Tech And Omega - Tumblr Posts

Hunter is mad af…

fall back into place - masterlist

on AO3 ⚘ ❀

masterlist

Description: There is no limit to the indescribable comfort he feels when Omega rests her head on his shoulder and her hair tickles his neck. This must be all that he has ever fought for.

OR

5 times the bad batch learns something from Omega and the 1 time Omega learns from them.

Rating: G or T (idek)

Part 1 - Tech

Part 2 - Echo

Part 3 - Hunter

Part 4 - Hunter pt. 2

Part 5 - Tech pt. 2

Part 6 - Omega

Whumpril Day 10: "I'm Scared."

Fandom: Star Wars The Bad Batch

Warning: Major character death

Summary: Tech and Omega are sent off to find their target for the mission. Things don't go well.

  When the batch took this mission, they knew it was dangerous. Echo had hated to ask them but the rebels needed this mission to succeed and his brothers and sister would be perfect for it. It didn't take much convincing before they agreed. After being informed they were rescuing a youngling they knew they had to.

    The mission started off smoothly. Of course it couldn't stay that way. Quickly the batch found themselves running and trying to hide. They had to survive to find the youngling after all.

    "Tech, Omega, go find the kid. Wrecker, Echo, and I will cause a diversion. Let us know when you have the youngling and we'll meet back up on the Marauder." With that they split.

    Tech knew where everything in the facility should be. He had studied the interior before they got there. The halls all looked the same but they made their way to the cell block the child was held in.

    Just as the two entered the block some stormtroopers turned the corner. Both turned around to fire. Tech focused on the troopers. Then he heard a yelp and a body hit the floor. He looked over to where his sister had been standing and realized it was her.

    Without thought, Tech quickly moved her off to the side and finished off the bucket heads. Rushing back over to her he kneeled by her side to assess her injuries. "Omega?"

    "Tech? Tech, I'm scared."

    I'm scared. The words rang through Tech's head. He knew Omega had been scared before but she never told them. The kid had walked through hell without showing her fear. She was brave and it showed. Hearing her admit to being afraid made his heart sink. "You will be fine."

    "I'm scared" she whispered. Faint crying was all that could be heard in the hall. Everything else was dead silent. It was as if time had stopped. Perhaps it had.

    "I know. I am.. also afraid" Tech admitted. "It is okay to be scared. I promise we will be okay. I'll take care of you."

    Looking at the injury, Tech knew he didn't have much time. He was surprised the shot hadn't killed her on impact.

    "Tech, I don't wanna go." Omega shook.

    "You will be alright Omega." Tech reached into one of his pouches and pulled a bacta patch out as well as some bandages. The hallway wasn't the best place to tend to the wound; it was dirty and troopers could be there any minute but there was nowhere else to move.

    He turned back to face the little girl in front of him. "Omega?" Tech spoke softly. Placing the medical supplies next to him, he reached his hand out and placed it against her neck. It felt like his own heart stopped beating. Know he knew time had stopped. He would never be the same after this moment.

    "Omega?" Tech's voice cracked. He started CPR on her. Only a few seconds later stormtroopers would enter the hall again. Tech shot them down and grabbed Omega's body. He ran to the cell the youngling was held and opened it. "Hello. I'm here to help you." Then Tech looked at the youngling. The report was wrong, the child was a padawan; a padawan he knew well.

   "Tech?" Caleb asked.

    "Hello. Now come on, we need to leave."

    Caleb looked at him for a minute before stepping closer to him. "Can I trust you?"

    "Yes, you can."

    "Who is the girl?"

    "Omega, my sister."

    "You have a sister?"

    "Yes. That is not important right now."

    Caleb walked outside of the cell. Tech grabbed him and handed him his lightsaber. "Is she okay?" Caleb asked.

    "No."

    After informing Hunter that he had found the padawan, the two ran to the Marauder. On the way they ran into more stormtroopers. Cornered Tech looked over at Caleb. He was shaking. "Are you alright?"

