I don't know, Omega..." Beka hesitated, placing her fork down as she felt the weight of everyone's expectations.

"Please," Omega begged again, her tone even more earnest.

Beka turned to Hunter, hoping he might step in. "Are you going to interject or something?"

Hunter leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, it'll be a reason for me to actually want to celebrate my birthday."

Beka shot him a sour frown, feeling cornered.

"Okay, it's settled," Tech said, already walking off to start making arrangements.

Beka could only sigh, realizing she had little choice in the matter now.

Early the next morning, the whole family rushed around preparing for tonight's birthday celebration. Beka wandered through the halls, catching glimpses of the hustle and bustle. Phee was busy arguing with the servants about the placement of decorations, while Echo meticulously went over food preparations. Tech directed people in every direction, Crosshair and Hunter discussed which guests would be attending, and Omega, as usual, was in her own little world, completely oblivious to the commotion.

Wrecker led Beka to the grand hall, and her eyes widened at the sight. The grand hall of the mansion was abuzz with quiet activity. The chandelier's crystals caught the light like diamonds, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors. Servants were busy arranging flowers, adjusting the grand tablecloth, and setting out the finest China in preparation for the evening's celebration. Beka stood at the entrance, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Her dress—a simple but elegant frock in deep green—swirled around her legs as she walked further into the room.

As she moved through the hall, Beka's gaze fell upon the small stage at the far end, where a band was setting up. A thought sparked in her mind, and she found herself drifting toward them, her curiosity piqued.

"Excuse me," Beka said, her voice soft but clear. The musicians turned, their expressions curious. "Would you mind playing something lively? Something with a bit of swing?"

One of the band members, a man with a trumpet, squinted at her for a moment before recognition dawned. "Wait a minute... you're Miss Ribbon Singer, aren't you? We performed with you in Alderaan."

Beka blinked in surprise, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I suppose I am, and I do remember you."

The musicians exchanged excited glances, and the man with the trumpet grinned. "We'd be honored to play for you, Miss Ribbon. What's your pleasure?"

Beka thought for a moment, then gave a nod. "How about 'They're Staring at Me?' Let's bring a bit of life to this old hall."

The band members didn't need any more encouragement. They launched into the familiar tune, the brassy notes bouncing off the walls, filling the grand space with energy. Beka felt the music wash over her, pulling her in like an old friend. Without a second thought, she began to sing, her voice slipping effortlessly into the rhythm, smooth and jazzy.

As she sang, Beka moved through the hall, her voice and the music entwined with the work of the servants. She twirled around one of them, then grabbed a broom from a nearby stand. With a playful wink, Beka used it as a makeshift partner, dancing and twirling it around as if it were a gentleman in a fine suit. The broom's bristles skated across the floor as she dipped and swayed, the sheer joy of the moment evident in every move she made.

Wrecker watched from the side, his face split into a wide grin as he leaned against the wall. Omega, who had just entered with Tech, Echo, and Phee, paused at the sight before her, eyes wide with awe. They all shared a look, smiling warmly as they took in the scene.

The music swelled, and Beka's voice soared with it, filling every corner of the grand hall. She spun around once more, laughing, and ended her song with a flourish, the broom still in hand. For a moment, the room was silent, and Beka, breathless and flushed, wondered if she had overstepped. But then, applause erupted from all around her. She jumped slightly, startled by the sound. She hadn't realized anyone was watching. Omega clapped the loudest, a look of pure admiration on her face.

"That was amazing, Beka!" Omega said, running up to her. "It would be the perfect gift—you performing!"

Beka hesitated, her hand gripping the broom's handle a little tighter. "Uh, thanks, but I don't want to take the spotlight."

"Oh, come on!" Wrecker chimed in, stepping forward. "You saw how everyone loved it. Hunter will too. He's always talking about how he likes your singing, even if he doesn't say much."

Echo nodded in agreement, his expression encouraging. "It doesn't have to be a big production—just you, doing what you do best."

Phee added, "And what better way to celebrate than with a bit of music."

Beka bit her lip, thinking it over. The idea of performing in front of everyone, especially Hunter, made her nervous, "It wouldn't be any different from my other past performances." Finally, she nodded, though a bit hesitantly.

Omega's face lit up, and she hugged Beka tightly. "He's going to love it, I know it!"

The evening had fallen over the mansion like a velvet curtain, the grand hall now fully transformed for the celebration. The chandeliers sparkled even brighter against the deepening twilight, casting a golden hue over the polished marble and the elegant decorations. Hunter's family and closest friends had gathered, mingling and talking in low tones, the atmosphere warm and filled with anticipation.

But in a quiet room just off the hall, Beka was anything but calm. She stood in front of a full-length mirror, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the mask over her eyes. The mask was delicate, a lace creation that framed her face and hid her identity just enough to let her become someone else—Miss Ribbon Singer. Her gown, a deep, midnight blue, flowed around her like water, cinching at the waist and flaring out in soft waves of fabric. The gown was adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light, making her look like she was draped in starlight. She adjusted her now very short hair and wrapped her faux fur around loosely off the shoulders.

Beka took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric nervously. She'd done this before—sung in front of crowds, worn the mask—but this felt different. She was performing the whole Marauder Family.

"You got it, girl," Beka said as she prep-talked to herself.

"Beka, it's time," Omega's voice came from the doorway, soft and encouraging.

Beka turned to see the young girl standing there, her eyes wide with excitement and her smile filled with reassurance. "You look beautiful," Omega said, coming forward to take Beka's hand. "Hunter's going to love it."

"Do you think so?" Beka asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"I know so," Omega nodded firmly. "And we'll all be there, right by your side."

Beka smiled at herself, the nervousness in her chest easing slightly. With a final nod to the mirror, she allowed Omega to lead her toward the grand hall.

As they entered, the hum of conversation began to fade. One by one, people turned to see the figure gliding into the room. Beka moved toward the small stage that had been set up for her. The band was already in place, waiting for her cue.

Hunter stood near the center of the room, his back to her as he spoke quietly with Crosshair, Tech, and Echo. The sound of the piano playing the opening notes of her song, soft and inviting, made him pause. He turned slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the scene, and then, his gaze fell on Beka.

For a heartbeat, the room was suspended in silence, all eyes on her. Drawing in a deep breath, she began to sing. Her voice, smooth and rich, filled the hall with a haunting melody—a song that seemed to wrap itself around every listener, drawing them closer. Her voice carried through the room, gentle but with a strength that demanded attention.

Hunter's eyes never left her. He was captivated, his usual guarded expression giving way to something more open, more vulnerable. The song was familiar, an old jazz standard that spoke of longing and love, and Beka delivered it with a sincerity that struck a chord deep within him. The others watched in silence, their own conversations forgotten as Beka's performance held them in thrall.

Wrecker's grin was wide, his pride for her evident. Omega, standing beside him, looked up at Hunter, waiting to see his reaction. Even Phee and Echo exchanged a glance, knowing how much this moment would mean to him. Crosshair frowned, receiving a small punch from his twin, while Tech only smirked.

As Beka reached the crescendo of the song, her voice soaring, she closed her eyes, letting the music take her. When the final note lingered in the air, she opened her eyes and found herself staring directly at the crowd. The silence that followed was heavy, almost breathless, and then as if pulled by a thread, the guests began to clap. The sound grew, and a wave of applause filled the hall.

The music started up again, and Beka, now filled with confidence, let the rhythm of the song carry her. Her voice, strong and clear, resonated through the hall as she embraced the energy of the moment. With each note, she moved gracefully around the stage, her body swaying in time with the melody. A radiant smile spread across her face, lighting up the room and drawing the audience in even closer. The tempo picked up, Beka added playful flourishes to her performance. She executed small dance steps, her movements fluid and effortless. Her smile widened with each playful line she sang, and the audience responded with enthusiastic laughter and appreciative whistles, their earlier formality melting away.

As the song reached its joyous conclusion, Beka held the final note, her voice ringing out with a triumphant flourish. The applause was immediate and thunderous, filling the hall with a wave of appreciation and admiration. When Beka stepped off the stage, the energy of the crowd surged toward her. Eager faces surrounded her, people vying for her attention, their words of praise and admiration overlapping in a joyous cacophony.

"You never said you had the Miss Ribbon Singer performing for your birthday," one of the family members remarked, eyes wide with surprise.

"You've heard of her, Rex?" Tech asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Heard of her? I've watched her perform in person. Absolutely incredible," Rex responded with a nod of admiration.

"I thought she went missing during that fire, though," another voice chimed in.

"It's complicated, Bly," Hunter pointed out, his gaze lingering on Beka as she graciously interacted with each guest.

Bly looked between Hunter and Beka, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Ah, complicated," he smirked, nudging Hunter playfully.

Hunter chuckled and playfully punched his cousin's arm. The whole family knew how to keep secrets, and they knew this one had to be a big one.

"Well, son, I'd say this was a good party," a voice cut through the commotion. Hunter turned to see a man with his arm wrapped around a young woman, two small children trailing behind them.

"Cut, Suu, you made it!" Wrecker beamed, his face lighting up.

"Uncle Wrecker!" the two children shouted in chorus.

"Shaeeah! Jek!" Wrecker grinned, scooping up the kids as if they weighed nothing. He set them down gently as they giggled with delight.

"Can we meet her?" Suu asked, pointing towards Beka.

"Be my guest," Hunter smiled, gesturing toward the stage.

The family began making their way to Beka, while Crosshair grumbled something under his breath.

"Mad that people actually like Beka?" Echo teased, elbowing his brother.

"They only like her because she's some famous performer," Crosshair muttered.

"Actually, Crosshair," a voice cut in, "she's also very charitable. After every performance, she donates half the profits to hospitals, research, and orphanages."

"Well, if it isn't Senator Riyo Chuchi," Hunter said, turning to greet her.

Riyo returned the smile, her arm linked with another man. "Fox, can you get me a drink?" The man nodded and walked off to fetch it. "Miss Ribbon Singer also donated a large portion to my trust fund project for soldiers from the war," she added.

As Beka continued to chat with the guests, they bombarded her with questions, some even flirting with her.

"You are just gorgeous, Miss Ribbon Singer," one man said, his admiration evident.

"Back off, Gregor, let me talk to the lady," another chimed in.

"Howzer, I was talking to her first," Gregor smirked, not backing down.

"You two are worse than Hardcase," yet another man joined in, shaking his head with a grin.

"Shut it, Kix," Howzer said, playfully punching his friend.

"Easy, lads," Beka teased, her eyes twinkling. "I'll be here for the whole party."

"Miss Ribbon Singer?" Cut called out as he and his family approached.

Beka looked up, her smile warm and welcoming. "Hello there," Beka greeted, walking toward the family.

"I'm Cut Lawquane, this is my wife, Suu, and our children, Shaeeah and Jek. We're huge fans of your music," Cut introduced, extending his hand.

Beka shook his hand with a smile, then shook Suu's eager hand. She looked down at the small children, her expression softening.

"You're so pretty," Shaeeah said with a shy smile. "I want to be just like you."

Beka knelt down to the young girl's level. "You do?" she asked gently. "Hmmm, well, you have to look the part." With a smile, Beka removed her fur wrap and draped it around Shaeeah's shoulders. "There you go, little singer."

"Thank you!" Shaeeah beamed, holding the fur tightly around her.

"Shaeeah! Jek!" Omega called from the top of the stairs, waving enthusiastically. The two children squealed with delight and ran toward her, laughing as they went.

"We'll pay for a new one," Cut offered, nodding toward the fur wrap.

"No need," Beka replied with a warm smile. "Please, just enjoy the party."

Hunter watched the entire exchange, his heart swelling with affection as he saw Beka's kindness.

"Hey, birthday boy, you still with us?" A man waved a hand in front of Hunter's face, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, Waxer, just..." Hunter trailed off, his gaze drifting back to Beka.

"Distracted? I'd be too if I had Miss Ribbon Singer here," another voice interrupted with a chuckle.

"Keep it in your pants, Boil," Riyo laughed, shaking her head.

"Excuse me," Hunter said, excusing himself as he made his way toward Beka. He stepped forward, moving through the crowd with a grace that was so uniquely his. When he reached the edge of the stage, Beka felt her breath hitch once more, this time from something much more powerful than nerves.

"That was beautiful," Hunter said quietly, his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the applause.

Beka smiled beneath her mask, feeling warmth flood her chest. "Happy birthday, Hunter," she replied, her voice soft but steady.

"Time to blow out the candles!" Wrecker yelled. All turned as a giant three-tier cake was brought in by the servants.

Hunter took Beka's hand and guided her to the middle of the room. Hunter stood in front of the cake as the candles were lit.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," Beka began in a very sweet singing voice. The whole crowd joined in with her singing.

Hunter only smiled all he could hear though was Beka's singing. As the song ended, Hunter took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Loud cheering and applause erupted throughout the grand hall.

The applause gradually died down. Beka walked back on stage and the band began to play a new tune. Something more upbeat and sultrier, a different kind of energy filled the room. The bassline was smooth, the rhythm infectious, and Beka found herself swaying to the music, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She had an idea—a daring one, but tonight felt like the night to take a few risks.

She caught Hunter's eye under her mask, and with a mischievous glint, she leaned into the microphone and began to sing. Her voice was light and teasing, the lyrics playful as she sang. But the way she sang, the way her voice dipped and swayed with the melody, made it clear that this woman was anything but subtle.

As she moved across the stage, her hips swayed in time with the music, her gown swirling around her legs. She let her gaze wander over the crowd, but it always returned to Hunter, who was now standing with his brothers and friends, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her with a bemused expression.

When Beka reached the chorus, she added a little extra flair, her voice curling around the words with a seductive tone.

Hunter's brothers, standing nearby, started to catch on. Echo raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. Tech adjusted his glasses, trying to hide his amusement, while Wrecker openly grinned. It was Phee who made the first move, playfully nudging Hunter with her elbow, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Looks like someone's got you pegged, big guy," Phee teased, her voice just loud enough to carry over the music.

Hunter shot her a warning glance, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. Before he could respond, Wrecker, never one to miss an opportunity, gave him a playful punch in the arm. Echo let out a small chuckle. Crosshair annoyed twirled the toothpick in his mouth, and he went to grab another drink.

"May I have this dance?" Tech asked extending his hand to his wife.

Phee chuckled, "Of course brown eyes."

Tech guided her to the dance floor and the two started dancing, Tech's hand resting tightly around her waist.

Beka couldn't help but laugh softly into the microphone at the sight of Hunter, who was now rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flustered. But there was a smirk on his lips, a sign that he wasn't entirely opposed to the attention. In fact, the way his eyes never left hers told her he was enjoying this little game more than he was letting on.

With a final, teasing glance, Beka twirled on stage, the movement making her gown shimmer like the night sky. She sang the final lines, her voice dripping with playful seduction, her eyes locked on Hunter's. The crowd erupted in applause once again, louder this time, filled with laughter and cheers. But all Beka cared about was the look on Hunter's face, the way he was still watching her like she was the only person in the room.

Beka took a small bow, her eyes never leaving Hunter's, the smile behind her mask full of promise and mischief. She had taken a risk, and from the way his smirk turned into a full smile, she knew it had paid off.

The evening was winding down, the music softening to a gentle hum as guests began to drift into smaller conversations. The grand hall was still alive with warmth, but the vibrant energy from earlier had mellowed, leaving behind a more intimate atmosphere.

Hunter found himself slipping away from the crowd, his eyes tracking Beka as she moved through the room, still the center of attention but now more subdued. She was laughing with Phee and Omega, her mask still in place. The two girls saw Hunter and they excused themselves.

"They're playing the last song." Hunter pointed out. He held his hand to Beka.

Beka looked up a bit surprised. She took it gingerly in her, Hunter led her back to the middle of the grand hall. As the slow music began to play gently, Hunter wrapped one hand around Beka's waist and guided his other hand in hers. The two began dancing to the melodies. The room all gazed at the two, but to Hunter and Beka felt like it was the two of them.

"Hope you enjoyed yourself," Beka said in a low whisper in his ear.

"Darling, tonight was incredible." Hunter gently brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, "But as much as I loved the show, there's something I'm looking forward to even more." He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. "Tonight, the only thing I want to see you wearing is that mask... and nothing else."

Beka's cheeks flushed crimson beneath her mask. She felt a surge of heat rising within her as she looked at Hunter who only gave a devilish grin.

Chapter summary: the Marauders learn a bit more about Beka

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 6341

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 13

Several weeks have passed by now, Beka sat in the library, her usual spot by the window providing a view of the lush garden outside. She had been immersed in writing her song, trying to find solace in her music, when the sound of the television caught her attention.

The TV was tuned to a news channel, and Beka glanced up just in time to see a familiar face on the screen. Her former partner, Seneca, was speaking earnestly into the camera.

"This is Detective Seneca Mori, reaching out to everyone who might know something about the disappearance of Rebekath Hardt. She was not just a friend but a mentor to many of us. She dedicated her life to helping others, and now, it's our turn to help her. We urge anyone with information to come forward. Please, don't give up on finding her."

Beka's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she saw Seneca. She quietly mouthed Seneca's name, her eyes fixed on the TV. The words of her former partner were a mix of comfort and pain, a reminder of the life she once led and the people she had left behind. The sense of being missed and the acknowledgment of her past efforts brought a wave of emotions over her.

Wrecker, who had been quietly observing from the doorway, noticed Beka's reaction. He stepped into the room, his expression softening as he saw how moved she was. "Everything okay?" he asked gently.

Beka nodded, though her eyes were still fixed on the screen. "It's just... yeah, I'm okay."

Wrecker came over and sat beside her. "She sounds like she really cares about you. It must be tough seeing this."

Beka took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Yeah, it is. It's like a part of my old life is reaching out, reminding me of what I left behind."

The news segment ended, but the impact of Seneca's message lingered with Beka. She sat there for a moment longer, reflecting on the good and bad times with her former partner and the weight of her current reality.

Wrecker found Hunter in his office, his expression serious. Hunter looked up from his desk, sensing the urgency in Wrecker's demeanor.

"What's up?" Hunter asked, setting aside the papers he'd been reviewing.

Wrecker glanced around, ensuring they were alone. "I was in the library with Beka. She saw a news segment about that Detective Mori. She might get too close to finding Beka."

Hunter's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Seneca? She's still looking for Beka?"

"Yeah. She was on TV talking about how she won't give up on finding her. It's been several months though, you think they called off the search."

Hunter sighed deeply. "We need to double-check that we covered our tracks well enough. We need to ensure she doesn't get any closer to Beka. I would hate to hurt someone Beka cares about."

Wrecker nodded. "That's what I was thinking. I need Echo and Tech to keep an eye on her. They should trail Seneca in secret to gather any information she's looking into and make sure no leads get through."

Hunter's eyes narrowed, a hint of grim determination in his gaze. "Alright. I'll give them the order. But be careful with this. We don't want to create more problems than we can solve."

Wrecker nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Got it. I'll make sure they know the stakes."

Later, Echo and Tech gathered in the tech lab, their attention focused on Hunter's latest instructions. Echo looked serious, his expression one of resolve. Tech, as always, was methodical, preparing for their covert operation.

Hunter entered the room and addressed them directly. "Echo, Tech. I need you boys to follow Detective Seneca Mori." Hunter tossed a picture of the detective on his desk. "Keep track of her activities, and make sure she doesn't uncover any information about Beka. Destroy any leads she might have. This is crucial to everyone."

Tech nodded, already pulling up various surveillance tools. "Understood. We'll be discreet. We won't leave any trace."

Echo added, "Consider it done."

Hunter gave a curt nod. "Good. I trust you both to handle this carefully. The last thing we need is for Beka's past to jeopardize her present safety."

As Echo and Tech prepared for their mission, the gravity of the task ahead weighed heavily on them. They exchanged a solemn glance, fully aware of the importance of their assignment and the need for absolute discretion.

"Remember, Echo," Tech said quietly as they made their way through the shadows, "we can't afford to slip up. If anyone finds out about Beka, it could bring everything crashing down."

Echo nodded, adjusting his goggles as he scanned the path ahead. "We'll be in and out before anyone even knows we were there."

They moved swiftly under the cover of darkness, their presence nearly invisible as they approached the police station. The building loomed ahead, its lights dim in the late hours.

Their first stop was inside where they looked for what could be a power control panel, which they found in the supply closet. "Give me a minute," Tech whispered, his voice barely audible in the still night. "I'll disable the silent alarms. We need to make sure there's no trace of us."

Echo stood watch at the door, his keen eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. "Make it quick. We don't have much time."

Tech's expert knowledge of security systems made short work of the station's defenses. With a simple cut of a wire, the alarms were disarmed. "Done. Let's move." Inside the dimly lit station, the air was thick with tension. Tech led the way to the evidence room, his steps silent and purposeful. As they reached the door, Tech got to work on the lock, his hands moving with practiced precision. "Watch my back," Tech muttered as he focused on the task at hand.

Echo positioned himself by the door, his senses on high alert. "Got it. Just get us in."

The door clicked open, and they slipped inside. The room was filled with shelves of files, evidence bags, and computer terminals. Tech immediately set to work, accessing the system with ease. "I'll handle these first set of files first. You start with any physical evidence."

Echo nodded and moved to the shelves, his hands quickly sifting through the evidence related to Beka. "We need to make sure nothing is left behind. Every scrap of information has to disappear."

Tech's fingers flew over files tearing them into shreds. "I'm on it. This won't take long." He cracked a window and then took a metal trashcan to set any other papers on fire careful not to raise alarms.

As Tech worked, Echo began systematically destroying the physical evidence. Documents were shredded with brutal efficiency, while sensitive items were incinerated in a small portable burner Tech had created.

"Anything left over?" Echo asked, his voice low as he surveyed the room.

"Just a few more files," Tech replied, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "Almost done."

As Tech continued working on the last of the files, Echo moved deeper into the evidence room, his sharp eyes scanning the walls. He paused, something catching his attention in the dim light—a section of the wall adorned with framed newspaper clippings and a portrait.

"Tech," Echo called quietly, motioning for him to come over.

Tech finished typing on the old terminal and walked over, adjusting his glasses as he looked at what Echo had found. The wall was a small shrine to Beka's past achievements. The newspaper clippings, neatly framed and hung with care, detailed her successes as a detective. Headlines praised her tenacity, her sharp mind, and her unyielding pursuit of justice.

"Look at this," Echo murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of admiration and sadness. "They've got a whole wall dedicated to her work."

The centerpiece of the display was a large, framed portrait of Beka, dressed in her detective uniform, her expression one of quiet confidence and determination. The photograph captured her essence perfectly—an image of strength, integrity, and dedication.

Tech stared at the wall, momentarily forgetting the urgency of their mission. "They really respected her," he said softly. "These are tributes."

Echo nodded, his eyes lingering on the headlines. "Look at these headlines, busted longstanding prostitution ring. Serial killers caught one another after another. Saved several who were kidnapped children monsters."

More clippings highlighted her role in solving high-profile cases, taking down dangerous criminals, and bringing justice to those who had lost hope. Each one was a testament to the difference she had made in her community, the lives she had touched, and the criminals she had brought to justice.

Tech's expression hardened as he looked back at the files they were destroying. "We can't let anyone use her past against her. But this... this wall should be preserved."

Echo nodded in agreement. "We'll take some of these with us, maybe give Crosshair a reason to start trusting her."

Tech carefully removed the framed portrait and clippings from the wall, one by one. He handed them to Echo, who wrapped them in cloth to protect them. They worked in silence.

As they finished, Echo glanced back at the now-bare wall. "Let's make sure she gets these back one day."

