Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You requested me?” Crosshair asks, hands clasped behind his back. The mission to Onderon was a success. He doesn’t know what more Rampart could want from him.

Rampart sits back in his chair, regarding Crosshair with something cool and calculating in his gaze. “I am sure you are aware that the Empire does not want for its soldiers to be torn by outside loyalties,” he says. “We must be strong to maintain order.”

For some inexplicable reason, his throat is dry. “Yes, sir,” he replies carefully. What does this have to do with him?

“All soldiers of the Empire will have their soulmarks removed,” Rampart explains. He’s studying Crosshair, and as the words sink in, Crosshair realizes why. It takes all his willpower to refrain from pressing his right arm against his side as though to protect it. “It has been established that bonded soulmates will always choose each other first. That will leave room for disloyalty, and we cannot afford to have disloyalty.”

Right because good soldiers follow orders.

And yet, Crosshair cannot deny the instinctive need to run, to protect himself, to protect his bond. It thrums in his chest, bright and alive, the only thing he has left of his brothers. But he is a good soldier, and if Rampart has ordered him to go through the procedure, then he will.

“Understood, sir,” Crosshair answers, as is expected of him.

He has heard the rumors. The regs don’t talk to him, of course, but he has heard snatches of conversation here and there. Talk of how the Empire frowns on soulmate bonds. He has also heard the horror stories of how soulmates do not survive the loss of their bond. One dies and the other follows soon after, unable to live with the emptiness. But those are legends. They could not possibly be accurate, because the Empire would not doom its army to a certain death.

He reports to the medbay as he was ordered, the right sleeve of his body glove pulled back to reveal the mark. He hates how exposed it makes him feel. Soulmarks are a personal thing, not meant to be shared with or touched by others. The first inklings of unease wiggle in when he’s strapped down. This is a simple, quick procedure, right? He’s been in the labs so many times. He knows how to be still.

Nala Se is there, and there is something in her expression that he can’t read and which he doesn’t like at all. She is always so calm, but now… now, she seems almost upset. She doesn’t say anything to him as she lifts the syringe and releases the compound inside onto his arm.

It’s cold. And thick. That’s the first thing he registers.

And then, all he knows is pain.

Burning, searing agony like nothing he has ever felt before tears through him. It feels like it’s ripping him apart, like it’s unmaking him entirely. Whatever control he once possessed is gone in the face of this pain and the clawing need to get away from it. He struggles and screams, but the restraints hold him down, keeping him secure as the compound does its work.

Vaguely, he can see the mark bubbling, disappearing in little whisps of glittering smoke –

And then, it’s gone, and something inside of him snaps.

The backlash is harsh and cold, and he tries to breathe, tries to –

But darkness claims him.

When he wakes up, he’s in his bunk.

Everything hurts. His body aches, and his throat is sore from screaming. But nothing can compare to the burning agony in his arm. He twitches his fingers, but he can hardly feel it. He can hardly feel anything. It’s as though the limb was burned away entirely, and with a jolt of panic, he turns his head to look at it. It’s still there, but it feels wrong. Clumsy. He can’t – he can’t feel in it.

How is he supposed to use his rifle now? How can he be a sniper if his right arm will no longer function??? Rampart lied to him. The entire Empire lied to him. His only purpose is to be a good soldier, a sniper. What good is his sight if he can’t use it to his advantage?

His body aches as though he was on a difficult mission and took a beating. Maybe to within an inch of his life. He feels nauseous from the pain, and he’s sweaty and trembling. He doesn’t need to test his limbs to know that his legs won’t be able to hold him right now. He hasn’t felt this sick in… well, ever, and normally, if he was injured, his brothers would be here, worrying over him, fussing over him –

And he doesn’t need them. Of course, he doesn’t need them, they left him, but he thinks – he thinks it might be nice to not feel quite so alone.