    "I'm scared." The boy's voice mixed with the dead girl's. Tech's head was playing tricks on him.

    "You will be fine." He may not have been able to save Omega but he wouldn't fail Caleb, not this time. Placing Omega's body beside him he looked around the corner and put together a plan to take them out. Crosshair would have been proud of the shots he made to end their lives.

    Caleb looked down at Omega's body. He realized that the girl was his age. Then he realized that she was dead. Startled he jumped back and looked over at Tech. He had finished off the soldiers and turned to pick her back up. "I'm sorry about Omega."

    Tech said nothing. The two made it back to the Marauder without any other problems. The other three were already there.

    On the ship Tech walked right past his brothers and laid Omega down on her bed. He rested the blanket over her growing cold body. Grabbing Lula the clone walked to face his brothers.

    When he walked out with Lula they knew she was gone. Tech handed the tooka doll to his brother and walked to the cockpit to pilot the ship. Caleb tried to help the family with their loss.

    Nothing would ever be the same. Tech felt trapped in that moment. For him time stopped and just couldn't start again. When someone was scared he became extremely protective over them, swearing no one would die scared under his watch. He would join Echo in the fight against the empire for that very reason. It would be a long fight and a hard one but so would healing.

@whumpril

Winter Whumperland Day 5: Ebenezer Scrooge (Time Loop)

Fandom: Star Wars The Bad Batch

Warnings: Multiple character deaths as well as suicide.

Summary: After being killed by the empire, Tech finds himself stuck in a time loop.

It had been six months after the end of the war. Tech had been with his family when the empire came to Ord Mantell.

Sitting at Cid's bar, clone troopers in gray and white armor entered. Then Crosshair had. His armor was no longer its familiar red and black.

Wrecker was the one to go down first. He pulled his gun, ready to shoot. Then he was gone. Omega leaned in closer to Tech who grabbed her unconsciously.

Echo was next. Then Hunter. Everything happened too fast. Before Tech could react he was on the floor, trying to protect Omega. Then she was gone. He had been shot in the side.

Tech looked up at

But when he opened his eyes it was morning again. He listened to the sound of Wrecker laughing and Echo telling him "don't do that! Hunter and Tech are still asleep."

That wasn't possible. They had just died didn't they? Was it all just a twisted nightmare.

What Tech knew for sure was that he needed to get up. It had all felt so real. But that was impossible. Or at least that's what Tech thought.

As the family went though their day, the clone slowly got more and more nervous. He wasn't able to shake the feeling of the nightmare. No matter what he did, even when the day seemed to be over, Tech couldn't calm down.

That was until it happened again. The clone reacted differently this time. As soon as the door opened and he heard the footsteps, he told them they needed to go. They needed to leave.

But it was too late. This time Tech had grabbed Omega sooner. He tried to get her behind the bar. As Wrecker was killed, Tech pushed Omega behind him. If anything he wouldn't let her die.

Hunter tried to move to Echo's side. He ordered Tech to take Omega and get her out of the bar.

"I'm trying" Tech shot back.

Echo shot a few of the troopers down before he was killed. As his body fell, Hunter instinctively tried to catch him. He didn't even know why he tried to. He knew he was gone.

For a moment time seemed too slow for them. Hunter sat on the ground, stunned. Then they shot him.

Tech had gotten Omega out the back door. He looked down at his comm to see what time it was. It seemed so insignificant, yet like something he should do. 2100 hours.

As the two turned the corner, Crosshair was waiting for them. Tech grabbed Omega and tried to get her out of the line of fire. Once more his efforts were in vain.

She hadn't been killed immediately. This time, Tech couldn't do anything but watch as she died. He held herz trying to figure out what to do. Crosshair had paused his attack, realizing the girl was still alive.