Tech nodded. "Agreed."

With that, they continued their mission, the weight of their task heavier than before. The operation was methodical, there was no room for error. Every piece of evidence was either destroyed or rendered useless, ensuring that Beka's name would never be linked to anything in the station.

"We clear?" Echo asked getting a bit impatient.

Finally, Tech burned all the files he put out the small fire with some water. "We're clear. Let's get out of here."

Echo gave a curt nod, and they moved swiftly to the exit. As they slipped out of the station, Tech glanced back to ensure they left no trace of their presence. Satisfied, he turned to Echo.

"Mission accomplished," Tech said quietly, a hint of relief in his voice. "No one will ever know we were here."

Echo clapped Tech on the shoulder as they made their way to the car. "Good work. Let's start trailing this Mori girl. The sooner we're out of here, the better

Echo and Tech began their surveillance of Seneca Mori. They followed her discreetly, making use of Tech's advanced tracking equipment and Echo's sharp observational skills. They shadowed Seneca as she went about her day, carefully noting her interactions and the people she met. Their surveillance eventually led them to a quiet suburban neighborhood, where they observed Seneca pulling up to a charming, two-story home with a neatly manicured lawn and a small garden by the front porch. The house was painted a soft, pale blue, with white trim that gave it a welcoming, almost idyllic appearance.

As Seneca stepped out of her car, her features became clearer. Her honey-auburn hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Waiting for her on the porch was her wife, Biala Mori. Biala was tall and graceful, with rich, brown skin that seemed to glow in the evening light. Her hair was styled in soft curls of bleached blond that framed her face, accentuating her warm, inviting smile.

She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green dress, its fabric flowing lightly in the evening breeze. Seneca reached the steps, and Biala leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that lingered just long enough to convey the depth of their connection. Their hands found each other's naturally, fingers intertwining as if they'd never been apart.

"I missed you," Biala whispered, her voice soft and warm her emerald eyes gazing into Seneca's hazel brown ones.

Seneca smiled, her thumb gently brushing over Biala's lips. "I missed you too," she replied, her tone laced with the comfort of coming home.

"Mom! Mom!" a young voice called out, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement. "Did you bring me anything?"

Another young boy, just a year younger and looking exactly like Biala with his rich brown skin and gentle green eyes, followed more slowly, but with no less enthusiasm. "We've been waiting for you, Mom," the other boy added, his tone quieter but filled with the same joy.

Their two sons, Lon and Isaac, appeared at the doorway, each one reflecting a blend of their mothers' features. Isaac, the elder of the two, had his mother Seneca's sharp features and intense brown eyes, while Lon, younger and a bit shorter, shared Biala's darker complexion and warm, gentle smile. As the boys ran up to greet their mother, Seneca's stern demeanor melted into one of warmth and affection.

Seneca chuckled, letting go of Biala's waist just long enough to ruffle the older one's hair and scoop youngest into a hug. "Of course, I brought something," she said, smiling down at them both. "But first, let me just enjoy seeing my boys."

Biala watched the exchange with a soft smile, her heart swelling at the sight of their family together. "Alright, you two," she said, guiding them back toward the house. "Let's go inside and let your mom settle in. We can catch up over dinner."

Seneca looked back at Biala as they headed inside, their eyes meeting once more. The silent exchange between them was filled with love and gratitude—a mutual understanding of the life they'd built together, the family they cherished. She exchanged a few more words with Biala, their conversation low and intimate, the kind that only long-married couples share before she followed her family inside. The door closed behind them, the scene one of domestic tranquility—a stark contrast to the tension and danger that often surrounded Seneca in her other life. The home, filled with love and laughter, was a sanctuary, a place where she could shed her armor and simply be a wife and mother.

Echo and Tech kept their distance, tucked away in the shadows of their car, the dim light of a streetlamp barely reaching their figures.

"Looks like the usual routine," Echo whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of June bugs buzzing, dogs barking, and the typical wildlife getting into the metal trashcans. He peered through his camera, capturing the scene of Seneca's family as they moved through their evening. "Kids are home from school, dinner's on the table. Picture-perfect, ain't it?"

Tech adjusted his glasses, pushing them up on his eyes as he scanned the notes in his worn leather notebook. "Picture-perfect until you realize what's lurking beneath the surface," he muttered. "Seneca's got more secrets than this city's got dark corners. We need to keep our distance, but close enough to catch whatever slips through the cracks."

"Speaking of which," Echo murmured, lowering his camera, "you think she's onto us? Or Beka?"

Tech's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "If she was, we'd know. She'd be a fool to tip her hand now. No, Seneca's careful—too careful. But that's where she'll slip up. Sooner or later, the mask always falls."

They continued their silent surveillance until the lights in Seneca's house dimmed. Once their observations were complete, Echo and Tech made their way back to their home. Inside, Tech and Echo began compiling their findings, the sound of typewriter keys echoing through the room.

Echo nodded, as he leaned back in his chair. "We keep this quiet. No one else needs to know—especially not Beka. If this blows up, it could take her down too."

Tech looked up from his notes, his expression grim. "Then we make sure it doesn't. We stay in the shadows, keep our ears to the ground, and make damn sure we're ready when the time comes."

Echo sighed, "Here's hoping that time never comes. This is Beka's friend, partner we're talking about."

Seneca returned to the police station early the next morning, her mind preoccupied with Beka and the ongoing investigation. She had hoped to make progress on the case, but what she found was far from what she had anticipated. As she entered the station, Seneca immediately saw the damage to her case. The usually neat and orderly filing room was in disarray. Papers were strewn about, and the file cabinets were wide open, their contents scattered across the floor. Her heart sank as she hurried over to her desk, only to find that all the documents related to Beka's case had been destroyed or removed.

"Damn it!" Seneca yelled slamming her hand on her desk. All the work she's been gathering for months is gone, all in one night. Seneca's breath quickened as she frantically searched through the wreckage. All the news clippings and a portrait were gone as well. The realization hit her hard: someone had deliberately sabotaged her investigation. This wasn't just a random act of vandalism—it was a calculated move to hinder her progress.

"Detective Mori, what happened?" a colleague of hers asked stepping into the destroyed office.

"I don't know, why were the silent alarms not going off?" Seneca asked looking at the young rookie cop.

"The wires were severed." He said with little confidence.

"Fuck, rookie take Officer Fisto and do a whole sweep of the office."

"My name is Kanan, Kanan Jarrus." The rookie said a bit annoyed.

"Rookie, today is not the day to correct me, go gather evidence. Now!" Seneca orders.

"Yes sir." Kanan took off running to do as he was told.

Seneca sighed and leaned against her desk, thoughts raced. "Who would have done this? And why?" The answer came with an unsettling clarity: Beka was in danger, and someone wanted to keep her hidden at all costs. Seneca's determination hardened into resolve.

She paused for a moment, staring at the ruined evidence, her face a mixture of anger and frustration. The sense of urgency grew as she realized the depth of the conspiracy she was up against. This was no ordinary case—it was deeply personal, and she was determined to see it through to the end. With another sigh, Seneca gathered what little remained of the evidence, knowing that she would have to start from scratch. As she left the station, her mind was already working on the next steps in her investigation. She would not be deterred by this setback. Beka needed her now more than ever, and Seneca was ready to fight for her.

The living room was silent as the news broadcast started on the large screen. Seneca's face appeared, her expression resolute. The room, filled with Hunter, Crosshair, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker, listened intently.

"Good morning," Seneca began, her voice steady, a stern serious voice spoke up. "I'm Detective Seneca Mori. It's come to my attention that the recent events, including the fire at Miss Ribbon Singer's show, are linked to a larger conspiracy. Despite the threats, I refuse to be intimidated. I will continue to seek the truth and fight for justice. I will not give up."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed as he listened. Leaning toward Hunter, he muttered, "We might have to take care of her if she keeps this up."

Beka, who had been in the kitchen, overheard. Her heart pounded as she rushed into the room, eyes wide with panic. "No! You can't do anything to her."

Hunter glanced at Beka, his expression unreadable. Crosshair remained unmoved, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he swirled a toothpick in his mouth.

"Darling," Hunter said, his voice firm but soft. "She can't keep investing or it will be bad for everyone involved, but we'll think this through."

Beka's face flushed with frustration. "Think this through? This is not something you can just fucking think through. She's not just some threat you can eliminate. She's my friend, and probably the only person I can trust."

Without waiting for a response, Beka stormed out of the room, her steps echoing with anger. Wrecker, quickly followed, his large frame filling the doorway as he went after her. Hunter watched Beka leave, conflicted. Crosshair shrugged, unbothered, and returned to his seat. Echo and Tech exchanged worried glances, the tension in the room palpable.

Wrecker caught up with Beka in the hallway, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure this out."

Beka shook her head, tears of frustration spilling down her cheeks. "I just— I can't believe they'd even think of doing something to her. I just want to protect what little I have left."

Wrecker placed a comforting hug hand on her shoulder, letting her lean into him. "We'll make sure nothing happens to her. We'll figure something out."

Meanwhile, in the living room, Hunter remained seated. He knew Beka's feelings for Seneca ran deep, and though he was determined to keep everyone safe, he also felt the weight of her plea. He stared at the glass that contained the strong amber liquid of whiskey, contemplating the next moves of the Marauder Family.

Hunter cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Alright, we need to talk about our next steps. Beka's made it clear how much Seneca means to her, and it's affecting her more than we thought. We need to figure out how to handle this without escalating things."

Crosshair leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "If Seneca continues to dig into things, she's going to be a problem. We need to think about how to 'take care' of that threat."

Echo frowned, shaking his head. "But we're talking about someone Beka considers family. We can't just ignore that. She's already under a lot of stress."

Tech adjusted his glasses, looking at the screen where Seneca's image was still displayed. "Getting rid of the threat might lead to more complications. We need to approach this delicately."

Wrecker, who had returned after comforting Beka, spoke up. "I agree with Echo and Tech. We need to find a way to get Seneca to stop investigating without making things worse."

Hunter nodded, weighing their words. "I think we should focus on gathering more information. If we understand what we're really up against, we can better decide how to proceed. And we need to keep Beka in the loop. Keeping her out of it could backfire."

Crosshair scowled. "Information's fine, but we need a plan in case things go sideways. If Seneca gets too close to uncovering something she shouldn't, we might not have a choice."

Hunter held up a hand. "We'll avoid taking drastic measures for now. Our priority is to make sure Beka is safe. We'll keep a close watch and adapt as needed."

Echo nodded in agreement. "We can't have Seneca knowing we're involved though. Police and crime bosses don't exactly fucking mix."

Tech tapped his pen on his notebook, "We need to have a strategic plan and execute it safely."

Hunter looked at his brothers, his expression resolute. "Alright, we think of something and something quickly."

As the brothers dispersed, the weight of their decisions hung heavily in the air. They knew that navigating this situation would be delicate, but with a plan in place, they hoped to find a solution that would keep everyone safe and protect the fragile balance within their family.

In the quiet of her room, Beka sat at her desk, pen in hand, struggling to find the right words. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows as she scribbled onto a sheet of paper. Her emotions were raw, and the letter was her way of expressing the turmoil she felt.

"Dear Seneca,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to reach out, not just as an old partner, but as someone who genuinely cares about your safety and well-being.

Things are complicated right now, and I need you to know that I'm okay. I understand you're fighting for the truth, but please, for your own sake, consider stepping back for a while. Your family needs you, and I wouldn't want to see you put yourself in danger over this.

I've always seen you as a sister, and it pains me to think of you in harm's way. Please focus on what matters most—your family. I promise you, I'll be alright. I just need you to be safe and stay with those who need you right now.

With all my heart, 

Rebekath Hardt."

Beka sighed, crumpling the letter slightly. She placed it in a drawer, hiding it from sight, hoping that Seneca would somehow understand her unspoken words.

As she stood to leave her room, Crosshair appeared in the doorway, having been watching Beka. His eyes were hard as he strode in and snatched the letter from the drawer. "What's this?"

Beka's eyes widened. "That's personal. Give it back!"

Ignoring her protests, Crosshair marched out of the room, dragging Beka along with him. Beka struggled, but Crosshair's grip was firm on her arm as he pulled her towards Hunter's office. The corridor felt interminable, each step echoing their tension.

Hunter was at his desk when they burst in. He looked up, his face a mix of surprise and anger. "What's going on here?"

Crosshair threw the letter onto Hunter's desk. "Hardt was writing a letter to Detective Mori. It seems she was planning to rat us out or something."

Hunter's expression darkened. "Crosshair, you had no right to lay hands on her. What's your problem?"

Beka, still fuming, glared at Crosshair. "Read the damn letter first. It's not what you think!"

Hunter picked up the letter and read it quickly. His frown deepened as he finished. He looked up at Beka, a mixture of concern and confusion in his eyes. "So, you weren't planning to expose us?"

Beka shook her head, her voice laced with frustration. "No, I just wanted Seneca to know that I'm okay. I didn't want her to put herself at risk. I'm trying to protect her."

Hunter sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Crosshair, you should have given her the benefit of the doubt. Darling, you need to understand that these situations are tense, and our reactions can be extreme."

Crosshair let Beka go and crossed his arms, still displeased but unwilling to argue further. "Fine, you're not off the hook yet."

Hunter turned to Beka, his voice softer. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. But please, we need to be on the same page." Hunter's eyes softened. "We'll find a way to navigate this without anyone else getting hurt."

Beka only walked out of the office. She sighed, her anger fading into exhaustion.

The tension in the house was thick, and even through the walls. Hunter paced his office, his mind racing over the events of the past few days. The door swung open abruptly, and Crosshair stormed in, his face a mask of frustration and anger.

"Hunter, we need to talk," Crosshair said, his voice strained.

Hunter looked up from his desk, his expression guarded. "What's on your mind?"

Crosshair didn't bother with pleasantries. "What the hell is happening with you? Why are you going soft over some random woman? Since when do you let personal feelings get in the way of our operations?"

Hunter's brow furrowed, and he clenched his jaw. "This is about Beka, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Crosshair snapped flicking his toothpick at Hunter's chest. "We've had countless discussions about keeping things professional, but now you're bending over backward for her. Why?"

Hunter sighed, rubbing his temples. "Beka is special to me in ways you don't fully understand."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed. "And what about the rest of us? We're putting ourselves at risk, making sacrifices, and you're more concerned about her feelings than our safety."

Hunter's voice grew firmer. "It's not just about her feelings. It's about protecting those who matter to us. Beka's been a target, and she's part of this now."

Crosshair's anger flared. "So, what, we just let our guard down because you've got a fucking soft spot for her? What happens when she jeopardizes everything we've worked for? What happens if she decides to walk away and spills our secrets?"

Hunter's face hardened. "Beka's not a threat. I won't just turn my back on her because of your paranoia."

Crosshair's frustration reached a boiling point. "You're not seeing the bigger picture. It's not just about her. It's about us, the family. We've worked too hard to let personal issues jeopardize everything we've built. You can't afford to be distracted by your feelings."

Hunter stood up, his posture rigid. "I'm not letting my feelings cloud my judgment."

Crosshair shook his head, exasperated. "You're playing with fire, Hunter. If you can't keep your damn emotions in check, it's going to come back to bite us."

Hunter's gaze was steely. "If standing by Beka means making tough choices, then so be it. I won't compromise on what matters."

Crosshair threw his hands up in frustration. "Don't say I didn't warn you. When things go south, and we're left picking up the pieces, don't come crying to me."

Without waiting for a response, Crosshair stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Hunter stood alone, the weight of Crosshair's words hanging heavily in the air. As he sat back down, Hunter resolved to prove that he could navigate these challenges without compromising the integrity of their operations or their family.

"Would you like a drink, sir?" One of the servants asked.

"Make it two." Hunter sighed as he turned his chair to face the window, seeing Beka playfully chase Omega with the dogs barking gleefully. He could hear their laughter through the window.

"Will that be all sir?" The servant asked placing down the two drinks on Hunter's desk.

"Fetch Echo, he'll be taking over the duties for today, I will be required sometime to myself," Hunter said as he stood up and began rolling down his sleeves.

"Yes sir." The servant said as he made a quick exit out the door.

Hunter adjusted his tie and as he began to head outside Echo stepped inside, "You needed me, boss?" Echo asked.

"I need to take over for me today, I need to do my own investigation," Hunter explained.

Echo raised an eyebrow but only nodded. Hunter walked past his young brother and closed the door behind him.

In the soft light of the late afternoon, Hunter made his way to the mansion's sprawling garden, drawn by the sound of laughter echoing through the air. From a distance, he spotted Beka, her graceful figure illuminated by the golden sun as she playfully chased after Omega, who squealed in delight while trying to dodge her.

Beka, with a mischievous grin, finally managed to catch the young girl by the waist, pulling her into a tight embrace. They both tumbled gently into the soft, cool grass, Omega's laughter ringing out like music in the quiet garden.

"Wrecker, save me!" Omega cried out, her voice full of playful desperation.

Wrecker, who was sitting on a nearby bench with a book in hand, glanced up briefly. He chuckled at the scene before him, shaking his head in amusement before returning to his reading.

"You thought you could escape the tickle monster, didn't you?" Beka teased, her eyes twinkling with a playful evil glint. She gently dug her fingers into Omega's sides, eliciting another round of giggles from the young girl.

After a few moments of playful torture, Beka relented, holding Omega close in her arms. She rested her chin on top of the girl's head, her expression softening as she looked over to her side, catching sight of Hunter. He stood there, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, his gaze fixed on her.

"Hey, back when I was a detective, we used to put people in headlocks," Beka said with a small, knowing smile.

Omega turned her head to listen, her curiosity piqued. Beka demonstrated a quick technique, while Omega watched with anticipation. "You should try it on Wrecker. Sneak up on him from behind," she whispered to Omega, who beamed with excitement before rushing off to where Wrecker sat.

Beka stood, brushing off the remnants of grass and dirt from her dress, before walking over to where Hunter waited. As she approached, the distance between them seemed to close not just physically, but emotionally, though an invisible barrier still lingered between them.

"Having fun?" Hunter asked, his voice warm yet tinged with something deeper.

"She's a special kid," Beka replied, her eyes following Omega as she attempted to take Wrecker by surprise. There was a softness in her gaze, a tenderness that spoke of a longing she could never quite express. For a moment, she looked at Omega as though the girl were her own daughter, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips.

"Gotcha!" Omega exclaimed as she leaped behind Wrecker, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck in an attempt at a headlock. Wrecker, unbothered, simply turned another page of his book. "Come on, Wrecker, you're supposed to fall over!" Omega pouted, though she couldn't help but giggle at her own failed attempt.

Hunter watched the interaction with a faint smile before turning his full attention to Beka. "I wanted to talk to you," he said, his tone serious as he looked straight into her eyes, his expression unreadable.

"About what?" Beka asked, her voice calm but tinged with a hint of apprehension. The way he was looking at her, it was as if he could see right through the walls, she had built around herself.

Hunter hesitated, his gaze searching hers as if weighing his words carefully. The garden, once filled with the playful sounds of Omega's laughter, now seemed almost too quiet, the air thick with the tension between them.

"I've been thinking... about us," he finally said, his voice low, almost as if he was afraid to say the words aloud. "About everything that's happened and everything that's... still between us."

Beka's heart skipped a beat. She had spent these last few months guarding herself, building walls so high that not even Hunter could breach them. But now, standing so close to him, those walls seemed to crumble, threatening to collapse under the weight of his gaze.

"What's there to say, Hunter?" Beka replied, her voice soft but laced with the remnants of old pain. "We both know where we stand. What's done is done."

Hunter took a step closer, closing the gap between them. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm, sending a familiar warmth through her that she hadn't felt in years. "Maybe that's just it, darling. Maybe we never really dealt with what happened. We just... buried it."

Beka looked down, her eyes tracing the patterns in the grass beneath her shoes. "It's not that simple," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Too much has changed."

"I know," Hunter said, his voice gentle, yet firm. "But some things haven't. I can see it in your eyes, Beka. The way you look at Omega... the way you look at me. There's still something there. Isn't there?"

Beka swallowed hard, the truth of his words hitting her like a punch to the gut. She had spent so long convincing herself that she had moved on. But now, standing here with him, she realized that those feelings had never really gone away. They had only been buried, like the very thing Hunter spoke of.

She raised her eyes to meet his, her defenses crumbling despite her best efforts. "What do you want from me, Hunter?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I want us to be honest with each other," he said, his hand sliding down her arm until it reached hers, his fingers intertwining with hers. "I want to know if there's still a chance for us... if we can find a way back to what we had."

Beka's breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of his hand around hers, a warmth that both comforted and terrified her. Could they really go back? Could they rebuild what had been broken, or was it too late?

"I don't know if we can," Beka admitted, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "There's so much between us... so much that's unresolved."

Hunter squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing motion. "Then let's start with that. Let's resolve it. Together."

Beka looked into his eyes, searching for the sincerity in his words. Beka felt the weight of Hunter's words, the sincerity in his voice, and the warmth of his hand in hers. But as much as she wanted to believe in the possibility of a fresh start, the wounds of the past still ached deep within her.

She gently pulled her hand away, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. "Hunter, I... I need time," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Hunter's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I get that, darling. Take all the time you need. Just know that I'm here... waiting, whenever you're ready."

Beka managed a small, grateful smile, though her heart was still in turmoil. She whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just need to sort through everything... to see if there's still a place for us in each other's lives."

Hunter stepped back slightly, giving her the space, she needed. "I'll be here," he repeated softly. "No matter what you decide."

With that, Beka turned, her eyes drifting back to Omega, who was now wrestling with Wrecker in the grass, her laughter bright and carefree. Beka's heart swelled with motherly affection for the child, but the uncertainty about her future with Hunter weighed heavily on her.

"Beka help!" Omega yelled with laughter.

"You gotta squeeze harder Omega!" Beka called out walking towards them with a big smile on her face.

Hunter watched her go, deep inside he was afraid of what her decision would be.

Chapter summary: finding placement among the mafia

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 3283

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 14

In his office, Crosshair watched Hunter with a frown. His brother's usual intensity was replaced by a distant, almost dreamy expression. Crosshair knew Hunter well enough to recognize the signs of infatuation. It wasn't just that Hunter's gaze lingered on Beka, it was the way his whole demeanor softened whenever her name came up.

As Hunter stared absently at a report, Crosshair approached, unable to contain his irritation. "You're distracted," he said sharply. "You're not even looking at what you're supposed to be doing."

Hunter glanced up, snapping out of his reverie. "What? Oh, sorry, Crosshair. I just—"

"Just what?" Crosshair cut him off, his tone edged with frustration. "You're too focused on her. It's like you've forgotten everything else."

Hunter shifted uncomfortably. "It's not like that. I'm just—"

"Just what?" Crosshair's voice rose slightly. "You're making it obvious to everyone. I've seen how you look at her, how you act around her. It's affecting your work, and it's starting to annoy me."

Hunter's eyes narrowed. "Your point?"

"My point," Crosshair said, his voice low and intense, "that you need to get your head out of your ass and get back in the game. We all have responsibilities, and you're letting your feelings get in the way."

Hunter's expression hardened. "I care about Beka. She saved Omega, does that not count for anything to you?"

Crosshair's frustration flared. "You're letting it consume you. What about the rest of us? What about the work we have to do?"

Hunter remained silent and looked outside his window to see Beka making her way through the expansive gardens, examining the variety of plants and flowers. Wrecker trailed behind her, his eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance.