It takes a monumental amount of effort to lift his arm so he can better see what’s left of – it. Vividly, he remembers the shimmery swirl of the mark vaporizing. The skin where the mark once used to be is red and inflamed. He can tell it’ll heal into a messy, distorted scar that won’t even resemble the skull that was once there. It fills him with the need to claw it off, rip off the skin so it can maybe be smooth like it used to be before they cemented their bond.

He drags the fingers of his left hand over the spot, gasping from the wave of painpainpain that slams into him, leaving him gasping for air that can’t seem to reach his lungs.

He’s going to die here, isn’t he.

His chest hurts, a burning throbbing void of nothingness where the bond used to be. It’s – it’s gone. It’s gone. They took the mark, and the bond broke with it.

It’s gone, gone like everything he used to have, gone like his brothers.

His eyes sting, and he furiously swipes at the tears that manage to escape. He is not so pathetic that he’ll cry over it. He isn’t a cadet anymore. But the aching hurt in his chest is there, not only from the void that is gnawing at his soul but also from the grief of what he lost. It feels as though the world has lost its color, and he turns his gaze back to the marred skin on his arm.

It hurts, it hurts –

And they’re not here. They should be here. Their proximity alone would be a balm even if he can’t feel them the way he once could. It would help –

But they left, they left –

They left him here. They left him to his fate, abandoned him to face the removal of his mark and destruction of his soulbonds. Do they feel it? The agony? The emptiness? The bitter certainty that everything is just slightly off-kilter, broken in a way that can never be repaired? Probably not. They still have each other, and whatever echoes they might feel from him will be nothing compared to the contentment of having their soulmates close.

He can imagine it, can picture them touching each other, running soothing fingers over each other’s bare skin, brushing over the mark to tap into the bond and feel. They’ll forget about him altogether and move on. He is no longer one of them. He’s been cut off from them entirely. There are three of them left. They won’t face the emptiness that he does, that any soulmate does.

They… were unique. The four of them. Four soulmates instead of two. It was something the Kaminoans were surprised – and fascinated – by. They had four.

And now they have three…

And he has no one.

Crosshair grits his teeth, forcing himself to shift his position and shove thoughts of his traitorous brothers away. Maybe it’s a good thing the mark was removed. He doesn’t need them anymore. They abandoned him anyway. What good would it be for him to forever long for them, the other pieces of his soul, when they’ll never care enough to miss him or come back?

At least now, he won’t need to waste a thought on where they are. The mark is gone, the bond is gone. They’re gone. Permanently gone from his life. That’s a good thing. They were traitors, and he wasn’t. He won’t waste time dwelling on them. He won’t think about how this would never have happened if they’d stayed. The Empire wouldn’t have broken their bond if they were all loyal. It was only because they left that this happened.

… If he survives, of course.

Right now, he doesn’t know that he will. … But he will survive, right??? The Empire wouldn’t have done it if it would kill him.

And yet, the doubts wiggle in and in his current state of agony and misery, he can’t shake the unwanted thoughts from creeping up to smother him.

He knows that no one survives a soulmate’s death, especially if they’re bonded. The severing of the bond breaks something, and the survivor withers and dies, their life leaking through the broken shards of their bond until they’re gone as well. But – but they didn’t die. Nor did he. The mark is gone, and the bond broken, but it – it’s different… right?

It has to be different. He doesn’t want to die here.

He doesn’t want to die alone.

***

It’s a normal evening on Ord Mantell. The Batch is eating together. They haven’t decided yet whether they should work for Cid. Hunter expects it’s an inevitability. At some point, they’ll need more credits. They’re already running so low. If they didn’t have the kid, Hunter wouldn’t hesitate, but he has to think about Omega. She’s only a kid. He doesn’t feel right dragging her along on undoubtedly dangerous missions like the one they already ran for Cid.

The last thing he wants is to put Omega in danger. … That is, in worse danger than she’s already in.