What was maybe thirty seconds felt like hours. Tech has never been good with the dieing. But he held her. He looked at Crosshair when she had stopped breathing and went to stand. A bullet met his skull.

Then he woke up. He didn't understand what was happening or why it was happening to him. Wrecker was laughing again.

"Don't do that! Hunter and Tech are still asleep." He heard Echo say.

It was morning again.

Tech remembered the time that the attack happened. Unnerved, he went to find Omega. When he found her he just pulled her into a hug. He only held her for a moment but she was still confused.

"Are you feeling okay Tech?" Echo asked.

"Yes" Tech answered quickly. He then walked back to his bed. What did he do about this? The day seemed to be repeated. Every time he died, the day started over. He walked back to the others.

"How about we, go somewhere" Tech proposed.

"And where should we go Tech?" Hunter asked.

"Somewhere."

"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting kinda funny?" Wrecker stood to walk over to him.

"Yes I am."

"We could explore more of Ord Mantell?" Omega said excitedly.

"No!" Tech said loudly. "How about the, near by moon?"

The others looked at each other. "how about we do that tomorrow?" Echo said.

"No. We should go now."

"How about we go see if Cid needs something?" Hunter suggested.

"Fine" Tech answered. Then the group left the Marauder. Cid told them to run a few on world errands for her and despite Tech's protests, they did.

2100 hours came around quickly. For an hour before that, Tech has been trying to get them to leave the bar. But Wrecker was having fun talking to someone, Echo and Hunter were throwing darts, and Omega had been talking to Cid until a few minutes ago.

When Tech hears the footsteps, he pulled his gun, ready. As soon as he could confirm it was the empire, he started shooting. It helped this time.

They got to Cids office before they started to die. Tech couldn't remember what happened when he woke up.

"Don't do that! Hunter and Tech are still asleep." Echo sounded annoyed as he tried to get Wrecker to stop whatever he had been doing.

Over and over Tech tried to stop them from dying. Over and over he failed them. It felt like fighting a fire with matches. As he grew tired he tried to find different ways to deal with the attacks. He tried almost every angle he could to get them off Ord Mantell. No matter what they seemed to stay.

It had been so long. Why had he been chosen for this? What even could cause such a time loop and why were they so important? It had to be something like the will of the force but why were they the ones to live?

"Don't do that! Hunter and Tech are still asleep."

Tech didn't get up this time. He had tried and tried and tried. After a few hours of trying to come up with a plan, he walked out to the others. He tried to get them to listen to him. He tried to get them off world. But they were still at the damn bar by 2100 hours.

Before the others knew it, they were going out the back door. The fight was taken to the streets. One by one, they fell. First Wrecker, then Echo, then Hunter, then Omega. It was just him and Crosshair.

Diving behind some building Tech, with shacking hands pulled his gun to his head. Every memory of every attempt flooded his head. Before Crosshair got the chance to take him out once more, he shot.

He woke up on the Marauder as he knew he would. He fell asleep for a while.

Hours after he was supposed to wake up, he walked to the cockpit. He made sure everyone was in the ship before simply taking off. He didn't care when they asked where he was taking them.

When Cid commed the group to warn them to not go back to Ord Mantell, the batch asked Tech how he had known and asked why he didn't just tell them. Tech shook. Even though he wanted to explain, it all sounded too crazy.

Instead he walked back to his bed and laid down. He tossed his gun to the other side of the room, trying to find the strength to not circum to the memories of something that no longer existed.

The batch watched him carefully for a while. Slowly Tech tried to recover. He felt like he had.

Now he was hanging off of a rail car. As he realized what he had to do, Tech thought of the cruel irony of the situation. He had saved them so many times by dying. It was time to do it again.

But something told him he wouldn't be waking up again. This was it. Tech had saved them all so many times just to die one final time.

As he shot the only part of the car that held the other on to the rail, he sighed. Maybe he would just get to rest this time.

“Did they teach you plan 72?”