Beka stopped abruptly and turned, her patience thinning. "Wrecker, do you still have to follow me everywhere?"

Wrecker, taken aback, looked at her with a mixture of sincerity and frustration. "Honestly, it's not that I mind being around. It's just... it's part of the job. Crosshair still thinks you're a danger. Even though you've been here for months, and it's clear you're not a threat, I'm stuck following you."

Beka's expression softened slightly, "Isn't it a bit much though? Like you said, I've been here for months now."

Wrecker shrugged, trying to balance his response with honesty. "Yeah, it is. I mean, it's not the most exciting work, and it's been going on for quite a while. But I do what I'm told. If Crosshair thinks it's necessary, then that's what I do."

Beka sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "It's just hard to feel some normalcy when you're constantly under surveillance."

Wrecker's expression softened as he looked at her. "I get it. It's not ideal for either of us. I wish things were different too. But thanks for being kind to Omega. She doesn't really have a role model..."

Beka gently placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. "I care about her too."

Wrecker returned a small smile, his usual toughness giving way to a hint of warmth. "I'll keep doing my job, but I'll try to make it a bit easier on you."

As they resumed their walk through the garden, the tension between them eased a bit. Wrecker's candor and Beka's understanding helped bridge a small gap in their interactions, making the long days of surveillance a little more bearable for both of them.

Echo stood on a balcony overlooking the garden, where Beka and Wrecker continued their walk. He watched them with a thoughtful expression, noting the way Beka occasionally glanced up at the sky, her demeanor calm despite the persistent surveillance. Crosshair leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold.

Echo turned to him, breaking the silence. "Crosshair, are you ever going to ease up on Beka? She's been here for months, and she's done nothing but a lot of good here."

Crosshair's silence was telling. He didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the garden with an unwavering intensity. He shifted the toothpick with his mouth and grunted.

"Might I add she did save Omega, not even hesitating and even not asking for special treatment because of it," Tech added.

"That's the detective side of her," Phee explained.

"She could use it later on us." Crosshair retorted back grabbing the toothpick from his mouth.

"Your paranoia is getting old Cross, look Beka has been through so much hell here at least cut her some slack, give her the benefit of the doubt," Echo said.

"And if you're all wrong?" Crosshair asked pulling the toothpick out and pointing it accusingly at Echo.

"Then we deal with the consequences like always deal with things," Hunter answered standing from his desk.

As the group continued discussing Beka's potential role, Beka and Wrecker strolled back toward the mansion, Beka's gaze caught sight of the group on the balcony—Hunter, Echo, Tech, Phee, and Crosshair, deep in conversation. The way they clustered together, their intense focus, and the occasional glance in her direction made it clear they were discussing something significant.

Beka's brow furrowed as she turned to Wrecker. "They're talking about me, aren't they?"

Wrecker, looking a bit uncomfortable, nodded in response. "Yeah. They are."

Beka sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. "Funny, isn't it? You didn't trust me at first because I was a former cop. Now you don't trust yourselves and your own judgment about what's best for me."

Wrecker sighed heavily, a look of empathy in his eyes. "It's not that simple, Beka. They're just trying to figure out what's best for everyone, including you."

Beka's tone grew sharper. "In case anyone forgot, I was brought here against my will. I didn't ask for this. I'm just trying to keep my head down, but it seems like there's always something that pulls it back up. All I really want is my freedom—to make my own choices without being constantly watched or questioned."

Wrecker looked at her, his expression softening. "I know. It's frustrating. But right now, everyone's just trying to make sense of things. They're not sure how to handle the situation, especially with Crosshair's concerns."

Beka shook her head, her frustration palpable. "I'm not asking for special treatment. I'm just asking for a fair chance to be able to leave freely. If they can't trust me after all this time, maybe they should take a step back and reassess why they're so unsure."

Wrecker nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "Your effort and presence haven't gone unnoticed. Just hang in there. Things will eventually work out."

As Beka and Wrecker approached the mansion, the weight of the unspoken tensions hung heavy in the air. Beka's frustration with the ongoing scrutiny was evident.

They made it to the music room, the sun filtering through the tall windows and casting a warm light over the grand piano. Beka was immersed in playing a gentle, flowing melody, her fingers dancing across the keys with practiced ease. The soothing notes filled the room.

Omega came in and sat on a nearby chair, watching Beka intently. Wrecker sat by the door, his usual stance of quiet observation slightly more engaged as he took in the scene.

As the piece reached a particularly delicate passage, Omega's curiosity got the better of her. She tilted her head and asked softly, "Beka, do you love Hunter?"

The question hung in the air, and Beka's fingers faltered on the keys, causing a discordant note to break the otherwise smooth melody. She looked up, momentarily stunned by the unexpected question. Wrecker's eyes widened slightly, his gaze shifting between Beka and Omega. He leaned in a bit, clearly interested in the unfolding conversation.

Beka took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She hesitated, her mind racing to find the right words. "That's... a complicated question, Omega."

Omega's expression was earnest, her curiosity apparent. "You've been here for a while, and you seem to have a good relationship with him. I was just wondering."

Beka's fingers resumed their place on the keys, but her playing had lost its earlier fluidity. She struggled to find her rhythm, her mind distracted by Omega's question.

"Hunter and I... we have a complicated relationship. Things are not straightforward. There are a lot of factors at play."

Wrecker shifted uncomfortably, his usual demeanor of detached.

Omega nodded thoughtfully, sensing the weight of Beka's words. "I didn't mean to make things difficult. I just wanted to know how you felt."

Beka's fingers found their way back to a simple, comforting tune. "It's alright, Omega. It's a fair question. Just know that right now, I'm more focused on understanding my place here and what the future holds."

As the music resumed its gentle flow, the room felt slightly different. The question introduced a new layer of complexity to Beka's situation, but it also highlighted the importance of honesty and self-reflection.

Wrecker watched, understanding the weight of the moment, and Omega settled back into her chair, content with the response. The piano's melodies continued to fill the room, offering a semblance of solace amidst the uncertainties of her heart.

Beka played till the sunlight was replaced by moonlight. By this time Omega had fallen fast asleep, Beka picked her up and headed to her room with Wrecker following as usual. She tucked Omega in her bed making sure she was comfortable. Beka and Wrecker made it back into the music room, where she sat back at the piano and played soothing melodies to match the calm outside. The quiet of the night was interrupted by a loud, scrabbling noise coming from the attic.

Wrecker's eyes widened. "Did you hear that?"

Beka nodded, a frown creasing her brow. "Yeah, it sounded like it's coming from the attic."

Wrecker's face lit up with determination. "It's probably just a raccoon or something. I'm going to go check it out."

Before Beka could protest, Wrecker grabbed a sturdy bat from the closet. "Stay here," he said, heading for the attic stairs.

Beka hurried after him. "Wait, Wrecker, don't—"

Wrecker was already up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and determined. When he reached the attic, he swung the bat at the attic door, which creaked open. The noise intensified as they climbed up, echoing through the wooden beams. Beka found an old flashlight by the door and turned it on the bright flash illuminating the dark space.

As Wrecker prepared to swing the bat, "Stay back. Let me check first." Wrecker ordered.

Beka carefully climbed into the attic behind Wrecker, and a silent cry called out. "Wrecker wait," Beka whispered, she grabbed Wrecker's arm to get to stop. She dropped to her hands and knees to peer into the dimly lit space. The noise had stopped, replaced by a soft, pitiful mewling.

Beka's eyes adjusted to the dark aiming the flashlight in the direction of the sound, and she spotted a tiny white kitten with black spots huddled in a corner. Next to them lay a lifeless mother cat. Her heart sank at the sight. "Oh no," Beka murmured, her voice gentle.

Wrecker joined her, his eyes widening with concern. "Is it okay?"

Beka slowly reached out, her movements deliberate and calm. The kitten hissed but didn't back away. She picked it up carefully, cradling it in her hands. "It's just a kitten." Beka looked and saw a dead rat beside the mother's mouth. "Did the servants put rat poison up here?" Beka looked at Wrecker with sadness.

"They put rodenticide everywhere in the mansion," Wrecker said with a curious look on his face.

"The mother ate the rat that ate the poison," Beka explained. The kitten squirmed but seemed to calm down as Beka held it close. Despite its initial hissing, it soon began to nuzzle against her hand. Beka laughed softly, her heartwarming at the kitten's spunky attitude. "Look at you. You've got some fight in you."

Wrecker watched, his expression softening. "What are we going to do with it?"

Beka glanced at him, her eyes twinkling with a mix of sadness and affection. "We'll take care of them. It's going to need some help."

Wrecker nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Alright. Let's get out of here, I'll get the servants to take care of the mother cat."

Beka stood up, still holding the kitten. "Sounds like a plan. And maybe this little guy will brighten up our days a bit." As she carefully carried the kitten downstairs, the mood in the house shifted.

The next morning, the dining table was bustling with activity, the aroma of food mingling with the lively chatter. Beka sat at the table with the tiny kitten in her lap, carefully bottle-feeding it. The room was filled with curiosity as everyone took in the newest member of their makeshift family.

Omega entered the room, her eyes widening when she saw the kitten. "Is that a kitten? Can I see it?"

Beka smiled warmly and lifted the kitten so Omega could get a closer look. "Yes, this little one is quite the handful."

Omega's excitement was palpable. "Can we keep him?"

Before anyone could answer, Crosshair, who had been serving himself, interjected with a hint of annoyance. "We're not keeping it. It's just a stray."

The kitten, sensing Crosshair's disapproval, arched its back and hissed at him, its tiny fur bristling defensively. The sound was surprisingly fierce for such a small creature.

Beka laughed softly, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, he certainly has a lot of sprig of energy. Hmm, how about we call you Sprig?" Beka held the kitten up to her face.

Hunter, who had been observing the interaction, raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Omega looked at him with hopeful eyes, clearly desperate for his approval. Crosshair's scowl softened slightly as he watched the kitten hiss at him.

"Alright, if we're keeping him, it's your two's responsibility. No excuses." Hunter nodded, glancing at Beka and then at Omega.

Omega beamed with joy, wrapping her arms around her brother's waist, "Thank you, Hunter! We'll take good care of him, I promise!" She turned her attention back towards the kitten as if to shield him from any more disapproval.

Beka looked at Hunter with gratitude. "Sprig's going to be a good addition here."

"Kittens his age need daily feeding and will need to be checked by a vet for an exam." Tech cut in adjusting his glasses looking at the little fluff ball in Beka's lap.

That afternoon sun filtered gently through the windows of the music room. Beka was seated at the grand piano, her fingers gliding over the keys, filling the space with soft, melodic tunes. The kitten, Sprig, had settled near her, his tiny eyes fixated on the movement of her hands.

As Beka played, Sprig's curiosity got the better of him. He bounded up onto the piano, his little paws slipping slightly on the polished surface. He pounced playfully at the moving keys, causing a series of random, discordant notes to ring out.

Beka paused, her laughter bubbling up as she watched Sprig's antics. "Careful there! You're making your own music."

Sprig mewed, his tiny black tail twitching as he batted at the keys with his paws. His playful behavior was endearing, and Beka couldn't help but smile. She continued to play, allowing the melody to blend with Sprig's playful interruptions. Eventually, Sprig became more adventurous, climbing up onto the piano's top and batting at the sheet music. Beka adjusted the music to keep it out of his reach, her laughter mingling with the gentle notes of her playing.

Sprig, undeterred, jumped down and pounced on Beka's flowing dress, his little claws occasionally catching the fabric. He chased after the trailing edges with unrestrained enthusiasm, his playful nature evident in every leap and bound.

Wrecker, who had been watching from the doorway with a bemused smile, stepped into the room. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing with a mix of amusement and protectiveness. "Looks like Sprig's taken a liking to you," he said, his voice rumbling softly.

Beka looked up, her eyes sparkling with joy. "He certainly has. He's full of energy, isn't he?"

Wrecker nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "Yeah, he's a little whirlwind. Just make sure he doesn't turn your piano into a playground."

Beka chuckled as she carefully picked up Sprig, cradling him against her chest. "Don't worry, I've got it under control."

Wrecker took a seat nearby, watching over them with a relaxed demeanor. Beka stroked Sprig's soft fur, enjoying the soothing purrs that resonated against her.

In that simple, serene afternoon, Beka and Sprig shared a bond that transcended words. The quiet harmony of music and companionship created a perfect balance.

For the next two days, the mansion was a labyrinth of rooms and corridors, each turn leading to new spaces filled with eclectic furnishings and hidden corners. Beka found herself trailing after the mischievous kitten, Sprig, who had decided to explore every nook and cranny. She moved from room to room, her eyes scanning for the tiny furball that seemed to dart in and out of sight with boundless energy. Sprig had taken a particular liking to hide in the most unexpected places: behind drapes, under furniture, and occasionally on top of shelves.

As she rounded a corner, Beka spotted Sprig darting into a large, ornate room filled with old furniture and dusty antiques. She followed, her laughter ringing through the space as Sprig's tail flicked out from behind a tall cabinet.

Just then, Wrecker appeared in the doorway, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild exasperation. He watched as Beka crawled on her hands and knees, peeking under a couch.

"Come back here you little troublemaker." Beka giggled.

"Seriously? Are you actually following a cat around the mansion?" Wrecker asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Beka looked up from her pursuit, her face breaking into a playful grin. "I'm just making sure Sprig doesn't get himself into too much trouble. Besides, you follow me around every day. What's the difference?"

Wrecker raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "Well, I follow you to keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe. Following a kitten around seems a bit... excessive."

Beka shook her head, carefully coaxing Sprig out from behind the cabinet. "It's not excessive. He's still figuring out his new home, and besides, he's so tiny and full of curiosity. He could get into all sorts of trouble." Sprig finally emerged, bounding toward Beka with an excited meow. She scooped him up and cradled him against her chest. "See? He's just exploring, and I want to make sure he's alright."

Wrecker shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright, alright. I guess chasing a kitten around is harmless."

Beka laughed, gently rubbing Sprig's head. "Exactly. And it's actually kind of fun. You should try it sometime."

Wrecker rolled his eyes, but his grin widened. "I think I'll leave the kitten-chasing to you and Omega. I've got enough on my plate."

Beka stood up, holding Sprig securely. "Fair enough."

Wrecker nodded and followed her back toward the more populated parts of the mansion. "Just don't let him get into too much trouble."

Beka smiled warmly as she looked down at the kitten, who had settled comfortably in her arms. "I won't. He's part of the family now, after all."

As they walked back through the mansion, the lighthearted banter and the sight of Beka and Sprig brought a sense of warmth and normalcy to the sprawling house..

Chapter summary: Kitten escapades

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 6704

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 15

The family would watch Beka and Omega invest a lot of their time in the kitten much to the dogs' disapproval. "Don't worry Gonky and Batcher, you're still my favorite dogs." Omega giggled petting the dogs' heads.

Tech would do regular exams on Sprig to make sure he was well. Sprig would often bat at Tech's glasses or any of his medical equipment with playful curiosity. Beka would always chuckle silently seeing Tech try to his exams which would end with the kitten climbing all over his head. Sprig would often find himself spending time with Echo, the little cat never seen someone like him, he often rubs up at Echo's legs. Echo at first is annoyed but eventually gives into the kitten's little charm.

Sometimes the kitten finds his way into Hunter's office. He often climbed up on the desk and distracted Hunter. Hunter found it amusing.

Crosshair would be annoyed at this. "Scat!" he yelled, as he flicked his toothpicks at the kitten, unfortunately to Sprig, he believed it was just another toy for him.

Hunter laughed lightly seeing how it backfired terribly. Omega would rush into the office grabbing the little kitten with Beka peaking from the doorframe. "Sorry Hunter," Omega said apologetically.

"You gotta keep a better eye on him." Hunter teased.

Omega smiled and ran out with Sprig and Beka following behind.

That night, Hunter and Crosshair were going over more potential suspects who could be after Beka.

"This is getting old, do we have any leads on Hardt's stalker?" Crosshair angrily asked.

Before Hunter could respond, the door creaked open, and Beka stepped in, her presence immediately drawing both brothers' attention. She was carrying a tray with tea and snacks, her demeanor calm and friendly.

"Uh, thought you might want a break," Beka said with a warm smile, placing the tray on the desk. "The servants are currently dealing with Wrecker and Tech at the moment..."

Hunter gave a soft snort, Beka didn't have to explain anymore. His gaze softened as he looked up at her. "Thanks, darling. That's really thoughtful."

Crosshair, feeling a surge of frustration, stepped back. "I'll leave you to it," he muttered, turning on his heel and walking out.

Beka watched Crosshair leave, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Is everything alright?"

Hunter sighed, reaching for a cup of tea. "He's just being Crosshair. You know how he gets."

Beka took a seat across from him. "When is he not being Crosshair."

Hunter chuckled at that remark. He took a sip of his tea. "Thanks for bringing this."

"Anything?" She asked looking at the corkboard full of notes, maps, and potential suspects.

"Nothing, it's like who was after you dropped off the map." Hunter sighed.

"I can help, you forget I was a detective and a damn good one too," Beka said looking at Hunter with a serious look in her eyes.

"That's why I don't want you to, they learn you're alive they could strike again," Hunter explained putting a hand under her chin.

Beka turned away, she settled into the chair, Hunter's gaze lingered on her, his feelings for her evident. 

At dinner that night, tension at the table was palpable as Crosshair's words hung in the air. Beka's hand tightened around her fork, her knuckles turning white. She had endured enough of his cold jabs and biting comments. The anger that simmered beneath her calm exterior finally boiled over.

Hunter shot a warning glance at Crosshair. "That's enough, Crosshair. She doesn't need your crap right now."

Crosshair smirked, ignoring Hunter. "Still hiding behind that mask, Miss Ribbon Singer? Afraid we might see the real you?"

Without warning, Beka shot up from her chair, spun around, and landed a solid punch squarely on Crosshair's jaw. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the floor, a look of shock and fury on his face.

"You think you can keep pushing me?" Beka snarled, her voice trembling with rage. She didn't give him a chance to respond. She straddled him, fists flying in a flurry of punches, each one driven by months of pent-up frustration and pain. Blood spattered from Crosshair's nose and mouth, staining the floor and her hands.

"Beka! Stop!" Tech's voice cut through the chaos, but she was lost in her fury. Phee rushed over, grabbing Beka by the shoulders, trying to pull her off Crosshair.

"Let go of me!" Beka screamed, tears streaming down her face. "I've had enough of him!"

"Beka, please!" Omega cried, standing at the edge of the room, her face pale with fear. "Stop hurting him!"

Wrecker, looking torn, about ready to step forward but looking at his sister he decided to stay and guard her.

Tech and Phee finally managed to yank her off Crosshair, who lay on the floor, bloodied and dazed. Beka stood there, chest heaving, her face contorted with rage and sorrow. She took one last look at Crosshair before breaking into sobs, turning, and running down the hallway to her room.

Crosshair staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. He spat out more blood and sneered, "See, she's a risk."

Hunter stepped in, his voice sharp and commanding. "That's enough, Crosshair." His eyes bore into Crosshair with a mix of concern and anger. "You're pushing your luck."

Crosshair wiped at his face again, his gaze still defiant but now shadowed by a flicker of regret. "She doesn't belong here, Hunter."

"She's here now," Hunter shot back. "And you need to start respecting that."

Echo, standing near the doorway, finally stepped in. "It was only a matter of time before she snapped."

Crosshair looked away, the room falling into an uneasy silence.

Omega approached Hunter, her eyes wide. "Is Beka going to be, okay?"

Hunter nodded, though worry etched his features. "She just needs some time. I'll talk to her."

In her room, Beka collapsed onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. The events played over and over in her mind, the weight of her actions crashing down on her. Hunter knocked gently before entering, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her trembling form.

"I'm sorry," she whispered between sobs. "I just... I couldn't take it anymore."

"I know," Hunter said softly, holding her close. "He deserved it honestly."

Everyone gathered in silence at the dining table, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Tech sighed, adjusting his glasses as he examined Crosshair's face. "She's been with us for months. We need to figure out how to make this work." He bandaged his brother's face making sure not to be gentle.

Crosshair flinched as Wrecker nodded in agreement with Tech.

Phee placed a hand on Crosshair's shoulder. "You know she was bound to snap, and honestly you deserved it. You also need to understand. She's here, whether you like it or not."

Crosshair looked up, his eyes meeting Phee's. He muttered something under his breath before sticking a toothpick in his busted lip.

"She didn't break your nose thankfully," Tech remarked as he placed a bandage on his nose.

Echo chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest.  "She got you good."

"Hardt just had a lucky shot. Ow." Crosshair retorted back as Tech put more bandages around his head.

"Well take it as a lesson, Beka too knows how to fight back. She was a cop after all." Echo pointed out.

Omega glanced upstairs towards Beka's room, a look of determination on her face. "We'll make it work. We have to."

"We can only try sweetie," Phee responded putting a comforting hand on Omega's shoulder.

Hunter rejoined them, his expression resolute. "She wants to be alone, but I do want you two to bandage her up though." Hunter looked between Tech and Echo, who nodded to him. "Wrecker just stand at the door until she falls asleep, make sure she doesn't try to hurt herself again." He added.

Wrecker nodded and took his place as the others started dispersing. Crosshair sat alone at the dinner table, staring at the blood on his hands, the consequences of his actions finally hitting home.

Beka sat on the edge of her bed, her hands shaking and covered in blood—not just Crosshair's, but her own as well. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off, leaving her feeling exhausted and hollow. She stared at her knuckles, split and bruised from the impact of her punches. The room was dimly lit, shadows playing across the walls as if echoing her turbulent emotions.

A gentle knock on the door made her look up. Tech and Echo entered, carrying a first aid kit. Tech adjusted his glasses, his expression of concern. Echo approached her with a quiet, comforting presence.

"Let's get those hands cleaned up," Echo said softly, kneeling beside her. He opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages. Tech sat down on her other side, ready to assist.

Beka winced as Echo carefully cleaned her wounds. "I did some damage on Crosshair, didn't I?" she said, her voice trembling with guilt.

Tech nodded, his tone gentle. "He'll live."

"He's a jackass and a tough one at that. Crosshair has been in way worse than getting his ass handed to him." Echo smirked as he inspected Beka's knuckles.

As Echo wrapped her hands in bandages, Beka's eyes lingered on his prosthetic arm and legs. She hesitated, then asked, "Will he ever accept the fact I'm here?"

Echo paused for a moment, then continued bandaging her hands as he spoke. "Maybe, took him forever to accept Phee."

Beka's eyes widened with curiosity. "Really? Phee never mentioned it. What happened?"

Tech chimed in, adjusting his glasses. "Crosshair made a smart mouth comment and Phee punched him across his face."

Beka couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, "That sounds like her."

"Reasons why I love her," Tech smirked as he continued to bandage the rest of her hands.

Echo finished bandaging up one of her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You're strong, Beka. You've been through a lot, and you've made it this far. Don't give up yet."

"The universe is telling me not to give up, didn't give up when I was a street rat, didn't give up on me when I left the force, it doesn't seem to want to leave me alone." Beka tried to make a joke.

Tech looked at her with genuine interest. "I've been curious about that but didn't want to pry. How did you survive? Also how do you know to read and write if you were orphaned and homeless so young?"

"I snuck into the local library to find shelter, food, or anything really. The local librarian, Jocasta Nu, would always have books for me and taught me how to write. Still, I had to steal, I'm not proud of it. I stole from the wrong shop and was caught, but instead of turning me in he felt pity for me and gave me a job and home." Beka explained telling some the same story she told Phee.

"You never talked much about your family," Echo added.

"I talk about Gruno and Jetto all the time." Beka looked confused.

"Biological." Tech corrected.

"Oh, I don't remember much—I was only seven when they were killed in the first war," Beka began. "My parents were diplomatic senators from Yi Xue, my home country. When I became a detective, I investigated their deaths. I discovered it was a planned assassination. The killer was caught, but by then, he had drained the family's accounts, sold anything valuable, and used the remaining money to pay for lawyers." Beka sighed, the memories rushing back. "My country fell into ruins and eventually joined the enemy during the war. I couldn't return home."

"You were the senator's daughter surely someone would have helped," Echo said looking confused.

Beka shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "You'd think so, right? But the political landscape shifted quickly. Those who once called my parents allies turned their backs the moment it became inconvenient. There was too much fear, too much chaos. No one wanted to risk being associated with a family that had been marked for death."

Echo's brow furrowed in concern. "But you were just a child."

"I was," Beka replied softly. "But in times of war, people can be cruel, especially when their survival is at stake. I learned that the hard way. I had to fend for myself and find my own way. It was the only way I could survive."

Echo nodded, understanding in his eyes. "So, you turned things around, didn't you?"

"I tried, the world chewed me up and spit me out, but I tried to do some good to make up for my past mistakes," Beka explained.

Tech's gaze softened. "That takes a lot of courage, Beka. To pull yourself out of that situation and strive for something better."

Beka shrugged, though she appreciated the sentiment. "I did what I had to. But it's still hard sometimes, facing the past and dealing with everything."

Echo placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You can always talk to us if you need to, we do care about you. Even Crosshair, in his own dick way."

Beka let out a small, bitter laugh. "Really? Crosshair has a funny way of showing it."

Tech smiled gently. "He does. But he's family. We fight, we make up, and we move forward."

Beka looked at Echo and Tech, then looked down at her hands, "Thanks, boys."

Tech nodded. "Anytime. Now, get some rest. You need it."

Echo stood, offering her a reassuring nod. "If you ever need to talk, we're here. Just remember that."

As they left the room, Beka lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The pain in her hands was a dull throb now, a reminder of the night's events.

Hunter stood alone in his study, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. He leaned against the polished mahogany desk, his thoughts heavy as he stared out the window.

Outside, the mansion grounds were shrouded in darkness, a place that had become both a sanctuary and a prison for Beka. He had kept her here, believing it was for her safety, convinced that the outside world held too many dangers. He could still see the way Beka looked at him, those moments of silent yearning in her eyes, tempered by the frustration of being caged.

She had saved Omega without hesitation, and in doing so, she was rewarded to just sit in a big, large house most of her days. With a deep breath, Hunter made up his mind. It was time to give Beka a taste of the world back, beyond the mansion's gates—a world where she could reclaim some semblance of normalcy, if only for a day.

Later that evening, Hunter found Beka in one of the mansion's grand sitting rooms, lost in thought as she gazed out the window. She turned as he entered, surprise flickering in her eyes as she noticed the determined expression on his face.

"Darling," he began, his voice steady but tinged with an underlying emotion that caught her off guard. "There's something I want to do for you." She tilted her head slightly, curiosity replacing the weariness that often clouded her features. He stepped closer, taking her hands in his. "I'm taking you out tomorrow," he said, his tone firm yet warm. "Away from the mansion, away from all of this. You deserve a day out, to see something other than these walls."

Beka blinked in surprise, the words sinking in. For a moment, she could hardly believe what she was hearing. "You're... letting me go?" she asked, her voice soft, as if she feared this was some kind of dream.

Hunter nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No, not that—I'm taking you out. I want to take you somewhere special, to a place where we can forget about everything, if only for a little while."

A smile spread across Beka's face, a mixture of disbelief and genuine happiness. It was the first time in a long while that she had felt such lightness in her heart. "Really," she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Really," Hunter responded kissing her bandaged hand.

The next morning, Beka woke with a flutter of excitement in her chest, a feeling she hadn't experienced in months. The prospect of leaving the mansion, of seeing the outside world again, filled her with a sense of anticipation that had long been absent from her life.

The servants carefully selected a dress from her limited wardrobe—a simple yet elegant navy blue dress that accentuated her figure. As she dressed, she couldn't help but smile. With her hair styled in soft short waves and her makeup delicately applied, Beka felt more like herself than she had in ages.

The excitement bubbled within her as she made her way downstairs, each step echoing in the grand hallway of the mansion. When she reached the bottom, she found Hunter waiting for her, his presence both reassuring and comforting.

Hunter stood near the door, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that matched the elegance of the occasion. His expression softened when he saw her, a warm smile playing on his lips. In his hands, he held a pair of gloves—a beautiful navy blue pair, matching her dress perfectly.

"What are these for?" Beka asked, her curiosity piqued as she took the gloves from him. The material was smooth and soft to the touch.

"To protect your hands," Hunter replied, his smile widening as he watched her examine the gloves. There was something tender in the way he said it, a quiet gesture of thoughtfulness that touched her deeply.

Beka slipped the gloves on, feeling the fabric conform to her hands with a snug, perfect fit. She admired them for a moment and then looked up at Hunter with a grateful smile. "They're perfect," she said softly.

Hunter extended his arm to her, his movements deliberate and filled with a quiet confidence that had always made her feel safe. Beka wrapped her arm around his, her smaller hand resting gently on his forearm. The simple act of linking arms felt intimate, a connection that made the moment all the more special. Together, they walked out of the mansion to the car, stepping into the crisp morning air.

The world beyond the mansion's gates awaited them, filled with the promise of new experiences and the thrill of freedom even if it was for a day. As the car hummed, Beka's heart soared. Hunter drove them to a nearby town of Corellia, far enough from their troubles, yet close enough to still feel familiar.

As they arrived, Hunter stepped out and opened Beka's door for her. He held his hand out for her to take. Beka looked around like she was seeing the world for the first time again. The warmth of Hunter's arm beneath her hand was a reminder that, for the first time in a long while, she was free—free to explore, to breathe, and to rediscover the joy of living. The picturesque streets were lined with charming shops and quaint cafes.

Beka's eyes widened in awe as they strolled down the cobblestone paths. The town was alive with color and life—flowers bloomed in every window box, the scent of fresh bread wafted from bakeries, and the sound of soft jazz drifted from a nearby café.

Hunter watched her as she took it all in. It was in this moment, seeing her smile so freely, that he knew he had made the right choice. For the first time in a long while, Beka seemed truly happy, and that made everything worth it.

As they wandered through the charming streets of the town, Beka's excitement only grew. The town was bustling with life, the shop windows adorned with colorful displays that beckoned passersby to explore their treasures. Hunter watched as Beka's eyes lit up with curiosity and delight, her steps quickening as she approached a quaint boutique nestled between a café and a bookstore.

Inside, the boutique was a haven of elegant fabrics and delicate accessories. Beka moved from rack to rack, her fingers grazing over the soft textures of silk scarves and lace gloves, her eyes sparkling with the joy of discovery. She held up a beautiful ruby-rose dress, admiring the way the fabric shimmered in the light, and turned to Hunter with a questioning look.

Hunter, standing near the entrance with his hands in his pockets, couldn't help but sigh softly. Shopping wasn't exactly his idea of a thrilling morning. He was used to more action and more purpose in his movements. The endless array of clothes, the seemingly never-ending deliberation over each piece—it was, admittedly, a bit boring for him.

He shifted his weight, glancing around the shop, trying to keep his patience in check. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Beka. She was holding up a pair of delicate earrings, her eyes wide with admiration as she tried them on in the small mirror by the counter. A laugh slipped from her lips as she gossiped with the counter girl.

In that moment, Hunter's sigh turned into a soft chuckle. The boredom he had felt only moments before melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest. Seeing Beka so happy, so genuinely thrilled by something as simple as a shopping trip, made it all worth it.

Hunter walked over to where she stood, leaning casually against the counter as he watched her. "Those look perfect on you," he said, his voice low and affectionate.

Beka turned to him, still beaming. "You think so?" she asked, the excitement clear in her voice.

Hunter nodded, his smile mirroring hers. "I do," he replied.

"I'm going to max you dry," Beka whispered with a teasing smirk.

Hunter sighed as he pulled out his wallet and handed the counter girl a few green bills.

"Would you like me to bag those?" The counter girl asked.

"No thank you, I think I'll wear them," Beka said politely. Beka walked out of the shop with Hunter trailing behind.

They entered various shops and boutiques, each one Beka found something. As their day unfolded, Beka and Hunter ventured into a quaint bookstore, its wooden shelves lined with well-worn volumes. The air inside was thick with the scent of aged paper, a comforting aroma that made Beka's eyes light up.

"Welcome." The shop owner greeted them.

"This place is like a treasure trove," Beka murmured, her voice filled with awe as she ran her fingers over the spines of the books. She pulled a dusty copy of a classic novel from the shelf, flipping through its yellowed pages. "I've always wanted to read this one."

Hunter chuckled softly, watching her as she immersed herself in the rows of books. "Then get it," he encouraged, his voice warm. "Get whatever you want."

Beka smiled at him, her excitement visible as she added the book to her growing stack. "I think I will," she replied, glancing back at the shelves for more hidden gems.

After the bookstore, they made their way into a cozy music shop, the sound of a piano playing softly in the background. Beka's eyes sparkled as she admired the instruments, her hand lightly brushing over the keys of a grand piano.

"This place is wonderful," Beka said, her voice filled with wonder as she examined the vinyl records. She picked up a few, carefully reading the track lists. "I've always wanted to expand the collection."

Hunter nodded, leaning casually against the counter. "Looks like today's your day," he said with a grin. "You've earned it."

As Beka browsed the guitars, she noticed a musician sitting on a stool, casually strumming a soulful tune. She paused, captivated by the melody, and without hesitation, began to sing along.

Her voice filled the shop, clear and melodic, perfectly matching the rhythm of the guitar. The shop seemed to fall silent, the music and her voice creating a moment that felt almost magical.

"You have a talent my dear." The guitarist smiled.

Hunter's heart swelled as he watched her, unable to suppress the smile that spread across his face. "That she does," he said softly when she finished, his words meant only for her.

Beka blushed, giving him a shy smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear with hand feeling a warmth spread through her at his compliment.

Their next stop was a nearby pet store, where the bell above the door chimed softly as they entered. The shop was filled with the sounds of chirping birds and the rustle of small animals in their enclosures.

Beka wandered over to the section where they sold pet collars and toys, her eyes scanning the options until they landed on a beautiful green collar. "This will be perfect for Sprig," she said with a smile, picking it up and holding it out for Hunter to see.

He nodded, a fond expression on his face. "He'll love it," Hunter agreed.

Beka smiled.

They also grabbed a couple of bones for the dogs so they wouldn't feel left out.

As they continued browsing, Beka couldn't resist picking out small gifts for everyone. She found a sleek, black leather-bound journal for Tech and held it up for Hunter to see. "This will be perfect for his notes," she said, smiling. "For Wrecker, I'm thinking something sweet," Beka mused as they passed by a nearby confectionery. She quickly selected a box of assorted candies. "He'll love these," she added with a grin.

Hunter chuckled. "He'll finish those in one sitting," he said, shaking his head but smiling all the same.

Beka spotted a bottle of aftershave in the window of another shop. Thinking of Echo, she picked it up, her fingers brushing over the smooth glass surface. "Echo will appreciate this," she said thoughtfully. As they passed by a display of finely crafted silver cufflinks, Beka paused, thinking of Crosshair. "What do you think of these for Crosshair?" she asked, holding them up for Hunter's opinion.

Hunter looked puzzled, "You want to get him something?"

"Well, I did punch his face a few good times. Consider it a way for me to apologize." Beka said sheepishly.

"You certainly did." Hunter laughed.

Beka gave him an annoyed look, Hunter only kissed her forehead.

As Beka continued her thoughtful shopping, she kept an eye out for something special for Phee and Omega. Their unique personalities and interests were always on her mind, and she wanted to find the perfect gifts for them as well. In a small corner of jewelry shop, Beka found a beautifully crafted bracelet, its cover adorned with intricate patterns of gold and deep purple. She immediately thought of Phee.

"This would be perfect for Phee," Beka said to Hunter, holding up the bracelet for him to see.

Hunter nodded in agreement. "She'll love it."

With Phee's gift in hand, Beka turned her attention to finding something for Omega. She wanted to get something that would capture Omega's curiosity and playful nature. As they passed by a toy shop, Beka's eyes were drawn to a stuff rabbit, designed like a doll.

"This is perfect for Omega," Beka said with a smile, picking up the stuff animal. "So, when she's scared, she can feel safe."

Hunter smiled as he watched Beka examine the toy. "You spoil her too much," he remarked, his tone affectionate.

Beka laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "I know."

Satisfied with her selections, Beka carried her items to the counter, her heart light with the joy of finding something special for each of them.

As they stepped back out into the late afternoon sun, their bags filled with treasures, Hunter reached for Beka's hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. "You always know exactly what to get everyone," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Beka looked up at him, her smile soft and genuine. "I just want them to know I'm thinking of them," she replied, squeezing his hand gently.

Hunter's gaze softened as he looked at her, the sound of her earlier song still lingering in his mind. "They'll know," he said quietly. "And they'll appreciate it. Just like I appreciate you."

Beka smiled up at him, her heart full as they continued down the cobblestone streets. As they strolled through the bustling town, Beka suddenly paused, her eyes catching sight of a small shop tucked away on a quiet side street. The shop's window displayed an array of finely crafted leather goods—wallets, belts, and even a few sleek, practical items that immediately sparked an idea in her mind.

She glanced up at Hunter, her expression playful. "Hunter could I... maybe borrow some money?" she asked, her tone light and innocent, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Hunter raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What are you up to?" he asked, though he was already reaching into his pocket.

Beka smiled sweetly, not giving anything away. "Oh, just something small," she said, trying to sound casual. "But you're not allowed to see what it is until we get back."

Hunter handed her a few bills, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Alright, but I'm curious now," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You're not making this easy for me, you know."

Beka took the money with a grateful smile. "Patience, Hunter," she teased giving him a seductive look. She him a quick peck on the cheek before slipping into the shop.

Hunter watched as she disappeared inside, his curiosity piqued. He leaned against a lamppost outside, smiling to himself as he imagined what she might be up to. He knew Beka well enough to know that whatever she had in mind, it was sure to be something thoughtful.

A few minutes later, Beka emerged from the shop, a small, neatly wrapped package in hand. She tucked it carefully into her bag, her expression one of pure satisfaction.

"Alright, all set," she said cheerfully, rejoining Hunter.

He glanced at her bag, then back at her, his smile widening. "You really won't tell me what it is?"

Beka shook her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nope. You'll just have to wait," she replied, slipping her arm through his as they continued walking.

Hunter chuckled, enjoying the playful banter between them. "You're a sneaky one, Rebekath Hardt," he said, though his tone was filled with warmth.

Beka just grinned, giving his arm a squeeze. "You'll see soon enough," she promised, her heart fluttering with anticipation for when she could finally reveal her little surprise.

And in that moment, he knew that seeing her this happy was worth every second, even if it meant enduring a few more shopping trips in the future.

When they returned to the mansion, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple. Beka and Hunter stepped inside, the warmth of the house a welcome contrast to the cool evening air.

Beka called out, "We're back!" Her voice carried through the grand hallways, and it wasn't long before the pitter-patter of small feet echoed in return.

Omega appeared first, bounding toward Beka with a wide grin. "You're home! Did you have fun? What did you get?" she asked, her excitement palpable as she reached for the bags.

Beka chuckled, holding the bags just out of reach. "You'll have to wait and see later after dinner," she teased, her tone playful.

Omega's face fell into a pout, her shoulders sagging in exaggerated disappointment. "Okay," she sighed, though a mischievous glint still lingered in her eyes.

Hunter smirked, watching the interaction with amusement as the servants arrived to take the bags from their arms. "You'll survive, kid," he said to Omega, ruffling her hair gently.

The servants came in and took the bags from Hunter and Beka's arms and escorted them to the dining area. The room was filled with the savory aroma of dinner as the staff prepared their evening meal. As they entered, the rich scents of roasted meats and seasoned vegetables filled the air, making Beka's stomach rumble in anticipation. The large dining table was set, its surface gleaming with polished silverware and fine China, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over the room.

Hunter pulled out a chair for Beka, his hand lingering on the backrest as she settled in beside him. He then took his own seat, the two of them exchanging a knowing glance that spoke volumes of the day they had shared. The rest of the family gradually joined them, filling the seats around the table with a sense of ease and camaraderie that hadn't been present in what felt like ages.

Wrecker was the first to break the silence, digging into his plate with enthusiasm. "So, what did you two get up to in town?" he asked between bites, his curiosity piqued. Phee gave him a slap on the arm doe him to maintain some manners.

Beka smiled, taking a sip of her wine before answering. "We did a little shopping," she said, her eyes darting to Hunter with a secretive smile. "Found a few things I like."

As they continued to eat, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by moments of soft laughter and the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. There was a warmth in the room, a shared sense of contentment that wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

Crosshair, who had been quietly observing from his seat, finally spoke up. "You went all the way to Corellia just to shop?" he asked, his tone tinged with mild skepticism.

Beka turned to him with a playful grin. "What did you think we were off doing? Something more exciting?" she teased.

Hunter leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sometimes, Crosshair, it's the simple things that make the day," he said, his gaze flickering to Beka, who smiled back at him.

"Whatever." Crosshair groaned in annoyance rolling his eyes.

The dinner continued, the atmosphere light and relaxed. Once the plates were cleared and the last of the wine was poured, Hunter stood, holding out his hand to Beka. Everyone migrated to the living room. The fireplace crackled, casting a warm glow across the room. Beka noticed Crosshair lingering near the doorway, his usual solitary demeanor in full effect as he prepared to leave the room.

But before he could slip away, Hunter reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. "Not so fast," Hunter said with a smirk. "You're not going anywhere just yet."

Crosshair shot him a look that was a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "What do you want, Hunter?" he asked, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice.

Beka smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out the small gifts she had carefully chosen for everyone. She handed them out one by one, each wrapped in simple paper, her eyes lighting up as she watched her family members' reactions.

"You got us stuff?" Tech asked puzzled as he adjusted his glasses to look at the wrapped gift.

Beka nodded, "Yes."

Tech unwrapped the paper and eyes lit up as he took the sleek, black leather-bound journal in his hands, already flipping through the pages. "Thank you, Beka," he said, his tone genuinely appreciative.

Next, she handed Wrecker the box of assorted candies. His face broke into a wide grin as he eagerly accepted it. "You know me pretty well to know these are my favorite!" he exclaimed, already tearing into the box. "Thanks, Beka!"

Echo was next, and Beka presented him with the aftershave. His expression softened as he ran his fingers over the intricately designed wood. "My favorite brand. Thank you Beka, I really appreciate it," he said, his voice carrying a note of gratitude.

Then, with a small smile, Beka turned to Crosshair. She pulled out a small black box and handed it to him. "I know it's not much, but... consider it a peace offering," she said, her tone sincere.

Crosshair eyed the box before taking it from Beka's hand. He opened it, his eyes grew wide as he looked at the finely crafted silver cufflinks. He didn't say much, but there was a subtle nod of acknowledgment, and in his own way, that was enough for Beka.

Finally, she handed Phee the intricately designed bracelet and Omega the stuffed rabbit. "For Phee," Beka said, watching her friend's eyes light up as she admired the bracelet. "And for Omega, something to keep you company when you're feeling scared."

Omega's eyes widened as she hugged the rabbit close. "Thank you, Beka! I love it!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement, "I'm going to name you Lula."

Beka got on her knees and pulled out the new collar for Sprig, which had a little golden bell on it. She gently clipped the collar around his neck. At first, Sprig tried to bite and pull at the bell rolling around in the process.

Beka let out a little chuckle, but eventually, Sprig gave up accepting the new collar, "You look dashing." Beka smiled picking Sprig up and kissing the little kitten on his head. She set him down then looked at the beady-eyed pups, "Don't worry didn't forget about you." She reached into the bag and pulled out two bones. This caused the dogs to wag their tails and pant with excitement.

As everyone admired their gifts, Beka felt a warmth spread through her chest. This was what she had wanted—to bring a little bit of happiness to each of them.

Hunter, who had been watching the whole exchange, finally spoke up. "You really do think of everyone, don't you?" he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Beka smiled at him, a twinkle in her eye. "I try," she said, reaching into her bag for one last item—the gift she had secretly bought for him. "But I couldn't let the day end without giving you this."

She handed him the small, neatly wrapped package, her heart racing just a little as she watched him unwrap it. Inside was a finely crafted leather wallet, embossed with a subtle design that reflected Hunter's rugged style.

Hunter looked at the wallet, then back at Beka, his expression softening. "You didn't have to," he began, but Beka shook her head, cutting him off.

"I wanted to," she said softly. "This is a thanks for giving me what I needed."

Hunter smiled, his gaze warm and genuine. He drew Beka into a gentle embrace, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. "Thank you, darling," he said, holding her close. "I have something to show you."

He took her hand and led her to a room she'd never been in before. When the light flickered on, Beka's eyes widened in awe. The walls were adorned with the news clippings, her portrait, and an array of rewards and medals she had earned during her time as a cop. Each piece of memorabilia was carefully arranged.

Hunter stood beside the display, a proud smile on his face as he watched her reaction. "Echo and Tech gathered these for me," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I wanted to hang them up to show all your accomplishments. You've done so much, and I thought it was time everyone saw just how incredible you are."

Beka looked at Hunter, her voice soft with appreciation and teasing. "It's a bit stalkerish."

"Not at all," Hunter chuckled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "Just a way to remind you how much you're valued."

As the evening wound down, Hunter stood with Beka outside in the garden under the moonlight and warm lanterns. He looked at her as she looked up into the stars. Hunter wrapped his arm around her and Beka leaned into his body and just closed her eyes and smiled.

Chapter summary: Beka proves herself to the family

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, and smoking

Word count: 6000

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 16

Beka and Hunter found themselves alone in the dimly lit study. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, and Hunter's face was clouded with a seriousness that made Beka uneasy. She could sense that whatever he was about to say, it wasn't going to be easy to hear.

Hunter stood by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames as if searching for the right words in the dance of the firelight. Finally, he turned to her, his expression grave. "Darling, there's something you need to know about the fire that night, the one when you were performing."

Beka frowned, the memory of that terrifying night flashing through her mind. "What about it?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Hunter took a deep breath, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on him. "We know it wasn't an accident," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Whoever started it had to be close to you—someone who knew exactly where you'd be on stage and timed it perfectly. Does anyone come to mind?"

Beka's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in shock. "I told Phee, I've made too many enemies during my time in the force. Just check the records at the Republic Central Judiciary Detention Center in Coruscant."

Hunter moved closer, his gaze intense as he locked onto hers, his voice steady but laced with quiet urgency. "There's one thing that keeps coming up—I don't think they're targeting us. I think they're just targeting you."

The realization hit Beka like a punch to the gut. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

Hunter's eyes softened, a flicker of regret passing over his face. "I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to bear that burden, not with everything else going on. But I can't keep it from you anymore. You need to know what we're up against."

Beka's hands balled into fists, her mind racing as she tried to process the gravity of the situation. "I can protect myself."

Hunter sighed a determined glint in his eyes. "I'll find out who's responsible, darling. But until then, we have to be on guard. They won't stop until they've gotten what they want."