Imagine Omega learning all the plans during one of her lessons with Tech, and the sheer horror on her face when she discovers what plan 99 entials. She’ll turn to him, terrified, and ask “we won’t have to use that plan, will we?”. He’ll look at her for a long moment, before eventually saying “I should certainly hope not”. Reassured by this, she’ll turn back to the data-pad and continue memorising the rest of the plans. But Tech will continue to stare at her for a long time afterwards, brown eyes sad behind his goggles. Because he knows, deep down, if the situation ever came to it;

He’d use plan 99 in a heartbeat.

OVERBOIL

Summary: Tech and Omega have crashed in a wayward escape, and are trapped in an overheating hunk of metal. Omega quickly dips off into the deep end, and Tech can do nothing but wait for help. Genfic, father daughter bonding, oneshot

CW: Hyperthermia, depictions of panic attacks, grief/illness, thoughts of death, delirium, hallucinations

Logic is wonderfully rigid and steadfast. It exists in neither fact nor opinion, but rather, a strict set of rules or principles supported, justified, and validated by numerous things that exist in the natural wavelength of life and experiences. It is not something you allow yourself to fight against, and if you do, you present yourself as borderline delusion or incredibly pugnacious. Though everyone has their own set of logic they chose to follow, the majority tends to boil down to similar beliefs natural to the human psyche and the natural world.

It is the opposite of human emotion, too tumultuous and aggravating and confusing, bleeding pain and torment but also love and joy and fear, which is far too difficult to base thoughtful decisions in. It’s why Tech enjoys the steady beat of logic rather than trying to navigate the maze that is human emotion. It’s easier to navigate, easier to follow and abide by, and it provides the structure he craves to manage himself, while emotions tend to send him into a spiral if he dwells too hard, whether the feeling be positive or negative.

However, in this very instance, he finds that logic is failing him. It’s easy to follow when the ramshackle carrier that was supposed to be his way out fails and careens towards the ground, and he must crash it safely. It’s easy to follow as he sends out a static filled distress signal and follows steps to save himself. It provides guidelines for what he must do as he waits for rescue.

It does nothing for him as Omega bloats with heat and cries sweat, shiny and stick and beading off her brow, soaking her clothes, turning her hair into a messy mop of dirty blond that clings to her face and oils her skin. It does nothing as her eyes glaze and she cannot stand so she instead leans her feverish body in his lap, mumbling strings of words that sink further and further into a despairing pit of nonsense. Unlike nearly everything Tech encounters, it does not provide him the next steps.

Logic tells him Omega is suffering from hyperthermia. The internal temperature of the crashed ship is slowly hiking to unbearable conditions, and Omega’s young body, untouched and green with new environments and temperatures from her long stay on Kamino, is handling it abysmally. She has gone from spasming muscles, twitching and pulsing underneath her skin and a dry tongue to nearly intelligible in under an hour as the heat sinks into her mind and fries her brain.

She lays in his lap now, twitching and soaked, the heat rash on her neck glistening, blistered, and red as his glares angrily from underneath her collar. Her eyes are half lidded and her tongue lolls.

Logic does not tell him how to comfort this frightened girl, tactile and fearful and crying despite her delusional state, falling deeper and deeper into terror as her grasp on reality slips between his fingers, and logic does not tell him, nor prepare him, for the carnage that has run rampant in his mind or the agonizing feeling of uselessness and dread that spreads across his chest like wildfire.

“I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t please don’t please don’t,” Omega warbles from his lap, suddenly shoving herself into his ribs, trembling. “I can’t do it I can’t do it.”

Sorrow needles and spins in his heart and nausea twists in stomach as Omega grips to him, clearly lost in horror as she babbles yet again about something Tech doesn’t understand, and he lets his fingers ghost her cheeks. She feels like a hot stove and his fingers slip in her sweat. She needs water and cool air Tech cannot provide. “You’re alright, Omega. Hunter will be here to assist us with our predicament shortly.”