Beka swallowed hard, the fire's warmth doing little to chase away the chill that had settled in her bones. She knew Hunter was right, someone wanted her dead, no matter who gets in the way to make it happen.

The next morning, Hunter took Beka to their makeshift shooting range located in another section outside the property. It was outfitted with targets at various distances and a selection of firearms neatly arranged on a rack.

Beka followed him into the range, her demeanor calm but alert. She had been informed she would need to demonstrate her shooting skills, a task she approached with quiet confidence. Hunter motioned toward the rack of guns.

"Alright, darling. Show me what you've got." Hunter stated.

Beka nodded, stepping toward the rack. She selected a sleek, modern handgun, her movements precise and practiced. She checked the weapon with a professional efficiency that spoke of her background in law enforcement.

Hunter watched intently as Beka set up at the firing line. She took a deep breath, her posture steady. Her eyes focused on the target—a standard silhouette at twenty-five meters. She raised the gun with smooth, controlled motions, aligning her stance with the target.

"Just shoot the targets, right?" Beka asked with her weapon aimed out.

Hunter's gaze remained fixed on her. "Let's see how you handle it."

Beka exhaled slowly, her aim steady. The first shot rang out with a sharp crack, hitting the center of the target. She adjusted her stance slightly and fired again, each shot ringing true. Within a few seconds, all shots were clustered tightly in the center of the target, demonstrating her precision.

Hunter nodded appreciatively, crossing his arms. "Impressive. It's clear you've got the skills. You graduated at the top of your academy, didn't you?"

Beka lowered the gun and set it down with practiced ease. "Yes, I did. I've had extensive training and experience. It's not just about being able to handle a gun—it's about maintaining your composure under pressure."

Hunter's expression softened slightly. "I see that. It's good to know you can handle yourself effectively. That kind of skill is valuable in situations like these."

Beka shrugged. "Why are we doing this?"

Hunter gave her a thoughtful look. "To see how capable, you are. That might help smooth things over a bit. Just remember, it's not just about skill."

Beka met his gaze steadily. "I see."

Hunter nodded a hint of approval in his eyes. "Good. We'll need everyone on the same page if we're going to get through this."

As they left the shooting range, Hunter and Beka both had a clearer understanding of each other's capabilities. The demonstration had served its purpose, bridging the gap between them with a measure of mutual respect and a better appreciation of the skills Beka brought to the table.

A few days had passed since Beka's demonstration at the shooting range. Though she had resumed her activities, the presence of Wrecker as her constant shadow had become a normal, if unwelcome, part of her life. Despite her integration into the family over the months, Crosshair's lingering distrust meant that Wrecker was to remain assigned to follow her everywhere, a task he had dutifully performed without complaint.

Echo furrowed his brow, confusion etched across his face as he confronted Hunter. "I don't get it. Beka just found out someone's out there gunning for her, and now you want her out in the field? It doesn't make sense, Hunter."

Hunter took a deep breath, his expression a mix of determination and concern. "I know it sounds counterintuitive, but Beka's not the type to sit around and wait for danger to come to her. She's resourceful, sharp, and experienced—keeping her cooped up isn't going to help. If she's out in the field, she's in her element, and we can control the environment. We'll be right there with her, watching her back every step of the way."

Echo still looked uncertain, but Hunter pressed on, his voice steady and resolute. "I don't really want her out there, but I know how determined she is. If we try to keep her sidelined, she'll just try to tackle this on her own. She can handle herself, and she's safer with us around than if she were waiting as a sitting target. But make no mistake, I'm not taking any chances with her safety. We'll have eyes on her at all times, and we'll make sure she knows she's not facing this alone."

Echo nodded slowly, beginning to understand Hunter's reasoning. "So it's about letting her fight back, on her terms?"

"Exactly," Hunter replied. He looked up from his papers, his expression pensive. "It's not about letting her out just yet. We're still assessing her right now, we're in a very tight bind here."

Tech, who was nearby tinkering with some equipment, spoke up. "It's clear Beka has skills and can handle herself. But we have to be cautious. Trust doesn't come easy in our line of work."

Phee, who had been listening intently, finally chimed in. "I agree with Tech. But I've seen something important since Beka arrived. She's been a motherly figure to Omega. Omega needs stability and care, especially given the circumstances."

Echo raised an eyebrow. "So, you think Beka's role with Omega might influence the decision?"

Phee nodded. "Yes, she's provided a level of emotional support and guidance that Omega needs. It's not just about her skills or past. She's shown she can offer something valuable to our family beyond just the job."

Hunter leaned back in his chair, considering Phee's input. "That's why she is going to be a part of this operation. Omega's well-being is important."

Crosshair, still standing by the door, remained silent. His disapproval was clear, but the conversation had planted seeds of doubt and reconsideration. "You really want me to work with her? Would she even agree to go on an operation at all?"

"It's just a deal agreement to get drugs off our streets, Beka will agree to that. They're dealing to school kids Crosshair, Omega's schoolmates." Tech pointed out, "This way Beka can understand what we do."

"What if she's spotted and recognized?" Crosshair pointed out as he pulled his toothpick out of his mouth pointing it at Tech.

"He has a point, and that Detective Mori still searching for her." Echo pointed out.

"What's going on in that department?" Hunter asked as he rested his elbow on his desk.

"So far nothing, Mori has been just reinterviewing people," Tech explained.

Hunter glanced between his family. "Beka was a former detective, she could find the high-profile suspects with just the smallest amount of evidence. Everyone's input is valuable here."

Each morning, Beka found herself staring at her hands, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She could still feel the tension in her muscles. As the days passed, the injuries began to heal, but the ritual of examining her hands became a daily routine. Each time she looked at them, she was reminded of what she was capable of.

Tech, ever the medic, noticed her quiet introspection. Without a word, he would sit beside her each day, his hands gentle and precise as he unwrapped the old bandages, cleaned the wounds, and applied fresh ones. His touch was steady, his focus unwavering, as he worked to ensure that her hands would heal properly.

"There," he would say softly, finishing the task with a nod of satisfaction. "You'll be back to normal in no time."

Beka would offer him a small smile, grateful for his help. With each day, the pain lessened, the wounds closed, and soon, all that remained were faint marks. And as Tech finished bandaging her hands one final time, she knew that the scars might fade over time.

With much contemplation over those next few days, Hunter called the family in for another meeting. The dimly lit room was filled with a tense silence as Hunter stood at the head of the table, his expression resolute. The family had gathered around, their faces reflecting varying degrees of skepticism. Hunter had just announced his decision, and the atmosphere was thick with apprehension.

Crosshair leaned against the wall, arms folded tightly over his chest. "So, you're really going to send me out with Hardt?" His tone was laced with disbelief and irritation.

Hunter nodded firmly. "Yes. Beka's been with us for months now. I've seen what she's capable of weapon and wit-wise. We need to get these drugs off the streets Crosshair, if not for the other kids, think about Omega."

Wrecker's frown deepened. "You really think this is a good idea? What if something goes wrong?"

Hunter's gaze was steady. "We're stretched thin, and I need to manage the tension within the family. Beka's presence is a reality we have to deal with. Crosshair and Beka are the best candidates to oversee this operation."

Echo raised an eyebrow. "You're putting Crosshair in a tough spot. He's not exactly the most patient with newcomers."

Crosshair's lips tightened around his toothpick. "I don't see why I should have to babysit her. If this is some kind of test, it's a bad idea."

Hunter's voice hardened slightly. "Crosshair, you need to accept that Beka is here. We've got to make it work. If you can't see that, you're going to have to figure it out. We need everyone pulling their weight, and that includes you dealing with Beka's role here."

Tech adjusted his glasses, his voice cautious. "And if this goes badly? What's the fallback plan?"

Hunter sighed, knowing the risk. "We'll handle it if it goes sideways. But Beka needs to see what we do, and we need to see how well she is capable in high-stress situations. This is as much about managing our internal issues as it is about the deal."

The room fell into an uneasy silence as the family exchanged uncertain glances. Hunter's decision was final, and the family had to accept it. Hunter sat in his study alone that night, the heavy drapes drawn back to reveal the fading light. He was deep in thought, his fingers absently drumming against the polished wood of his desk. Papers and files were strewn before him, the remnants of his latest operation plans.

He looked up as the door creaked open, and Beka stepped inside, her presence immediately softening the tension in the room. She noticed the furrow in his brow and the way his usually sharp eyes seemed clouded with contemplation.

"Hunter, you wanted to see me?" she asked, her voice gentle as she approached him.

Hunter leaned back in his chair, his gaze locking with hers. "Yes, darling. I've been thinking... and I need to ask something of you. Something important."

Beka felt a ripple of unease, but she nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. "I don't like where this is going."

Hunter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's an operation coming up—a treaty that could put a significant dent in the drug trade in the area. It's a delicate situation, and it requires someone with a keen eye, someone who can read the situation from the inside."

Beka tilted her head slightly, curiosity piqued. "You're sending Crosshair, I assume?" she asked, knowing how much Hunter relied on Crosshair's expertise in such operations.

"I am," Hunter confirmed, his voice steady. "But I want you to go with him."

Beka blinked, taken aback. "Me? Why? Crosshair's more than capable of handling this on his own. On top of that, I know he doesn't want me 'in the way.'" Beka quoted.

Hunter's expression softened, but his eyes remained serious. "I know he is. But this operation is different. The people we're dealing with... they're dangerous, slippery. They know how to hide in plain sight, how to cover their tracks. And there's a lot more at stake here than just the treaty itself." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Darling, you have the experience that Crosshair doesn't. Your time as a detective—it's given you a perspective that could be invaluable in this operation. You know how to get into people's heads, how to see the things that others miss. That's what we need on this mission."

Beka frowned, her mind racing as she considered his words. "And Crosshair?" she asked her voice carefully measured. "How does he feel about this?"

Hunter smiled slightly, knowing her concern. "Crosshair's not thrilled about the idea of anyone tagging along, especially not you. But he trusts my judgment. And he knows how good you are, even if he won't admit it."

Beka couldn't help but smirk at that. But as she thought more about the mission, her smile faded, replaced by a seriousness that mirrored Hunter's. "This isn't just about the treaty, is it?" she asked quietly. "There's something else you're not telling me."

Hunter's eyes met hers, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something deeper—something he was trying to protect her from. But he knew better than to keep secrets from her. "No, it's not just about the treaty," he admitted. "There's intel suggesting that there is a higher source for drugs being disrupted. We need to figure out where it is and who is in charge, and we need to do it fast. That's why I need you out there, darling. I trust you to see what others can't. The drugs are being disrupted to children, Omega's peers."

Beka felt a cold chill run down her spine. The weight of what he was asking settled heavily on her shoulders. She took a deep breath, meeting Hunter's gaze with determination. "Alright, I'll do it. But you better make sure Crosshair knows I'm not just there to be a tagalong."

Hunter's lips curved into a small smile, a mix of pride and relief in his eyes. "He'll know, trust me. Just... be careful out there. I don't want anything to happen to him or you."

Beka nodded. As she left the study, her mind was already racing with plans and strategies, her old instincts kicking in. She was stepping back into a world she thought she'd left behind, and she knew there would be no easy way out.

Beka stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of the new outfit laid out on the bed. It was nothing like the elegant dresses she had grown accustomed to wearing in the mansion. Instead, it was something entirely different—something that pulled her back into a past she hadn't expected to revisit.

The tailored dark brown trousers, the crisp white shirt, and the dark form-fitting navy-blue blazer—it all felt like a reflection of her former life. The ensemble was practically identical to the one she had worn during her days as a detective, the one that had become almost like a second skin to her back then. There was even a sturdy pair of brown boots, polished and ready for action.

She picked up the blazer and slid it on, the weight of the fabric grounding her in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. It felt strange yet right at the same time as if she were slipping back into a role she was born to play. The gloves Hunter had given her that day now seemed to complete the look, and she pulled them on, the soft leather molding to her hands with an almost perfect fit.

As she was adjusting her collar, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Tech standing in the doorway, holding something small in his hand.

"Pardon me, but I have something for you." Tech said entered the room. He stepped forward and handed her a sleek black mask, its design simple yet effective. Beka took it, turning it over in her hands, confusion evident in her eyes.

"A mask?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's this for?" Beka asked.

Tech adjusted his glasses, his expression serious. "To conceal your identity. You're still considered a missing person, Beka. If anyone recognizes you, it could compromise the operation. This will help keep you under the radar."

Beka nodded slowly as Tech turned to leave, the reality of her situation settling in once more. She had been hidden away for so long that she sometimes forgot how much the outside world still thought she had disappeared.

The mask was just a simple black mask. She held it over her eyes, she breathed out heavily. For a brief moment, a flashback of her as Miss Ribbon Singer stood before her. Beka sighed pulling the mask down, it was like both her past lives were trying to come back, and not in a good way. With the mask in hand, she gave herself one last look in the mirror before turning to leave.

As she made her way downstairs, the sound of her boots echoed in the grand hallway. Crosshair was already waiting by the front door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a toothpick in his usual scowl in place. He gave her a once-over, his expression unreadable, but Beka could tell he approved of her transformation.

Just as she reached the door, Hunter appeared from the top of the stairs. He walked toward her, his gaze softening as he took in her new look. There was pride in his eyes, but also a hint of worry that he couldn't quite hide.

"Darling," Hunter began, his voice low and filled with emotion. He stepped closer, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. "Please, be careful out there."

Beka looked up at him, her heart swelling at the concern in his voice. She placed her gloved hand over his, squeezing it gently. "I'll try."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, their connection unspoken but deeply felt. Hunter's hand slipped from her shoulder to her waist, pulling her closer in a protective embrace. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the moment.

"I'll be waiting for you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Beka chuckled at Hunter's sentiment. "I'll be back before you know it," she whispered back with a little teasing in her voice.

From behind them, Crosshair let out an exaggerated groan. "Can we get going now, or are you two planning to say goodbye all day?"

Beka laughed softly, pulling back from Hunter with a teasing smile. "Patience, Crosshair," she quipped, though her tone was fond.

Hunter released her reluctantly, his hand trailing down her arm before letting go completely. He gave Crosshair a look that was both stern and trusting. "Keep her safe," he ordered, his voice carrying an unspoken threat that only a brother could give.

Crosshair rolled his eyes but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go, Hardt."

Beka shot Hunter one last reassuring smile before following Crosshair out the door. As they stepped into the black sedan car, the city's neon lights barely pierced through the smog as Beka and Crosshair navigated the labyrinthine streets. Beka stared out the window, lost in thought. The truth was, she was still very much in the grasp of Hunter's crime family, and her role in this particular test was both precarious and revealing.

As they approached an old, decrepit warehouse, Crosshair glanced at Beka with a cold, assessing stare. "Keep your distance and don't even think about making a run for it."

Beka met his gaze with a silent, fiery intensity. "I'm just here to be eyes and ears," she said, her tone clipped.

Crosshair smirked slightly but said nothing more. He stepped out of the car. Before Beka could open her side door, Crosshair locked the doors behind him with a decisive click. "Hey!" Beka's frustration boiled over as she banged on the window. Crosshair gave a devilish smirk, and he was already heading toward the entrance of the warehouse, his back turned, "You son of a bitch!" Beka tugged at the handle.

As Crosshair entered the warehouse, he saw who he was meeting, Ciddarian Scaleback, or Cid as she prefers, and Bib Fortuna, Jabba the Hutt's right-hand man.

"You're late," Cid said annoyed.

"Sorry, there were... distractions," Crosshair said placing a toothpick in his mouth.

"Shall we begin the treaty?" Bib asked.

Outside, Beka leaned her head against the window. She looked outside looking over the surrounding objects. Her eyes then fixated on a particular set of crates, more specifically the type of wood the crates were made from. She thought over in her head where has she seen that type of wood before.

As she was going over places, the sound of gunfire and shouts erupted from inside. Panic surged through Beka as she realized the situation had turned rogue. Determined to act, she turned her boots at the window, and with a hard and quick kick, she broke the car window. She climbed out, her nerves steeled by her old training leaving the mask behind.

Inside the warehouse, chaos reigned. Crosshair though injured and taking cover behind some crates. Beka spotted him and rushed to his side, her eyes scanning the area for threats. She saw his side bleeding, so she pulled off her blazer and placed it on the wound.

"Keep pressure on it," Beka ordered, as she crouched beside him.

He grimaced but nodded. "I'm fine. Just keep your head down."

Beka grabbed his gun and took cover beside him. "We need to get out of here. Can you move?"

"Barely." Crosshair winced. Beka looked for a way out while she wasn't looking someone tried to sneak up beside them. "On your left!"

Beka turned her head and practiced aim and quick reflexes she shot the perp in one shot. "Thanks." She said panting. Another round of gunfire interrupted her, "I'm going to need you to stand, use me as support and we run." Beka explained as she continued firing at perps.

Crosshair only nodded. As he forced himself to their feet, Beka placed his arm over her shoulder for support. The two started running towards the exit as Beka considered firing. They reached the car, Beka grabbed the car keys from Crosshair's pocket. "No, you're not driving!" Crosshair said angrily.

"You're in no condition to drive, get your ass in the car!" Beka ordered. Crosshair only winced in pain as Beka helped him slide in the passenger side. She climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Crosshair, wincing from his injuries as now Beka's blazer stained red, looked at Beka with a mix of surprise and respect. "I didn't think you had it in you."

Beka kept her eyes on the road, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I guess you don't know me as well as you thought."

As the car sped away from the warehouse, gunshots rang out to the car hitting it in multiple places. The streets blurred by as they made their escape. The car barreled down the rain-slicked street, the engine roaring as Beka fought to keep control. Crosshair, injured and wincing in the passenger seat, gripped the armrest with white knuckles.

Suddenly, a gate loomed ahead. Beka tried to hit the brakes, but the car started to swerve. "Why aren't you slowing the hell down?" Crosshair demanded.

"They shot one of the tires, we're riding on the rim!" Beka said trying to keep the car under control. With no time to slow down, Beka plowed through it, metal scraping against the sides of the car as she forced her way through. The gate collapsed behind them, leaving a trail of twisted metal and debris.

Crosshair's voice cut through the noise, sharp and furious. "Where the hell did you learn to drive like that?"

Beka's eyes were focused on the road ahead, her voice tight with stress. "When you're getting shot at that means you're going to have a little property damage. Deal with it."

Crosshair's scowl deepened, but he didn't have time to argue further. Everyone rushed out, alerted by the commotion. They quickly assessed the situation, seeing the car covered in bullet holes with a broken gate on top was the first thing. They then saw Crosshair and immediately pulled him out as Hunter helped Beka out.

Wrecker was the first to ask, his face a mix of concern. "Crosshair, are you alright? What happened?"

Crosshair gritted his teeth and gestured weakly toward Beka. "Deal went wrong, and she crashed through the gate."

Servants rushed out with a makeshift gurney, they placed Crosshair gently on it as they transported him inside.

"Call Jesse!" Tech ordered as he followed the servants inside.

"Yes sir." One of the servants said.

Beka stood by the car, her face expressionless. She didn't offer any excuses or explanations, simply allowing the gravity of the situation to settle over her.

Echo glanced at Beka, his tone gentle but probing. "Beka, do you want to explain what the hell just happened?"

Beka shook her head, her voice quiet but resolute. "No. Crosshair's hurt and that's what matters right now."

The others exchanged glances, their concern shifting between Crosshair and Beka. The urgency of tending to Crosshair's wounds took precedence, but the tensions were unspoken words.

In the mansion, the usual hum of activity was muted. Everyone gathered in the living room, their faces lined with worry. Crosshair lay on a makeshift surgical table, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Jesse had arrived swiftly, his expression focused and grim as he prepared for the delicate surgery. Tech was at his side, assisting with the precision and care that had become his hallmark.

Hunter stood near the doorway, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze locked on Crosshair. He looked down before making his way back to the living room. He saw Wrecker paced the length of the room, while Echo sat quietly, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his prosthetic leg. Omega, sitting on the couch, glanced around anxiously.

The room was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the soft clinks of medical instruments and the occasional murmur of Jesse's voice as he directed Tech. Each of them waiting, hoping, and fearing the worst.

In the midst of this silent vigil, Beka was elsewhere in the mansion. She had retreated to the music room. A was a place of comfort for her, where the notes of the piano and the melodies of the violin offered a brief escape from the harsh realities of their world.

Beka sat at the piano, her fingers hovering over the keys. She couldn't bring herself to play. Her thoughts were too scattered everywhere. She knew that the best thing she could do was to give them space. She had spent years in the line of duty, witnessing surgeries, injuries, and all manner of trauma, but it never got easier.

As the minutes ticked by on the overhead clock, Beka closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The thought of surgery in the next rooms over seemed to echo in her mind, and she found herself whispering a silent prayer, hoping that Crosshair would make it through.

Back in the living room, the tension continued to mount. Jesse's movements were quick and efficient, Tech mirroring his actions as they worked in tandem. Each of the family members found their own way to cope—Hunter clenched his fists while thinking to himself, Wrecker's restless pacing, Echo's silent contemplation, Phee comforting Omega as she gave worried glances.

After what felt like an eternity, Jesse finally straightened up, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief as he pulled the bullet out of Crosshair's side. He looked at Tech, who gave a slight nod in agreement. The two began stitching him back up.

"It's done," Jesse walked into the living room and announced, his voice breaking the silence that had enveloped the room. "He's stable, but he'll need time to recover." Jesse wiped his hands with a white cloth stained with Crosshair's blood.

A collective sigh of relief washed over the group, though the worry didn't completely dissipate. Hunter stepped forward, his eyes meeting Jesse's. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and a touch of lingering concern.

As the others moved to where Crosshair was, his journey to the road of recovery had just begun, and Hunter's thoughts drifted to Beka. He knew where she would be, and he quietly slipped away from the group, making his way to the music room.

When Hunter entered, he found Beka sitting at the piano, her hands still poised over the keys, but no sound filling the room.

She looked up as he approached, her eyes reflecting the same worry he felt. "How is he?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with the concern.

"He's stable," Hunter replied, stepping closer to her. "Jesse did everything he could. Now, it's up to Crosshair."

Beka nodded, her gaze dropping to the piano keys. "I tried..." she trailed off, unsure of how to express the turmoil inside her.

Hunter reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "You got him out and you're both alive," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "That's enough."

Beka offered him a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Hunter knew she was still worried. He sat beside her and held her in his arms.

For the next few days, Crosshair has been on strict bed and couch rest. The brothers gathered in the mansion's dimly lit living room, Crosshair now propped up on a couch, his injuries being tended to by Tech and Echo. The air was thick with tension as others turned their focus to Beka, who stood near the doorway, her expression guarded.

"Comfortable?" Echo asked looking at his brother.

Crosshair only rolled his eyes in response.

Hunter's voice was steady but firm. "Beka, we need to know exactly what happened. Start from the beginning." He turned to look at Beka.

Beka took a deep breath, her eyes flickering to Crosshair before meeting Hunter's gaze. "Crosshair locked me in the car. I heard gunshots and the sounds of a fight from inside. I broke the window and ran inside."

Wrecker, still visibly agitated, crossed his arms. "And what did you see when you got inside?"

Beka's face remained impassive. "I saw Crosshair injured behind some crates. I grabbed his gun and fired at the perps that were attacking him."

Echo raised an eyebrow, a mix of concern and curiosity in his voice. "And you managed to get Crosshair to the car?"

Beka nodded. "Yes. I helped him out, got him into the car, and drove away while being shot at. It wasn't exactly a smooth ride, but I got us out of there."

Tech, examining Crosshair's bandages, looked up with a thoughtful expression. "And you didn't have any other options?"

Beka's frustration surfaced in her voice. "I was only thinking about getting us out there. The situation was chaotic."

"Anything else you can tell us?" Hunter asked concerned.

Beka's gaze was steady. "Everything happened so fast."

"She got me out Hunter, that's more than enough," Crosshair spoke up.

The room fell silent as they just realized Crosshair just defended Beka. Wrecker looked at Crosshair, whose eyes had softened slightly in acknowledgment of Beka's efforts. Tech and Echo exchanged glances, clearly assessing the situation and Beka's role in it.

Hunter's voice broke the silence, a note of reluctant approval in his tone. "Alright. You did what you had to do. We'll need to discuss this further, but for now, let's focus on staying low."

As the brothers returned their attention to Crosshair and the aftermath of the deal, Beka remained standing near the doorway for a split second, her expression a mixture of relief and resolve. Then disappeared from the room with Phee waiting for her. Beka leaned against the wall near the door hearing the rest of the conversation.

The room was still charged with tension as the brothers continued their focused attention on Crosshair. Hunter, after taking in Beka's account, turned to Crosshair, his expression expectant.

"Crosshair recount what happened that led up to the shootout," Hunter ordered arms crossed over his chest.

Crosshair shifted on the couch, clearly in discomfort from his injuries. He glanced at Beka, his irritation evident, then met Hunter's gaze with a begrudging expression. "Beka's account is accurate. I was injured, locked her in the car to keep her from escaping while I dealt with the situation." He started.

Hunter raised an eyebrow, his tone probing. "And?"

Crosshair let out a heavy sigh, clearly reluctant. "The deal went bad it was a setup. I was going over the paperwork when a shot rang out and hit a perp, then it exploded into chaos. I got nicked and took cover behind some crates that's when Beka found me."

Wrecker's eyes widened. "So, she really did save your ass?"

Crosshair grunted, a mix of annoyance and begrudging respect in his voice. "Yeah. Despite the mess she made of the car, she managed to get us out of there."

Echo looked where Beka once stood, then back at Crosshair. "And you didn't think she could handle herself?"

Crosshair's scowl deepened. "I didn't think she'd be able to handle the chaos, but she proved me wrong."

Hunter nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Alright, thanks for being honest."

Beka peeked her head inside. Crosshair shot Beka a sidelong glance, a small hint of respect in his eyes despite his gruff demeanor. Beka remained quiet, her expression a mix of relief and determination as she absorbed the acknowledgment.

Chapter summary: Seneca’s investigation now

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, gun violence, and smoking

Word count: 4816

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 17

The dimly lit interrogation room was filled with the scent of cigarette smoke and the hum of fluorescent lights. Seneca sat at a metal table, her sharp eyes focused on the man seated across from her. The man was disheveled, a mix of fear and defiance in his eyes. Seneca's demeanor was cold and unyielding as she leaned forward, her fingers steepled in front of him.

"Start from the beginning," Seneca demanded, her voice steady and authoritative. "Tell me what happened at the warehouse."

The man swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously around the room. "We were set up. The deal was supposed to go smoothly, but we were ambushed. Shots started firing, and chaos broke out. I barely managed to get out of there."

Seneca's eyes narrowed. "Oh, boohoo. And where did you see the ambushers? Were they connected to anyone we know?"

The man hesitated, his fear evident. "There was one person... I'm not sure if you'd know them. She was with that Marauder brother."

Seneca leaned in closer, her voice a low, menacing whisper. "Marauder brother, the Bad Batch? Describe the girl for."

The man swallowed again, trying to remember. "She had dark hair, black hair, but she was... different. She looked like she didn't belong there, but looked like she knew what she was doing. I saw her moving through the chaos, pulling that Marauder brother out. She didn't seem like one of us."

Seneca's expression remained impassive, but her mind raced. "Did you get a good look at her face? Any distinctive features?"

The man shook his head. "Not really. It was hard to see clearly with all the commotion, but she looked like that person you've been searching for."

Seneca straightened, her thoughts churning. "Did anyone else see this person? Was there any other description or detail you can provide?"

The man hesitated, his face a mask of uncertainty. "I think some of the others might have seen her too. They might be able to give you more information."

Seneca nodded curtly. "Get the others in here. I want every detail about this person. If she's connected to the warehouse attack, we need to know who she is and what her connection is."

As the man was led away, Seneca remained seated, deep in thought. The mention of someone who resembled Beka—despite the lack of clear identification—was unsettling.

Minutes later, Seneca was joined by several other individuals from the warehouse. She began questioning them in earnest, seeking any additional information that could clarify the identity of the person who had caused such disruption. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, but the connection to Beka remained an enigmatic thread that Seneca was determined to unravel.

As she continued the interrogation, Seneca's mind kept returning to Beka and her potential involvement. The urgency of finding answers and uncovering the truth drove her forward, knowing that each piece of information could be pivotal in understanding the true extent of the threat they faced. Seneca paced the length of his office, the dim light casting sharp shadows against the walls. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the mention of someone who resembled Beka during the warehouse attack weighing heavily on her.

Seneca sat on the corner of her desk looking over the new evidence she collected after someone destroyed the old. Just as Seneca was rereading a statement that was documented, the new district attorney entered the precinct with the kind of confidence that came from a life of success and privilege. Her presence was immediately felt; she was tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored dress suit that hinted at both power and sophistication. Her pink hair was perfectly styled, and her gaze sharp, assessing the room with a quiet authority.

"Seneca? Seneca Mori?" The new DA asked peering into Seneca's office.

"Jazzori Dalear." Seneca smiled looking at her like an old friend, "You're a long way from Pantora, what brings you to Coruscant?"

"Have you not heard? Jazzori is our new district attorney." Explained in an upbeat voice. Both women looked at a young man as he leaned in the doorway.

"I see, Jazzori why don't you go with Officer Quinlan Vos and get a feel of the precinct," Seneca suggested as she gestured her hand towards the officer.

"Thank you, Seneca, I look forward to working with you." Jazzori gave a warm smile following Vos out.

"How do you know Detective Mori?" Vos asked confused.

"We used to date," Jazzori smirked as she walked past him. Vos's eyes widen looking between Seneca and the walking Jazzori. He quickly followed behind the attorney.

A light knock on the doorframe made Seneca look back up. Another detective stepped in, holding a file. "Seneca, I've managed to track down Beka's old manager. He's here for the meeting."

Seneca nodded, her expression taut. "Send him in Koon."

A moment later, the Finis entered, looking anxious but determined. He took a seat opposite Seneca, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Mr. Zapal," Seneca began, her tone sharp. "I need to know everything you can about Rebekath Hardt and Miss Ribbon Singer, and why you decided to reveal her as the same person."

Finis took a deep breath, clearly unsettled. "I already told you months ago why."

Seneca leaned forward. "The speculations that Miss Ribbon Singer and Rebekath Hardt are the same people. Can you reconfirm this?"

Finis's face went pale. "Yes, like I said before they are the same person. Beka was known as Miss Ribbon Singer when she was still performing. She was a rising star before everything changed."

Seneca's gaze sharpened. "Recount that day of the fire and Rebekath Hardt's disappearance."

Finis hesitated, his voice trembling. "There was a fire. It was a terrible accident. We all thought she was dead. The fire destroyed much of the venue and a lot of evidence."

Seneca's mind raced. "So, you're saying that the fire could have been a freak accident?"

Finis looked distressed. "I can't say for certain. Beka's disappearance was shrouded in mystery. My band and I had to move forward though, we still hold hope she'll come back to us."

Seneca's expression hardened. "If Rebekath is involved in our current issues, it's crucial we understand why and how. Her connection to the warehouse attack and her apparent role in recent events could have significant implications."

Finis nodded, his face filled with concern. "I understand. The bouncer there that night, have you interviewed them, Miss Hardt and they seemed very chummy together last I saw?"

"Valree Brights correct?" Seneca asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's them," Finis confirmed.

"I'll look into it. Thank you for your time, Mr. Zapal." Seneca said opening the door to her office.

"I wish you luck, detective." As Mr. Zapal left the office, Seneca's thoughts were consumed by the revelations. The link between Beka and Miss Ribbon Singer was more than she had anticipated, and it opened up a new array of questions. Seneca's fear that Beka was deeply entangled in a web of intrigue and danger only intensified.

The urgency to find out more about her role and how it related to the recent disruptions drove her to dig deeper, knowing that the answers could hold the key to resolving the current crisis and understanding the true nature of the threats they faced.

Each morning, as the sun rose over the city, Seneca's voice resonated through radios and news broadcasts, calling for any information on the whereabouts of Beka.

Beka, hidden behind the walls of the mansion, listened intently to the news every day. The urgency in Seneca's voice and the growing public interest only heightened her concern. She knew her former partner was digging deeper, and she feared that Seneca's pursuit could jeopardize everything.

One evening, fueled by a mixture of desperation and resolve, Beka decided she needed to act. She donned a disguise— a hat, and a coat that obscured her features She slipped out her window, carefully avoiding the watchful eyes of Wrecker or anyone for that matter. She scaled the wall dropping silently on the sidewalk below. Once outside, she made her way to a nearby phone booth, her heart racing with every step.

Inside the booth, Beka dialed the number she knew by heart. After a few rings, Seneca's voice came through the receiver, cautious yet familiar. "Detective Mori." She replied groggily.

"Seneca, it's Beka. I need to meet you. But it has to be in private. Come alone."

There was a pause on the line. "Beka? Where the hell are you?"

"I'll be at the old 501st diner. I'll be waiting for you. Please, just come alone." Beka ended the call and took a deep breath.  She pulled the collar of her trench coat over her face as she slipped out of the phone booth.

A sense of urgency edged Seneca's mind. She quickly grabbed some pants, and a coat and sprinted out the door.

Beka stood outside and waved her out. A yellow cab swerved to the curb, its tires splashing water against the curb. The driver, a grizzled man with a thick mustache and weary eyes, leaned out of the window, his brows furrowing as he took in the sight of the drenched detective.

"Where to, doll?" he asked, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"The 501st Diner," Beka replied, her tone clipped but calm. "Coruscant."

The driver scoffed, shaking his head. "Coruscant? You gotta be fucking kidding me. I'm not driving all the way from Kamino to Coruscant this late. You got any idea how far that is?"

Beka's hand dipped into the pocket of her coat, pulling out a delicate silver necklace adorned with a small, intricate charm. She held it up, the pendant catching the faint light as it swung gently between her fingers.

"This should cover it," she said coolly, her eyes locking onto his. "Take me to the 501st Diner, and it's yours."

The driver's eyes widened, flicking between the necklace and Beka's unyielding gaze. After a beat, he let out a heavy sigh and nodded, motioning for her to get in. "Alright, alright, lady. Get in. But if we get there and it's closed, I'm not waitin' around."

Beka slid into the backseat, closing the door with a solid thud as the cab lurched forward. She leaned back against the worn leather seat, letting the rhythm of the city's pulse carry her thoughts to Coruscant.

When they finally pulled up to the 501st Diner, she handed the driver the necklace, his fingers greedily snatching it from her hand. Before he could drive off, Beka produced a gold bracelet from her pocket, holding it up where the dim light caught its gleam.

"Wait for me," she said, her voice steady, "and you can have this too."

The driver's eyes widened, gleaming with avarice as he nodded eagerly. "You got it, lady."

When Seneca arrived, she walked into the diner with a purposeful stride. Her eyes scanned the room until they settled on the figure sitting in the corner booth, partially obscured by shadows. As she approached, Beka stood up, her heart pounding in her chest.

Seneca's eyes widened with recognition. She took a cautious step forward, then pulled Beka into a tight, heartfelt hug. "Beka... I can't believe it's you."

Beka returned the embrace, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's me old friend." They pulled back but their hands still held onto each other's arms. "I'll get straight into it. You have to call off the search, say it was a cold case."

Seneca pulled back slightly, her gaze searching Beka's they both slid in opposite sides of the booth. "But I found you. I can protect you now."

Beka shook her head, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and worry. "No, Seneca. If you trust me, you'll understand why I need you to stop. I'm in a situation where any further pursuit could put everyone at risk including you, your wife, and your sons. Please, just trust me on this."

Seneca's face was a mask of conflict. "I've been searching for you for so long Beka, I need to know that you're safe."

Beka's voice was firm but gentle. "I'm safe, for now. Trust me, this is for the best." Beka slid from the booth adjusting her coat when she stood up, she turned to face Seneca one last time, "Please tell my dad and brother I'm safe."

With a final, meaningful look, Beka turned and left the diner, her figure disappearing into the night. Seneca watched her go, her mind reeling with the implications of Beka's request. The encounter had left her with more questions than answers, but she understood the weight of Beka's plea.

Beka emerged from the 501st Diner, the cool night air swirling around her as she made her way back to the waiting cab. She opened the cab door and slid back into the seat; the bracelet still clutched in her hand.

The driver glanced at her, his eyes darting from the bracelet to her face, hungry for his reward. She tossed it into his waiting palm without a word, the metal clinking against his calloused fingers. Satisfied, he tucked it away and pulled the cab back onto the road.

"Back to Kamino, then?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Beka nodded, her gaze drifting out the window as the city began to blur past them. The cab wound its way through the winding streets, the damp air pressing in on all sides as they approached the mansion.

The cab rolled to a stop at the gates, the driver's eyes flicking toward the mansion before settling on Beka once more. "Big place," he muttered, his voice thick with curiosity.

"It is," Beka replied, her tone leaving no room for further questions. She pushed open the door and stepped out, the chill of Kamino's night air biting at her skin.

With a nod of thanks, she shut the door behind her, the cab pulling away as she walked toward the walls. The mansion's silence was a stark contrast to the buzzing tension Beka felt as she slipped over the outside gate walls.

She moved swiftly; her breath still ragged from the adrenaline of the night. As she climbed the wall of the mansion eased the window open and stepped inside her room, the dim light from the inside illuminated the figure waiting in the shadows.

Hunter stood by her desk looking over the letters Beka forgot to burn that night, his posture rigid, his expression a mix of anger and concern. As Beka entered, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart pound harder.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hunter's voice was low but commanding, his frustration evident.

Beka froze, her anger bubbling to the surface. "You know exactly where I've been."

Hunter's face darkened. "That was too risky. You could've jeopardized everything."

Beka's eyes flared with defiance. "I'm not going to stay locked up here forever, Hunter. I'm not going to be a prisoner."

Hunter's gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "You're not a prisoner, Beka. You're here for your own safety."

Beka's voice trembled with frustration. "If I'm not a prisoner, then why am I confined to this mansion? Why do I have to sneak out just to have a conversation? I'm being treated like one."

Hunter's expression was conflicted. "You're here because there's a threat. We're trying to protect you."

Beka shook her head, her voice rising. "I don't need to be protected like this. I need to have some control over my own life. If you really want to help me, you'd understand that I need freedom too."

Hunter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand that you want freedom, but the risks are too great. We're stretched thin, and any slip-up could put us all in danger."

Beka took a step closer, her voice a mixture of desperation and resolve. "I'm not asking for complete freedom, just a little bit of trust and respect."

Hunter's expression softened, but his resolve remained. "I'll take your feelings into account, but for now, we have to play it safe. You're not just dealing with the threats out there; you're also a part of a much bigger picture."

Beka's shoulders slumped, her anger giving way to a deep sadness. "I understand that there are risks, but this isn't living. It's existing in a cage."

Hunter's gaze was conflicted, and he finally nodded. "I've given you so much, tried to be a bit less restrictive."

"Then why I do feel like an animal in a cage?" Beka's expression softened slightly, though the frustration remained.

"Because I'm terrified, I'll lose you all over again." Hunter answered, his hands holding Beka's arms, "I lost you once and I won't allow myself to feel empty again."

Beka looked at Hunter their brown eyes looking deep as if they were both searching for answers. Beka broke the connection looking down and sighing. With that, Beka turned and moved to her bed, the weight of the conversation lingering in the room.

Hunter watched her for a moment, Beka's plea for autonomy had struck a chord. As he left the room, he was left to ponder the complexities of their situation and the growing need to address Beka's concerns while still maintaining their safety.

Seneca sat in her dimly lit office, the walls lined with evidence boards, new photographs, and case files related to Beka's disappearance. The room was filled with the weight of unresolved questions and the remnants of a case that had haunted Seneca for months. Her mind was still reeling from the brief encounter with Beka at the diner, where the former detective had urged her to call off the search.

With a heavy heart, Seneca began to sift through the piles of paperwork. She reviewed each new photograph, each document, and each report, her fingers tracing the familiar evidence of a case that had once been a priority. The clues, the witness statements, the endless notes—it all seemed to mock her, now carrying a new and troubling significance. Seneca's thoughts were consumed by Beka's words. She rose from her desk and approached the large corkboard covered with photographs and notes.

With a determined breath, Seneca began to remove each piece of evidence, methodically pulling down photos of Beka and pinning notes about the search. The once-busy board was slowly stripped of its contents, leaving only empty space. Seneca took the files from her desk, one by one, and tossed them into a large trash bin. Each piece of paper that fluttered to the bottom felt like a final, painful acknowledgment of the case's end. As she threw away the last of the documents, she felt a sense of finality that was both liberating and crushing.

Finally, Seneca picked up her phone and dialed the number of the office clerk. When the call connected, she spoke with resolute calm. "I need to make an official statement. The case involving Rebekath Hardt Miss Ribbon Singer has now been declared cold. All active investigations are to be halted, and any remaining evidence is to be archived."

There was a pause on the other end before the clerk's voice responded. "Understood. I'll make the necessary arrangements."

Seneca hung up the phone and looked around her office, now stark and empty of the case that had consumed so much of her professional life. As she gathered her remaining belongings, Seneca's thoughts were a turbulent blend of hope and uncertainty. She left the office, and the weight of the decision settled on her shoulders.

The next morning was quiet at the mansion, with the usual hustle and bustle of daily life muted by a serene calm. Beka was in the sunlit dining room, sipping some warm coffee as she stared out of the window, lost in thought.

Hunter was waiting in his office, where Tech entered with a determined expression. The air was charged with anticipation as Tech reported back from his covert mission. "Hunter," Tech began, his voice steady. "I've just returned from the police station. The case involving Beka has been officially declared cold. All active searches have been halted, and the remaining evidence is being archived."

Hunter's expression shifted from curiosity to a deep, thoughtful gaze. "Are you certain of the details?"

Tech nodded. "Absolutely. I was able to verify the information with several officers. They're no longer pursuing any leads related to Beka. The case is officially closed."

Hunter stood up and walked downstairs with Tech following behind. His gaze turned toward the dining room, where Beka remained seated, her demeanor calm and collected. As he entered the room, he noticed Beka's tranquil composure as she continued to sip her coffee, her expression unreadable.

"Darling," Hunter said, his tone softer than usual. "What did you do?"

Beka looked up from her coffee, her eyes meeting Hunter's with a mixture of relief and resignation. "Like I said last night, I think you know."

Hunter studied her face, trying to gauge her reaction. Beka set her cup down gently, her fingers lingering on the handle as she met his gaze. Hunter nodded, "It's a significant change, but a load off of us."

Beka smirked, a crafty little smirk. "I just want to move on from this and have some semblance of normalcy, whatever that might look like."

Tech, standing silently nearby, observed the exchange with a puzzled expression.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Seneca stepped into Gruno's modest shop, its shelves lined with a variety of goods. Gruno was behind the counter, his large hands methodically arranging some items.

Jetto stood near the display, his face a mixture of frustration and anger. When he saw Seneca, his eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists. Before Seneca could respond, Jetto's anger boiled over. "You! You closed the case without even telling us what's going on!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

Seneca's expression tightened, but she maintained her composure. "Jetto, please," she began, her tone calm but firm. "I'm sorry, but I can't go into details. It's... complicated."

Jetto's face reddened with fury. "Complicated? Beka's life is on the line, and you just shut it down?"

Seneca took a deep breath, her gaze steady. "Beka is okay," she said softly, trying to diffuse the situation. "But things have become more dangerous. I can't tell you everything, but I need you to trust me on this."

Jetto's frustration was palpable, and he shook his head vehemently. "Trust you? You expect me to trust you after everything that's happened? I don't buy it!"

Without waiting for a response, Jetto stormed out of the shop, slamming the door behind him. The bell clanged loudly, signaling his departure. Seneca's shoulders slumped, the weight of Jetto's anger pressing heavily on her.

Gruno watched Jetto leave, his expression unreadable. He then turned his attention back to Seneca, his gaze softening with a hint of sorrow. "When Beka joined the police, it was one of my biggest fears," he said quietly. "Losing her was always a possibility, something I tried not to think about. And now... now it's happened."

Seneca met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and understanding. "I'm sorry, Gruno. I wish there was more I could tell you, but the situation is delicate. All I can say is that Beka's well-being is our top priority."

Gruno sighed deeply, his large hands resting on the counter. "I understand. I just hope you're right, and she's truly safe."

Seneca nodded, her heart heavy with the burden of the truth she couldn't fully share. "I'm doing everything I can."

As Seneca left the shop, the door closing gently behind her, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease. She knew that trust was hard-earned and easily lost, and that today's confrontation with Jetto reflected the growing tension and fear that surrounded them all.

Later, the brothers and Phee had gathered in the living room, their faces reflecting a mix of anger, confusion, and concern. Hunter stood at the center, his eyes fixed on Beka, who remained calm and resolute despite the storm brewing around her. They watched the news unfold. The anchor's voice echoed through the room, carrying with it the weight of the latest update.

"Breaking news," the anchor announced, her tone grave. "The high-profile case involving the mysterious disappearance of Rebekath Hardt also known as Miss Ribbon Singer has officially been declared a cold case by the authorities. Detective Seneca Mori, who has been leading the investigation, made the announcement earlier today."

On the screen, the scene shifted to a chaotic press conference outside the police station. Reporters crowded around Detective Seneca, their cameras flashing as they shouted questions.

"Are you really calling this a cold case, Detective?" one reporter demanded loudly, pushing forward to get Seneca's attention.

Seneca, looking visibly worn from the weeks of relentless scrutiny, paused for a brief moment before answering. Her face was stoic, her expression unreadable as she faced the barrage of questions. "Yes," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the noise. "This case is closed for now. No more questions."

Without waiting for further inquiry, Seneca turned and walked briskly back into the police station, her shoulders squared as if bearing the weight of the decision.

In the living room, the family exchanged uneasy glances. The reality of the situation hit hard—Beka was officially considered a cold case, her whereabouts unknown, her fate uncertain.

Omega, sitting beside Beka, reached out and squeezed her hand. "Are you going to be okay, right?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with hope but edged with fear.

"Omega go find Sprig for me," Beka asked her tone serious.

Omega nodded and dashed out of the living room. Hunter turned the TV off.

"You had no right to sneak out like that," Crosshair snapped, his voice edged with fury. "You put everyone at risk." He tried to get up, but he winced as he clutched his side.

Beka met his gaze steadily. "Talking to Seneca stopped the investigation on me, didn't it?"

Hunter stepped forward, his expression stern. "You should have discussed it with us, with me."

Beka shook her head. "While you're busy protecting yourselves, I was protecting Seneca."

The room fell silent, confusion evident on their faces. Tech was the first to speak. "We could've handled it."

Beka took a deep breath, her voice firm but laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability. "By killing her? Seneca has more to lose if things go wrong. If I were to die tomorrow, it wouldn't matter much because I don't have anything worth losing. Seneca... she has a wife and two small children."

Phee's eyes softened with understanding, but Crosshair remained skeptical. "And how does sneaking out help her?"