Omega keens and tears leak from her eyes, scare and small as the ship sucks all moisture from her body. Her arms twitch and her leg spasms and she cries again.

No matter how others may think when they meet him, how bluntly he may seem to regard others emotional states or how others stare when he answers most things with callous fact and seems undeterred by tragedy, Tech does feel. Tech feels deeply. He feels to the point where it tears him inside out and floods all else with whatever emotion has clung to him. He simply does not know how to understand them or feel them the way other people have deemed correctly. He cannot showcase them in the way others want to see it. He cannot feel the right way.

Omega torments him how she is. It rips him to shreds and makes him sick to see her react so poorly and dangerously as time ticks on and on with no sign of rescue. It blooms deep in his heart and grows with each word she whispers and each time she cried and twitches and scratches herself. He’s choking on grief that he cannot comprehend.

Logic tells him Omega will die soon.

His head pounds and sweat drips from his lashes. Underneath Omegas frail body, his muscles ripple and his skin burns with rash. His heart is frantic and rams against his rib cage in a painful flurry, and he’s light as thirst claws at his throat and his vision blurs until he blinks it away, but he has time. Tech thinks he has a few hours. His body is much more apt at the heat and strain than his little sister who has not suffered so much as a hunger pang or a cold. Experience is plastered with scars on his skin and Omega is a fresh slate not yet marred with the world.

He tries to keep track of her rapid, gasping breathing with a hand on her rib cage and with the other, he attempts to fan her to provide any sort of relief. Logic screams in his head that this does nothing, nothing at all, and he cannot prolong her lifespan with frantic attempts to cool the girl with humid, sticky air that seeps into her skin and fogs her thoughts.

Her mouth gapes like a fish, and Tech jerks as the muscles in his torso flail and writhe with heat. Her breathing is so shallow it is frightening, and he can’t but help imagining her little lungs like a popped balloon, trying so feverishly to suck in air only for it to be torn out in a vicious manner. He tries to snuff the thought out as he drums his fingers on Omega’s side, to the beat of her struggling heart and the count of her breaths, torn between trying to be soothed by the sound of her living or the sound of her dying. It is two sides of the same coin. He does not know which to believe.

When Omega splutters and convulses into herself, Tech murmurs simple words to soothe and tries to comfort with his hands, with the touch he knows Omega unconsciously seeks from them all and the touch he isn’t quite sure how to properly give in the way the rest seem to seamlessly. When she chokes and coughs and sinks into his lap like a rag doll, the grief that envelops him like a storm is achingly familiar and exhausting.

But when the girl’s labored breathing and incoherent words fall deathly silent and she no longer bats against his body, Techs blood turns to ice and the whirlwind of thoughts stop as he waits for it to begin again, for horror and pain to once again take over his mind and replace this new, sudden spiral of fear.

“Omega? Omega!” Tech shouts, digging his palm into her side to feel for her lungs, for her heart, suddenly lightheaded and throat burning with bile that stems from either sickening fear or the oppressive heat that saps his body of strength.

The girl does not answer. Tech flips her around and holds her head to feel for her pulse, fingers slipping in her sweat and trembling with terror as he begs and pleads for a heartbeat. Omegas face is pale and sickly and shiny, her mouth agape and her eyes half lidded and bright red. Saliva dribbles from her mouth. Her cannot hear her breathe. He cannot tell exhales from the hot air.

The only sign that she is alive is the crazed beat of her heart that pulses against his fingers.

A rigorous shake brings her back to the world.

“Shhhhtopp,” she mumbles tearfully, eyes beaded with the salty stuff, and tries to wiggle away, but Tech holds her tighter. She had passed out. He cannot allow her to slip into the unconscious world again. He will lose her. Her body is surrendering to the heat.

Omega stares up at him with baleful eyes, and her hand drops back down to her chest. Techs vision blurs and he fights vomit as his stomach twists and cinches in a blistering dance of pain. His heat rash throbs as he hoists Omega into his arms, close to his chest and pleads with her.

“Omega,” he starts, his voice clipping, and his raises a hand in front of her face. “Omega, please tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

She blinks at him. Tears fall from her eyes.

“Omega, tell me!”

Her head drops as her neck muscles spasm and give way, and Tech careens to catch her. Her breathing is inaudible. Her body is dead weight in his hands. Tech sobs her name and shakes her again. Omega walks the dangerous line of purgatory.

She is falling, and he cannot tether the net to catch her. Omega is an acrobat falling from tightrope and he is her safety net, ripped and bruised and desperate as she slips through the cracks.

He shakes her again. Her head snaps back and forth with the motion but Tech can’t bring himself to stop. He must wake her up. He must. If she stays asleep any longer she will surely give into the darkness that feeds on her illness and be lost to him for the rest of his life. He asks her again and again for count, to tell him the number and to count his fingers that are slick with her sweat and moving at a rapid pace to try and keep her attention. A half life comes back to her eyes and she keens, batting at him with soft hands, her back muscles cinching tightly together and she seizes painfully.

A shaking hand is placed in front of her eyes. “Omega, count my fingers. Tell me please,”

He can the hear the beginnings of hiccuping in his voice, so choked with dreadful emotion, but Omega does stare lazily as his twitching hand and tries to touch it. Her lips move but words are intelligible, and Tech breathes in a mix of relief and fear as he waves his hand in front of her, pleading and whispering and begging for help. It’s so hot. It’s so, so hot.

Omega smacks his arm again, and he tries to guide her hand away. Instead, she babbles and spittle runs down her chin and she swings forward to hammer her wet fingers on his wrist. She hiccups and slips and ends up across his arm, and Tech can see that the heat rash has crept down her back and it’s bleeding though her shirt. He gently attempts to lay her across his lap to make her more comfortable. Omega fights and whines and her arms begin to spasm uncontrollably.

Her face screws up with sheer pain and she begins to weep, failing her arms as a flurry of pulsations ravages her body, but no tears can be pulled from her eyes. The oppressive heat has sucked all away and won’t even grant her the release of tears. She drops again and Tech continues to ask her how many fingers he is holding up. She has yet to answer.

But she doesn’t need too. As the attack of spasms begins to seep from Omega’s ruined muscles, and her eyes once again begin to slid shut, there is a sudden torrent of air that sweeps through them both, glancing across his sweat and tussling Omega’s soaked shirt. The air is foreign and fresh and wonderfully cold, dear God, it’s cold, and it’s enough to shock Omega into snapping open her eyes, glancing about with a feverish fervor, and Tech tries to blink away the wavish heat and see clearly.

Black and red tell him all he needs to know. An arm curls around his neck and weight is lifted from his lap and he breathes, truly breathes one more and collapses himself into his own safety net, into the secure and chilled arms of his brother that freeze his skin and wipe his oiled hair from his face.

“Omega-“ he starts, voice hoarse and he coughs, trying to point, but it’s all too blurry to tell as tears full his eyes and the world meshes into plentiful colors and glorious nonsense. The breeze hits him and he sobs.

“We got her.” His brother says, hoisting him up onto jelly like legs and securing his torso to his, gluing them together like like wet cloth. “The ships prepared. She will be okay. We got here in time.”

It’s not enough for Tech and he gasps. “She passed out and I couldn’t keep her awake I couldn’t-“ and his knees buckle beneath him, hands on the cold dirt and he can’t breathe as the true realization hits him and he heaves. His stomach twists and bile burns his throat and vomit spills from his chapped lips. He’s crashing and crying and he can’t get a grip.

“Tech, Tech” is sternly said, rough and commanding and his brother sweeps into view, gripping and grounding and speaking. A hand is thrust into his face and fleshy fingers wiggle and blur. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He counts.

“Four.”