Beka's eyes met Crosshair's, unwavering. "If the search continued, Seneca would be in constant danger. By convincing her to call off the search, I was protecting her from potential threats. She's vulnerable because of who she is and who she loves. I can't let her be a target because of me."

Wrecker's brow furrowed as he looked between Beka and the others. "But why didn't you tell us?"

Beka turned to face him her brows furrowing. "Would you have said yes to me talking to her?" No one responded to what Beka just asked. That gave Beka the answer she needed.

Echo broke the silence side, looked up at Beka with wide eyes. "You really care about her, don't you?"

Beka's expression softened as she nodded. "Yes, I do. She's risked so much, and I couldn't let her life be jeopardized because of my situation."

Hunter's anger began to dissolve, replaced by a somber understanding. "We get it, but we could have found a way to help without you putting yourself in danger."

Beka's eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "Protecting Seneca is the main priority to me."

Tech nodded slowly, his analytical mind processing the information. "We need to be more coordinated next time, but I understand your reasoning."

Crosshair remained silent, his expression conflicted. Finally, he spoke, his tone grudgingly respectful. "Just... next time, talk to us. We can't afford to have you going rogue."

Beka gave a teasing smirk. "Aww, you do care."

Crosshair rolled his eyes giving a quick huff from his nose as he placed a toothpick in his mouth. The room relaxed slightly, the tension easing as they began to comprehend the depth of Beka's actions.

Hunter whispered something to Tech and Echo out of earshot of Beka, both boys nodded and made a silent exit. As the conversation shifted to planning and coordination, Beka glanced at Hunter who looked deep in her eyes like he was still trying to read her.

Chapter summary: Seneca learns the truth

Warning ⚠️: Mature themes and language, sex, drugs, abuse, blood, death, drinking, suicide attempt, gun and gang violence, and smoking

Word count: 3459

Rating 21+

Extra: alternate universe story

Chapter 18

Seneca had been restless, her mind a whirlwind of worry and determination. With the investigation closed, Seneca knew had to play her cards right. Off the books and on her own, she ventured into the underbelly of the city, navigating mafia bars and seedy clubs, her badge tucked away to avoid unwanted attention.

Her initial encounters were challenging, navigating the murky depths of Coruscant's underbelly. Faces were half-hidden beneath fedoras, and whispers were swallowed by the constant hum of city life. The criminal world offered no kindness to cops, so Seneca had to proceed with caution. Yet, through sheer persistence, she managed to track down Valree, one of Beka's old confidantes from her time on the force.

They arranged to meet in the kind of place where secrets were currency—a narrow alleyway cloaked in darkness, the distant glow of streetlights barely piercing through the fog. Valree had once vowed never to speak to cops again, but Seneca wasn't just any cop. She was someone who understood the unwritten rules of their world.

"Mori," Valree greeted, leaning against a brick wall, one leg casually propped up like they owned the night.

"Brights," Seneca replied, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her trench coat. She didn't waste time. "Tell me about the fire again. I need every detail."

Valree's gaze flickered, cautious, her voice dropping to a low murmur that barely rose above the whisper of the wind. "The big leagues were there that night. The heads of the mafia—the Bad Batch. They don't show up unless it's something really important."

"The Bad Batch," Seneca echoed, her voice tight with the kind of tension, the name was very familiar. Seneca thought for a second, The Marauder Family were the kind of crime bosses no one in law enforcement dared to touch.

At first, everyone believed them to be just rich spoiled brats who just came from old money, but really it was their activities that got them the dough. Beka was one of those who didn't know. "No wonder no one's talking. One of my witnesses claimed they saw them at the warehouse that night."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised. That night with the fire," Valree continued, her tone dark as the shadows around them. "I saw Beka in that car remember that?"

"You mentioned it was black, but that's all?" Seneca pressed.

"They drove too fast, and the smoke—it was too thick," Valree sighed.

"Finis suggested the fire might've been a freak accident," Seneca remarked, her brow furrowing.

"That wasn't any freak accident," Valree's voice hardened, her eyes narrowing. "It was arson and whoever did it knew exactly what they were doing."

"That was never in the report," Seneca frowned, suspicion creeping into her voice.

"Funny, 'cause I told an officer about it," Valree replied, her brows knitting together in frustration. "It was... what's his name...?" They snapped their fingers, trying to pull the name from the smoky recesses of their mind. "Laine Niel. Officer Laine Niel."

"Did you say Officer Niel?" Seneca's head snapped up, her eyes sharp with sudden recognition.

"Yeah," Valree confirmed, confusion now coloring her tone.

"That was Beka's first partner," Seneca muttered, more to herself than to Valree. "He transferred out of Coruscant not long after I joined."

"If I were you, I'd have another chat with that Lina girl," Valree suggested. Beka's old bandmate. Their voice laced with warning. "She seemed really chummy with Niel—like they had some history."

"Oh, I plan to," Seneca replied, her resolve hardening like steel. "This is just the beginning."

Valree sighed, pulling their helmet from under their arm and sliding it on with a practiced motion. They gave Seneca a long, appraising look. "Look, it's late. Sleep on it. Get home to your wife and sons before this city swallows you whole."

"Biala took the boys to her parents," Seneca admitted, a weary edge to her voice. "We had a fight. She thinks I'm seeing Dalear behind her back."

Valree raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth pulling into a knowing smirk. "Well, are you?"

"No," Seneca shook her head, frustration seeping into her words. "I haven't seen Dalear outside of court. This case—it's about Beka. That's what's been keeping me up at night."

Valree adjusted the helmet on her head, straddling her motorcycle with ease. "Word of advice—talk to your wife. Hardt's not the only person who you should be worried about. Don't lose your family over this."

Seneca didn't reply, just nodded, the words sinking in like stones in the harbor. Valree gave a final nod before revving the engine, the roar cutting through the stillness of the night as she sped off, the headlights disappearing into the mist.

Seneca watched until the last echoes faded, the city's silence pressing in around her. She leaned against the cold brick wall, her thoughts a tangled web. Just as she was about to turn away, a voice—low and ominous—called out from the darkness.

"Detective Mori?"

Seneca turned, instincts kicking in, but before she could react, everything went black. The darkness was suffocating as the bag was yanked off Seneca's head, her vision adjusting to the dim light of the mansion's basement. The air was heavy with the scent of old leather and dust. She tried to move her arms but found she was restricted to a chair. Echo stood before her, his expression unreadable, while the rest of the brothers—Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair—stood by, tension evident in their stances.

Echo's voice was cold and measured. "So, Detective Mori, let's start with what you know. What have you uncovered?"

Without hesitation, Seneca spat at him, the action sharp and defiant. "I'm not fucking talking shit. You think you can scare me? You've got another thing coming bitch."

Wrecker stood guard at the entrance, his imposing figure blocking the way. His massive frame and stern expression were meant to deter any unauthorized entry, but Beka's resolve was unwavering. Driven by an unrelenting curiosity and concern, Beka approached with determined steps, her eyes sharp and focused. She had to see for herself what was happening. The muffled sounds of conversation and tension from within only fueled her determination.

Wrecker, noticing her approach, raised a hand to stop her. "Hold on, Beka. You shouldn't be—"

But Beka was quicker. With a sudden burst of agility, she ducked under Wrecker's arm and slipped past him. Her movements were fluid and deliberate, a contrast to Wrecker's more cumbersome attempt to intercept her. She darted forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she made her way into the basement.

As Beka crossed the threshold, her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her. Seneca stood in the center of the room, her wrists bound, and her head held high despite the circumstances. The stark light of the basement cast harsh shadows across her face, highlighting the intensity of her situation.

"Seneca?!" Beka's voice was a mix of shock and relief, her gaze fixed on her old friend.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to face the new arrival. Beka rushed to her untying her hands, the brothers didn't even try to stop her.

Seneca's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—relief at seeing Beka, but also an underlying anger. "Beka," she breathed, her voice strained but filled with a deep, complex emotion. "Are you hurt?" Seneca asked rubbing her once bound wrists.

Beka shook her head quickly, her expression a mix of concern and resolve. "No. I'm fine."

"Good," Seneca said, her tone icy despite the warmth of her relief. "Just making sure before I do this." In a swift, sudden motion, Seneca slapped Beka hard across the face. The resounding smack echoed in the confined space, drawing gasps from the onlookers.

The brothers tensed at the unexpected act of aggression, Beka's face stinging from the blow but her resolve unshaken. Her eyes met Seneca's with a fierce intensity.

"How could you get caught up in this? The same corruption you fought against when you were a cop. We were partners, sisters. And you just vanished."

Beka's gaze was steady as she met Seneca's. "How many at the precinct know about this?"

"None," Seneca replied sharply. "I'm on my own. This is off the books."

Beka's eyes widened slightly, her worry evident. "Are you going rogue?"

"No," Seneca said firmly. "I'm not going rogue. When you called that night and were so vague, did you really think I wouldn't dig deeper?"

Beka took a deep breath, trying to explain. "Things are complicated right now. Someone's targeting me because of my past. If you still trust me even a little, you'll understand why I couldn't reach out. They kept me from contacting you. I couldn't risk you and your family being harmed."

Seneca's eyes softened slightly, but her anger remained. "News flash! My wife fucking left me, she took the fucking boys. And you left me in the dark."

Beka's voice was calm but resolute. "I'm doing everything I can to keep the police out of this. It's bigger than any of us."

As the two women argued, the brothers stood back, each reacting to the heated confrontation in their own way.

"Should we—" Tech began, his finger pointing uncertainly at the chaotic scene between Seneca and Beka. His voice was laden with concern, his mind trying to process whether their intervention was required.

Wrecker shook his head vigorously, his expression one of firm disapproval.

Echo, still wiping the remnants of Seneca's spit from his cheek with a grimace, added, "Yeah, I don't want to get spit on again or slapped. Once was enough, thank you." He glanced at Tech with a sardonic smirk.

Hunter, who had been standing silently nearby, finally spoke up with a touch of dry humor. Well, at least now you know what it feels like to be a human target for saliva."

Echo shot him a glare, his irritation barely masked by his sarcastic tone. "Don't start. I'm just trying to avoid another close encounter with Seneca's aim. I'd rather not have her add 'human target by spit' to her resume."

Crosshair, leaning against a wall with a bored expression, chimed in with a smirk. "I say let them have at it. We've got bigger problems than a couple of angry women. Besides, this is the most entertaining thing we've seen all week."

Wrecker let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, "Yeah."

Hunter sighed, shaking his head as he watched the two women continue their confrontation. "Looks like we're staying out of this one. Let's just hope they work out their issues before we have to step in and break up a fight. The last thing we need is another day at the hospital."

The brothers exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of amusement and concern as they watched the chaotic scene unfold.

With a scowl etched deep on Seneca's face, she turned abruptly, grabbing her coat from the chair where it had been draped. Seneca's voice then rose above all the noise. It was harsh, tinged with raw betrayal. "You were a damn good cop and a better detective. But now? I don't even know what to say." Her words cut through the room like a knife, each syllable heavy with disappointment and hurt. Her fingers fumbled as she reached into the coat's deep pocket, her movements sharp and purposeful.

The weight of the moment seemed to press down on her, the air thick with unspoken anger and sadness. Her hand emerged clutching a small, familiar object. With a deliberate motion, Seneca pulled out Beka's old badge—the tarnished symbol of her former life.

The badge caught the dim light, its gleam cold and indifferent as it was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor. It landed with a soft clink, a stark contrast to the emotional storm that raged around it.

Beka's breath caught in her throat as she bent down to pick up the badge. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably. She gazed at the badge that once symbolized honor and duty. Her grip tightened on the badge, her knuckles white as she tried to steady herself.

"Seneca," Beka's voice trembled as she reached out toward her friend, her hand outstretched in a desperate gesture of reconciliation.

Seneca's head turned sharply at the sound of Beka's voice, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. "Don't," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Are these guys going to kill me?" Her gaze swept over the brothers, noting their uneasy shifting and the way they avoided her eyes.

Beka looked into Hunter's eyes, searching for any hint of mercy or understanding. She read his expression like a book. "No," Beka replied softly, though the word felt like a fragile promise amid the turmoil. She took a deep breath, trying to offer whatever comfort she could.

Seneca's shoulders sagged slightly, the tension in her face softening just a fraction, but the fear and betrayal remained. The brothers, sensing the weight of the moment moved with careful precision.

"Please don't spit on me again." Echo pleaded gently placing the bag back over Seneca's head, the fabric obscuring her sight and plunging her into darkness once more. As Tech and Echo prepared to escort her out, the room seemed to grow quieter.

Beka watched them escort Seneca out. She stood alone in the dimly lit room, she looked at her badge in her hand. The brothers watched in silence, their faces reflecting a mixture of sympathy and helplessness.

When Seneca was finally dropped off at her doorstep at her home, the scene was one of stark emotional contrast. She sank down onto the steps, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to process the weight of betrayal and loss.

As the morning sun cast its hazy light through the dusty windows of the precinct, Seneca trudged in with a heavy heart. The usual clamor of the office seemed distant, muffled by the turmoil brewing within her. She moved toward her office, her steps weighed down by a burden that was far heavier than any case file.

Jazzori stood nearby, her sharp gaze catching Seneca's entrance. She approached concern etched on her face. "Morning, Seneca," Jazzori greeted, her tone light. "I wanted to discuss the upcoming case—the one involving the new syndicate. I've been going over the preliminary reports."

Seneca's response was a mere nod, her gaze fixed on her cup of coffee, "Put it in my office I'll get through it later." She tried to maintain her composure, but Jazzori's keen eyes did not miss the subtle shift in her demeanor. Jazzori's concern deepened as she noticed the weariness etched into Seneca's face.

"Seneca," Jazzori said softly, her voice dropping to a more personal tone. "What's wrong? You don't look like yourself today."

Seneca attempted a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's nothing," she replied, her voice lacking its usual conviction. "Just one of those days."

Jazzori's eyes narrowed slightly, her concern sharpening. "You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you."

Seneca hesitated, her eyes darting around as if searching for a way to deflect. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not about a case. It's personal."

Jazzori's gaze softened, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Go on."

Seneca took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping as she let her guard down. "My wife, Biala, she... she left me. Took the boys and moved out."

Jazzori's eyebrows arched in surprise. "I'm so sorry, Seneca. I didn't know."

Seneca's eyes were distant, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. "She thinks I'm cheating on her. She believes I'm involved with you—Jazzori." She paused, her voice trembling as she continued.

Jazzori's expression softened further, her professional demeanor giving way to genuine empathy. "I'm so sorry Seneca, I can talk to her for you."

Seneca's gaze dropped, staring at the dark liquid in her cup as she struggled to keep her composure. "No, no. I'm trying to make things right, but it feels like every time I turn around, there's another problem. I just want to make things right with Biala and my boys, but it's like everything is falling apart."

Jazzori placed a comforting hand on Seneca's arm, a rare moment of warmth from the usually stoic DA. "Take it one step at a time. Sometimes it's the small steps that lead us back to where we need to be."

Seneca nodded, her eyes still clouded with a mix of sadness and exhaustion.

Jazzori offered a small, reassuring smile. As Jazzori turned to leave, Seneca watched her go, feeling a faint glimmer of relief in her emotions.

That evening, Seneca stepped into Gruno's modest shop, the warm light from the single lamp casting a gentle glow over the room. Gruno was sitting at the kitchen table, his broad shoulders hunched over a steaming cup of coffee.

"Evening, Gruno," Seneca greeted, her voice tinged with the weariness of the day. She settled into a chair opposite him, a tired smile on her lips.

Gruno looked up, his face lined with concern. "Evening, Seneca. Everything alright?"

Seneca nodded, though her eyes betrayed a hint of melancholy. "Just dealing with some personal matters. I needed a bit of advice, I guess."

Gruno's expression softened. "Well, you're in the right place. What's on your mind?"

Seneca sighed, looking out the window at the darkening street. "It's about love and loss. You know, when things fall apart, it feels like everything you thought was solid just fucking crumbles away."

"Biala and the boys are still gone?" Gruno asked.

"I've been thinking about how everything changed so quickly," Seneca responded.

Gruno nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. "Love's a tricky thing. It can be the strongest thing in the world, but also the most fragile. When it's gone, it leaves a hell of a void." Just then, the sound of the bell and the door burst open with a sudden, jarring noise. Jetto stumbled inside, his clothes torn and dirty, his face bearing fresh bruises. Gruno's face darkened with worry as he rushed to his son. "Jetto! What the hell happened to you?"

Jetto shot him a glare, his eyes flashing with defiance and pain. "It's nothing, just leave me alone!" He shoved past Gruno and stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Seneca watched the exchange with concern, her gaze shifting to Gruno as he stood in the middle of the shop, his face a mixture of frustration and helplessness.

"Jetto's been hanging with the wrong crowd after school," Gruno said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. "With Beka gone, he's found himself mixed up with some rough characters. I've been trying to keep him on the straight and narrow, but it's like pulling damn teeth."

Seneca's eyes narrowed as she glanced out the window, her sharp detective's gaze catching sight of a group of men lingering in the shadows, their figures unmistakable against the dim streetlight. Their presence was unmistakable—the telltale signs of the Death Watch gang, notorious for their criminal activities and ruthless demeanor.

"Gruno," Seneca said softly, her tone serious, "those men outside—they're from the Death Watch. Jetto's been associating with Death Watch. This could be dangerous."

Gruno's eyes widened in alarm, his hand tightening around his coffee cup. "Death Watch? Damn it. I've heard them claiming territories more, I thought Jetto knew to stay away from them."

Seneca nodded, her expression grim. "We need to do something before this situation gets worse. Jetto's in over his head, and he needs help before he gets in too deep."

Gruno's shoulders slumped, the weight of his worries pressing down on him. "I just don't know what to do. I've tried everything I can think of, but he won't listen."

Seneca placed a comforting hand on Gruno's arm. " We need to get him away from those guys before it's too late."

Gruno looked at Seneca with a sudden thought. "What about Beka? Can't you reach her?"

Seneca's gaze grew distant, and she looked down, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the table. "It's complicated, Gruno."

Gruno's eyes searched her face for an explanation. "Complicated how?"

Seneca sighed deeply, the weight of her words heavy. "Beka's been dealing with things far beyond what we can understand."

Gruno's face showed a mix of confusion and sorrow. "So, she's not coming back?"

Seneca shook her head slowly. "Not right now, but when she finds out about Jetto."

As Seneca and Gruno stood together in silence, they knew that their next steps would be crucial in saving Jetto from a future entanglement from Death Watch.

My BINGO sheet for The Bad Batch series finale

Crosshair will be fine ❤️

Happy Final Bad Batch Eve!

The Bad Batch needs this at the beginning of every episode

I bet he does this all the time once they’re safe on Pabu!

You guys remember that scene in the bad batch when Hunter picks Omega up and twirls her around in his arms because he loves her so much

I adore this! More cadet Batch please!

Baby Batch comic!

This is such an amazing story!!! Love it!

When You Wake

Written for the @summer-of-bad-batch prompts "Hold still" and "Don't avoid the question."

Hunter wonders what he will tell Omega after she wakes up from her injuries. Set during Plan 99. Angst, grief, overall sads. ~1895 words.

---

“Please, CT-9901. Hold still,” AZI said. Hunter knew the medical droid’s voice was meant to be soothing, but the words were like shattered transparisteel, tearing at his ears.

Hunter took a deep breath. Tried to listen to the droid. But his eyes kept darting to where Omega lay huddled limply on the bed, still unconscious. Wrecker sat at her bedside, trying to remain strong for her. But the brace around his neck, the slump of his shoulders, the raggedness of the rise and fall of his chest all showed he was barely doing better than she was. 

“Why won’t she wake up?” Hunter asked in a hoarse voice as the droid continued placing a sturdy wrap around his chest.

“She will,” AZI said. “You must give her time. She experienced a concussion and pulmonary contusions. She will recover, but even with my care recovery is not instantaneous. All of your injuries are serious, and will take time to mend.”

Hunter bit his lip as the droid finished wrapping his chest. Between the extra support and the medication the droid had already given him, the pain was finally receding. 

The physical pain, anyway.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about the fall. Don’t --

“Am I good?” Hunter muttered.

“Yes, CT-9901. You will make a full recovery with appropriate rest. Would you like me to stay in here and continue monitoring Omega, or --”

“Go. Please.”

Hunter exhaled heavily. The droid had saved them; Hunter didn’t know what would have happened to Omega or Wrecker without AZI’s work, but Hunter couldn’t stand looking at him and his cheerful demeanor a moment longer. 

“I will be waiting in the bar, should anything in her condition change.” The droid hovered out of sight, his servos buzzing and grating. Everything felt too loud right now, too sharp, too much.

Hunter stiffly got to his feet, resting a hand briefly on Wrecker’s back for support. Together they looked down at Omega, neither of them able to speak.

Hunter shuddered, remembering the sight and smell of her little cap, soaked through with blood. Luckily AZI had been able to stitch the wound in her scalp and clean her hair, though Hunter could still pick up a faint whiff of dried blood in the thick, close air of the back room. 

How could she look so calm right now, like nothing had happened?

When everything had happened?

Wrecker painstakingly stood up, face twisting with effort. “Here. You -- you should sit with her. I’ll go.”

Hunter looked into his brother’s face, seeing puffy, reddened eyes. “But what do I say to her? When she wakes up?”

Wrecker shook his head, tears threatening again. “I don’t know. I can’t -- don’t -- don’t make me.” He grimaced, looking past Hunter as if seeing something far away. “She won’t wanna see me. I could’ve stopped him, Hunter -- I could’ve saved --”

Wrecker, get him up here!

Hunter reached out a trembling hand. Laid it on Wrecker’s shoulder. Shook his head. “No you couldn’t,” he said, voice dull and empty. “And neither could I.”

---

They’d talked about it once, days before their first mission.

Tech glowed. He scribbled his thoughts on the walls, plans a dozen times over, a manic burst of ideas. There were plans where Hunter infiltrated, where Wrecker smashed or exploded, where Tech used the Seppies’ own droids against them, where Crosshair set off a chain reaction with his mirrors. They strategized long into the night, nearly giddy with making up more plans: some of them insane, some of them just good clean fun blowing up clankers. 

Until Crosshair swiped Tech’s datapad five hours past lights out, scrolling down idly and then looking puzzled. “You haven’t gone over this one. What’s Plan 99? There’s no details, nothing else, just the number.” 

Tech grabbed it back. “Ah. It’s -- it’s nothing.”

“Tech, it’s always something with you,” said Hunter. 

“Yeah. Don’t avoid the question,” Wrecker said, yawning. “Unless Plan 99’s going to bed an’ getting some shut-eye. These plans are fun, Tech, but I’m never gonna remember ‘em all.”

Tech frowned. “Very well. You recall 99, our fellow defective clone.”

“Old 99,” Wrecker said, his eyes going soft. “He was a hero.”

“He showed those regs a thing or two,” Crosshair said, nodding respectfully. “But what’s he got to do with our plans? He’s been gone a long time.”

Hunter sighed. “I think I know what it means.” He gave Tech a long look. “Self-sacrifice, is it?”

Tech nodded. “We are soldiers and clones. Statistically speaking, it is highly unlikely that we will die of old age. I had thought that discussing it now might bring down the mood, so to speak, so I had not mentioned it before.” He looked around at them, the smiles from a few minutes ago all faded. “I see I was correct.”

“You all can be emotional about it if you want,” Crosshair scoffed. “But I wouldn’t miss any of you.”

“Bantha shit,” Wrecker said, punching Crosshair in the shoulder. Crosshair winced, rubbing his shoulder hard and scowling. “You’d miss me the most, and you know it!”

“That is irrelevant, if the mission requires it,” Tech said. “As it well may, in service of the greater good.”

“Look, Tech, don’t tell me the odds,” Hunter said. “Let’s just do our best to get through the war. This squad is something special. The regs might call it being defective, but I call it being better. That’s how we’re gonna get through this war -- being better together. So that means Plan 99 should only be the ultimate last resort. Understood?”

“Understood,” Wrecker and Crosshair said.

“Of course,” Tech agreed, blinking and adjusting his goggles. “I have no desire to implement Plan 99. It is only that it is a possibility that must be considered.”

---

A possibility.

An eventuality.

Hunter sat in the chair, his skin crawling, his mind blank hissing static.

Omega still lay unconscious, her heartbeat pulsing faintly, a soft rhythm he could sense beneath her gentle exhalations. The rhythm was slightly off from what he had attuned himself to on countless nights on the Marauder, its pattern disturbed by injury. But AZI had said she would be waking up, and soon.

What could Hunter possibly say to her?

He sat there, desperately hoping she would wake up and be all right, desperately hoping she would stay asleep. If she kept sleeping, he wouldn’t have to see her face when she woke up and realized Tech was gone.

She breathed in. Breathed out. He reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek. His hand froze, and he pulled it back.

He closed his eyes, but then there was Tech’s voice in his mind, resolute, determined, resigned. When have we ever followed orders? 

He couldn’t dwell on that. Couldn’t listen to it again. He reached out, opening his senses, desperately seeking distraction. Anything to keep the memory from playing back again and again. His leg twitched, jittering up and down as he opened his senses as fully as he could.

The room air pressed in on him, warm and stuffy and suffocating. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek, having slipped past his bandanna. The whine of Cid’s neon lights in the next room buzzed and prickled in his ears. He took a deep breath of the warm air, pulling in the smell of stale alcohol, crumbs of Mantell mix ground into the floorboards, hints of blood and sweat and body odor of a dozen different species. 

The floor in the hallway creaked, the sound consistent with someone stopping at the door and looking inside the room. Hunter didn’t bother turning around to see who it was. He knew it was Cid, between the pattern of the footfalls, the pitch of the creaking, the metallic scents of Trandoshan pheromones. His nose twitched, picking up a difference in Cid’s scent. Something was off with her pheromones, but he didn’t know enough about her species to guess what it meant. Maybe it was worry for the kid. Maybe it was regret. Maybe she was just hungry. 

He didn’t know, didn’t care. The slow heavy footsteps started up again, kept going down the hall.

His hand slid to his gauntlet, unsheathing his blade. Twirling the blade had become a habit long ago, as unconscious and automatic as Crosshair chewing his toothpicks or Tech scrolling his datapad. He hesitated, the blade’s weight and heft wholly familiar in his hand, and yet something seemed off. 

He twirled it lazily. No, nothing was wrong with the knife. He picked up the rhythm, blade spinning dangerously between his fingers -- 

Kriff. The blade clattered to the floor, narrowly avoiding slicing through his glove. It rattled him, looking down at it laying between his feet. 

Nothing was wrong with the blade. It was wrong with him.

Hunter picked up the blade, shoving it roughly back into his gauntlet. What was he doing? Stupid distractions when he should be thinking about Omega. About what he could possibly say to her.

I’m sorry, kid. We couldn’t save him. Nobody could. (But what if Wrecker had been able to get him up in time? What if we’d been faster getting out? What if we’d waited for backup?)

I’m sorry, Omega. Tech knew it was the only way.  (Did he? He was a genius. He should have figured something else out! How could he have fucked up like this? How could he leave us like this?)

I’m sorry I failed him. And you. And Crosshair. (Crosshair should’ve come with us, should’ve left the Empire when he had the chance. Then we would’ve never gone to Eriadu. This is his damn fault, all of it!)

I’m sorry I wasn’t a better leader. I’m so sorry, kid. 

(It’s on me. All of it. All of it.)

The pain roared within him, but it wasn’t the pain of broken ribs and torn muscles. It went deeper than that, dug itself deep into the very heart of him, emptied him out of everything but guilt and loss and disbelief. It took his breath away. He wrapped his arms around his injured chest, fingers digging into his sides, squeezing hard enough that the physical pain broke through again. He threw himself into it, drowned himself in the way his body jangled and ached.

He panted, grimacing. This he could deal with. This he could live with. But the emptiness, the awful truth that Tech was gone -- how was he supposed to live with that? How was he supposed to help Omega through it?

Hunter slumped forward, releasing his grip, taking a deep, jagged breath. His head swam.

He didn’t know how to do it.

He was going to do it anyway.

Hunter swallowed, nodding, and sat up despite the way his body protested. He watched Omega resting, her young face forgetful for just a little while longer.

He’d be there for her, no matter what. His resolve hardened, and he thought of sunny days on Pabu, the sound of waves on the beach, a town of people who did not practice war. He thought of childhood, something none of them had ever known. 

He hadn’t been able to save Crosshair from himself or the Empire.

He hadn’t been able to save Tech.

He’d save Omega if it killed him.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, kid,” Hunter whispered. “I promise.”

Cuteness overload!

dad and daughter day at disney

The Light

Words: 1374

Summary: Hunter and Crosshair have a chat

Notes: I promise I can write from another POV but this is a Hunter POV again.

Hunter gritted his teeth to try and stifle a scream. It was a deep, guttural noise that seemed to get stuck in his throat. They were taking away his life, his family, his battles, and his dreams. Pictures flashed in his head, the edges browning, coiling and burning away, lit by some bright, invisible flame. The pain in his head radiated from his forehead to the top of his spine. It felt like his brain was being liquidated inside his skull.

He sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat covering his face and dripping down his back. He had the blade of his knife clutched between his fingers, pulled back to his ear, ready to be released at the enemy.

There was a silhouette in the doorway, the amber light from the common area shining around the tall, lanky frame. They were leaning against the door but didn’t cross the threshold into the room.

Hunter relaxed, recognizing the hiss like breathing of his brother. He slowly lowered the knife, tucking it back under his pillow. “What can I do for you, Crosshair,” he said gruffly, trying to steady his beathing and shake off the last remnants of the nightmare.

“You were screaming,” Crosshair said matter-of-factly.

Hunter nodded and swung his legs out of bed. He pushed his sopping wet hair out of his face and padded past his brother, through the common room to the kitchen beyond. The sky was dark through the window, but Hunter could hear the stirring of the birds and the splashing of the fish in the harbor. Sunrise wasn’t too far away.

He set about making some caf. The thought of trying to sleep again wasn’t appealing, he might as well get the day started. Crosshair had followed him and was now propped in the doorway of the kitchen, once again leaning.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Crosshair asked, his voice unusually soft.

“It was just a nightmare, Crosshair. Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep,”

His brother crossed to the table and sat down. Hunter could feel his eyes on him the whole time and deliberately didn’t meet his gaze. Crosshair cradled the stump of his wrist in his left hand and rubbed it absentmindedly. He was getting used to the prosthetic, but still hadn’t committed to a permanent replacement. Hunter wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want it or wasn’t ready to leave the safety of Pabu and travel off world for the procedure.

Nightmares weren’t an uncommon occurrence in the house. Hunter had woken to Omega and Crosshair’s screams too many times to count. Omega would sob into her brothers’ arms before falling asleep against one of them and getting tucked back into bed.

Crosshair’s nightmares were a mystery. He never spoke about the content, just the feeling. Hunter was usually the first to respond, just because he heard him first. He’d stumble into his room to find him curled up in the corner under his lofted bed, knees pressed to his chest, head buried in his knees. They didn’t need to talk, Hunter would sit next to him, ground him in his presence and wait until he was ready to get up.

Wrecker had the fewest nightmares but when he did, he re-lived Eriadu. He watched Tech fall again and again in slow motion. He screamed out for him and every time woke up with his arms stretched outwards, trying to catch him. His scream would permeate Hunter’s dreams sometimes, and he’d wake up, reliving the moment with him.

Hunter’s dreams had started more recently. It had been three months since Tantis and just as the others had started to heal, the insidious mind experiments of Doctor Hemlock started to take hold. Even in death he couldn’t escape the Doctor’s grip and he couldn’t stand it.

The image of Omega handcuffed to Hemlock, being dragged away flashed in front of Hunter’s eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head to get rid of it. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he was startled when Crosshair spoke again.

“The dreams…they’re bright white and searing pain…”

Hunter looked over at his little brother, his narrow face contorted in anguish. His eyes were down, staring at the stump where his shooting hand should be.

“You feel like your soul is being stripped bare, your memories distorted or erased…like you are being erased. You can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.” Crosshair continued.

Hunter grabbed two cups of caf and sat down at the table opposite his brother. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said grimly.

He winced as he sat on the rickety wooden chair. The explosion he got caught up in had damaged the discs in his back. Another souvenir from Tantis. The bruise had finally faded, but the rest was yet to fully recover. And every so often a twinge sent a shockwave down his right leg.

He slid the second cup of caf to his brother, watching him curl his left hand around it. Hunter felt a wave of regret wash over him. How many times had Crosshair been tortured? How many times had he been put in those machines and for how long? Hunter had only been in them a few hours, at his best guess, and he was still feeling the ramifications from it. No wonder his brother was so wounded when he returned to them.

He looked out of the small, round window behind Crosshair. Sunlight was licking the horizon. He could hear boats departing the harbor and the chatter of the Moon-yos darting about the island. The soft scent of the weeping maya blossom drifted into the kitchen.

“Crosshair,” he started, his voice getting caught in his throat. He cleared it and started again, putting down his caf. “Crosshair…I’m sorry…for not understanding…about what they did to you…for…for all of it…” he trailed off. Perhaps it was too late for apologies.

Crosshair looked up at him, “I deserved it,” he said at last, one fat teardrop fell into his caf. His right hand started shaking ever so slightly. Hunter rested his hand on his brother’s forearm and left it there.

“Nobody deserves to be tortured, Crosshair,” he said bluntly. He thought they had moved past this. Thought that Crosshair had realized he wasn’t to blame.

“I…I submitted a report, after Kaller. Said the Padawan survived. It was my fault…”

“Crosshair, it was the inhibitor chip. None of that was your doing. You have to let it go. I have.” Hunter said softly.

Crosshair nodded, seemingly shaking off the despair that had overwhelmed him moments ago. Hunter knew he was still coming to terms with everything. It’s easy to push these thoughts away when you’re running, it’s the quiet moments when the trauma bubbles up to the surface, and this squad had a lot of that to go around.

A faint tinkling sound entered the room and Batcher padded softly over to Crosshair, resting her head on his thigh. He scratched the top of her head while absentmindedly sipping his caf. Omega may have been the one to tame the lurka hound, but she had adopted Crosshair as her minder and favorite person. Hunter smirked at the thought of Crosshair having a pet. It really was possible for people to change.

Hunter and Crosshair sat in silence, watching the sun gradually rise over the horizon. The golden light filled the room, banishing the shadows that had lingered moments before.

Hunter took a deep breath and smiled as he heard Omega shuffling through the house. She appeared in the doorway, blonde hair wild, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She had grown so much in such a short amount of time, but here, in this light, she still looked like the child they had taken from Kamino, big eyes, wide smile. She seemed to glow in the golden light of the kitchen.

“Morning, Kid” he said getting up and letting her sit opposite his brother.

Crosshair smiled at Omega then looked at Hunter. He gave an ever so slight nod, which Hunter returned.

There would always be darkness but they both knew where to look for the light.

I love this so much! So many people think Hunter didn’t evolve in the show because it wasn’t a huge change like Crosshair’s. But compare Season 7 CW Hunter to the version we get in TBB and he’s very different. He’s also a Dad figure to the rest of the Batch, even if he’s the same age. He takes that role on constantly. He’s my favorite member of the Batch. Galaxies best Dad!

Hunter's character arc: from solider to father

As I re-watch episodes of The Bad Batch, I've come to realise just how perfectly laid out Hunter's character arc from solider to father is, right from the beginning of the series, gradually developing over the course of the show.

In the pilot episode of the show, the Batch makes the choice to go back and rescue Omega and take her with them as they flee Kamino, a decision which leaves them with a new responsibility (should they choose to accept it) — a child. Then, in episode 2, we're reintroduced to Cut Lawquane from The Clone Wars, a clone who deserted from the GAR, settled down, and has a family. In a way, it's a glimpse at a possible future for Hunter (and the rest of the Batch) — he just doesn't see it yet. In fact, quite the opposite. Rather than seeing Cut's life and parenting abilities as something to learn from or aspire to, Hunter is convinced Omega would be better off with the Lawquane's instead and tries to send her off with them. The episode ends with Omega remaining with the Batch and making it clear to Hunter that she wants to stay with them, and Hunter agrees, officially accepting this new responsibility.

There is a particular conversation in the episode between Hunter and Cut that perfectly foreshadows the series' ending 👌, while also presenting Hunter with what will eventually become his desire and new path:

Hunter: So, where will you and your family go next? Cut: I suppose find a remote piece of land on a distant planet. That's all we really need. Hunter: That's the key to not being found? Cut: You wanna know how to disappear? Put being a soldier behind you and make a new life for yourself.

The rest of season sees Hunter and the rest of the Batch embracing their new responsibility as their lives begin to revolve more and more around caring for Omega, protecting her, keeping her safe, and teaching her as she becomes a crucial member of their team and family.

In season 2, we see Hunter much more directly confronted, on multiple occasions, with this question of what he really wants to do with his life and he begins to grapple with it in a more serious way. We see Hunter and Echo at odds over their differing goals and desires. While Echo wants to keep on fighting and do more to help others, Hunter doesn't have the same desire, his focus entirely on keeping his team, his family, safe — especially Omega. Neither of them are "wrong", and I think the show does a great job of presenting that; they just want two different things, which is why Echo decides to leave and pursue his goal.

In the episode 'Tribe', on Kashyyyk, we see Hunter beginning to ponder what it is he wishes for the future and we get a little glimpse, through his conversation with, Yanna, at what it is he truly wants — to leave the war behind and give Omega a safe and happy childhood.

Hunter: They're both just kids. But they don't get to be. Not in this galaxy. Yanna (translated by Tech): When a young one leaves, the trees weep. But when they return, the trees sing. As this child [Gungi] has found his new home, perhaps, one day, we all will find a new path. Hunter: Hopefully... (sighs) ...one far away from war.

Then, the episode 'Pabu' presents Hunter with just that, a secluded and safe paradise where he and the Batch could settle down and raise Omega in peace. Hunter's desire goes from a wishful hope to an actual real possibility, if he chooses it.

Hunter: Phee said the villagers here are refugees. Shep: Many, yes. Pabu has been a safe haven for those forced to flee their homes during the war and others after. Hunter: And you're not worried the Empire will show up? Shep: Why would they? We're a remote island with limited resources. But if they do, we'll manage. Some come to Pabu looking for a clean slate. A chance to start over. As a father, you couldn't ask for a better place to raise a child. Something to think about, isn't it? Hunter: You're suggesting we all stay on Pabu permanently? Shep: She seems to like it here. A little stability might do you all some good.

The season 2 finale then turns everything on its head by giving Hunter the very thing he feared. He couldn't keep his family safe. Tech is dead, and Omega is taken. With Omega captured, him and Wrecker spend their time doing whatever they can for even the smallest scrap on intel on where she may be, as they cross the galaxy over and over in search of her. She is their only priority.

Once Omega returns to them, Hunter's main focus is once again doing everything he can to keep her safe. When she is taken again, his sole focus is once more getting her back at all costs.

Once Omega is back, Hemlock dead, his project destroyed, and the fight finally over, they are all at last free to be "whatever they want". The conversation between Omega and Hunter as they both sit beneath the tree together, both finally at peace, Omega moving to rest her head against his shoulder so perfectly portrays exactly what he wants, what they both want, and finally can have. Hunter finally gets to leave his solider life behind, settle down somewhere safe and peaceful, and be a father to Omega as she enjoys the childhood he had hoped to give her. It's a beautiful, heartwarming conclusion to Hunter's character arc in the show (and we even get to see old man Hunter enter the next phase of his fatherhood journey as he watches grow up Omega set off on her own adventure 😭). ❤️❤️

It's the ending that was always coming, right from the beginning. Hunter was always going to make it to end, always going to retire and settle down, and be a father to Omega. I really love the storytelling in this show and the fact that we got such a beautiful, satisfying ending to Hunter's character arc.

Goodbye

Summary: Hunter has recently learned that he can sense Tech’s ghost and has shared that information with his family. Omega comes to terms with Tech’s death with the help of her brother.

Notes: This story follows canon and deals with Tech’s death. If you’re not comfortable reading about that I would give this story a miss. This also follows along with some of the other stories I’ve written. You can read them here: Hope; Sunrise; Sunset and Tested

Word Count: 1431

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Omega sat on her bed, holding her fallen brother’s goggles. She hadn’t done this in a while. She had been content to let them sit on her nightstand, silently watching over her. A thick layer of dust had collected on the edges of the broken glass. The light, formally glowing red, was now dark.

If she squinted, they would sometimes look whole, and she should imagine the chocolate-colored eyes behind them looking back at her. But not today.

Hunter had told them about his mission with Rex and newest encounter with Ventress. And that he had sensed Tech or Tech’s ghost or whatever it was.

Initially she had been thrilled. It was like getting him back again. Hunter had even pointed out that he was at the table, sitting with them, laughing with them. But in the dark, in the quiet, Omega realized that he wasn’t back. He wasn’t here. Not in the way she wanted.

There had always been a small part of her that had hoped. Hoped that he had found something to catch himself on, fallen into water, been saved by some miracle and now the reality of it crashed over her. He was gone. He had fallen to his death for them, and he would never show up on an idle afternoon, scratched, maimed, but alive.

A tear fell onto the goggles as this realization hit her like a fresh wave of grief.

She heard a creak outside her door and didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Are you okay,” Hunter asked softly, crossing to the bed and sitting next to her. His palms were in his lap, not wanting to intrude too directly onto her grief, but still close enough if she needed him.

Omega had always found Hunter’s lack of touch frustrating. She knew he loved her, knew he wanted to hug her, comfort her, but he wasn’t capable in the way that Wrecker was.

She sniffed in reply and dissolved, sobbing over her most prized possession, the last remnant of her long-lost brother.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hunter whispered, putting his arm around her. He squeezed her close to him, resting his chin on the top of her head and holding her. She sank into his arm, drinking in the safety and warmth. She would have been surprised by his sudden affection was she not wholly consumed with sorrow.

They stayed like that for a while in silence, except for Omega’s shuddered breaths. She felt where the tears had fallen on her cheeks, as though they were permanently etched in her skin like her brother’s tattoo. The sun was streaming into her golden room. When she finally sat up, she wiped her eyes and exhaled deeply. She looked down at the goggles, ran her finger over the shattered lens, and gently placed them on the nightstand once more.

“I thought he might come back. Hoped,” she mumbled.

Hunter nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Where are Wrecker and Crosshair?” she asked, suddenly realizing how quiet the house was.

Hunter sighed, “Wrecker went fishing to clear his head. Crosshair is painting at the crest. Said he’d be back later. It’s difficult information to…”

Hunter paused and chuckled “of course,” he said to no one. He stood up from the bed and sat on the floor facing her.

“He’s here, if you want to talk,” he said with a smile at the space he had vacated next to Omega.

“I can’t sense him the way…”

“I’ll translate,” Hunter leaned forward, took her hand and placed it on the spot next to her on the bed. “he’s here,” he said gently, sitting back down.

“I don’t feel him,” she said, staring at the nothingness next to her.

“I know,” Hunter said sadly. “He asked how you are… oh sorry. Yeah, okay Tech.” Hunter looked at her, amused. “He said I need to translate verbatim,”

Omega giggled and sat up straighter. She noticed Hunter close his eyes and lowered his head as though not to intrude into a private conversation.

“How are you, Omega,” Hunter said, his voice punctuated in Tech’s familiar rhythm.

“I’m okay…Tech,” she said, feeling silly but also lighter than she had in a while.

“I’m very…proud of how you have grown up. You are an excellent pilot,”

Omega’s eyes swam with tears, “thank you.” she looked down at her hands and across to Tech’s goggles, “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you, Tech,” she said, feeling a weight dop into her chest. She looked at Hunter whose face had crumpled.

Omega had never seen Hunter cry, although Wrecker had assured her that he did, had, many times after she was taken; When he thought no one else was around. She was aware in that moment how young her brothers were and how much they had endured in their short lives.

“I would make the same decision again and again if it meant you were safe,” Hunter as Tech said.

“Did it…hurt?” she asked, finally voicing her greatest fear.

“I didn’t feel anything, Omega. I was not and am not in pain. I am lucky that I am somehow able to watch you live your lives in peace,”

Hunter looked up at the space next to Omega and smiled.

“Are you always here?” Omega asked hopefully.

“Not always. I seem to pop in every now and then. It’s not something I control. It would be fascinating to do further research. However, in my current state that doesn’t seem possible,”

Omega giggled; Tech was always trying to discover more.  “Where are you when you’re not with us?” she asked and Hunter looked at her, surprised, as though it had never occurred to him to ask that question before.

“I seem to go to a strange, void space. It is black with white, glowing arches like some kind of ancient star map. I’m always alone but can hear other voices. It is quite an odd but not unpleasant sensation. Regardless, I much prefer to be on Pabu with you and…”

“Phee?” Omega supplied.

“Why…ah…yes…I do pop in on her from time to time,”

“Does she know?” Omega asked, directing the question at Hunter. He shook his head but kept his eyes closed and head down.

“Perhaps you can help Hunter with that particular conversation,” Hunter as Tech said.

“I’d be happy to,” Omega said.

The light was streaming through her window now, a beam of sparkling dust illuminated the space next to her and for a second, she could imagine Tech in his armor, looking down at her with a smile on his lips.

“I love you, Tech,” she said to the nothingness.

“And I you,” Hunter responded in Tech’s familiar tone.

There was a pause before Hunter raised his head and blinked open his eyes, focusing on the spot. Omega knew Tech was gone. She could see it on his face.

“Did that help?” he asked, concern in his voice.

She smiled and launched herself at him, hugging him around the neck. “Yes. Thank you.” She said, tears dripping onto his shoulder.

“I was just the translator,” he said softly. He picked himself up and wiped his hands over his face and through his hair absentmindedly.

“Should we go and see Phee?” Omega asked excitedly. She felt so light, happier than she had since she heard the news, she wanted to spread it as far as possible.

“I dunno, Kid,” Hunter said solemnly. “I’m not sure I can break anyone else’s heart right now. Maybe we wait until Crosshair and Wrecker get used to the idea.”

Omega nodded in understanding and took his hand. “you’re not breaking hearts, Hunter. You’re giving hope.” She said with a smile.

“It doesn’t feel like that,” he said quietly. He squeezed her hand twice and let go, crossing the common room to the kitchen beyond.

Omega looked back at the spot where Tech had been. At least, where she thought he had been. His goggles sat in a pool on sunlight, the broken glass which looked grey and devoid of life before glowed yellow and she gasped.

She knew she would carry the loss of him with her forever. It was burnt into her skin like a brand. But knowing he was watching, that he was proud, and that he loved her as much as she loved him, she realized that it was enough. The grief would never fully leave her, but it took up less space, knowing she could speak to him again.

“Goodbye, Tech,” she whispered into the room as she followed Hunter to the kitchen beyond.