He tries to focus on that because at least this is something he can fix. This is something he can be good at. He was trained to lead them, even if he hasn’t done the best job of it. His chest twinges dully, an aching throb reminding him that one of his bonded is too far away. He tries not to think about how it must be for Echo, who is always apart from Rex. Bonded soulmates aren’t supposed to be apart. They can be, and they will survive, but the legends say that the gnawing need to find their soulmate will slowly grow. A pressure in the back of their mind that never goes away.

The shock hits him all at once, radiating outward from his chest down to his arm. His breath catches in his lungs, his half-eaten ration bar falling from his suddenly numb fingers as he touches his forearm. He can still feel the mark pulsing, but it’s different. He can’t – he can’t feel Crosshair. He can’t – he – Crosshair is gone –

The only reason for a soulmate to be gone is if –

No, no, nonono –

Not Crosshair. Please, not Crosshair –

Distantly, he can hear someone calling his name, but it’s not until Tech’s hands are cupping his face that Hunter snaps back to himself. Tech’s face is blurry from unshed tears that Hunter forces himself to hold back. Please –

“Hunter, listen to me,” Tech says, thumb brushing insistently over Hunter’s cheekbone. The sensory input forces himself to focus on Tech instead of the spiraling despair in his own mind. “Breathe,” he all but orders. “Breathe with me. You must calm down.” In between the lines, Hunter can hear the you’re scaring Omega.

He nods jerkily, swallowing, as he tries to take slower, steadier breaths to match Tech’s.

“Focus,” Tech whispers, and his voice now is just for Hunter. He rests their foreheads together, and Hunter leans desperately into his soulmate’s touch. He needs it. The skittering, humming warmth that always accompanies closeness with one of his bonded is not quite as strong as normal, and he tries not to let himself tumble back into the panicked despair of earlier.

“He’s not gone,” Tech adds, and Hunter nearly startles. He’s so afraid to hope, but he trusts Tech implicitly, and he reaches deep into himself, seeking the string that ties him to Crosshair –

And finds that Tech is right.

It’s still there. Weak and distant but there, which means that whatever happened to Crosshair, he is at least still alive. Hunter clings to that, battling down the need to storm back to Kamino and demand to know where his bonded is, no matter the consequences to all of them.

Breathe.

Slow, deep breaths.

He lets his eyes fall shut as he clings to the weak link that still bonds them together despite everything. Crosshair is still alive. He’s alive.

“He’s– okay.” Tech’s voice wavers on the last word, as though uncertain if it’s the correct one.

It’s not.

Whatever happened to Crosshair, if it hurt Hunter this badly, it must be even worse for him. Hunter tries not to think about it, but he cannot stop the years of ingrained need to worry over his brothers from gnawing at him. Crosshair made his choice on Kamino. Even with the chip influencing him, he hadn’t turned against them… until he did. If Crosshair has chosen to side with the Empire, nothing they do will dissuade him. He is stubborn, and once, Hunter loved that quality no matter how much it frustrated him.

Now… now it’s Crosshair’s stubbornness and arrogance that has torn them apart.

But Hunter still misses him. Still needs him. He needs to hear Crosshair’s heart beating in sync with his own, needs to drown in his scent, needs to feel his body close. He needs him.

Tech leans in, tilting his head as he brushes their lips together. It’s a gentle, chaste kiss, one that is perfectly decent for the pair of little eyes undoubtedly watching, so Hunter doesn’t know why it nearly breaks him and brings him to tears.

His hand grips the back of Tech’s neck as he pulls him closer, letting Tech support him for a moment while offering to him whatever comfort he can. Crosshair was their littlest brother, and the burden fell on Hunter and Tech the most to protect him.

They failed.

Tech kisses him again, a little deeper but still not the way they’d kiss if they were alone. It’s enough. It will have to be enough. Even feeling Tech’s body under his, even feeling Tech’s length inside of him, even if all four of them were together, Hunter knows that will never sate the yearning in his soul to be reunited with his missing mate.

Tech pulls back, eyes scanning Hunter’s face as he checks if Hunter is okay before he goes to Wrecker’s side. Hunter could listen in, but he doesn’t, trying to focus on sorting through his jumbled thoughts and feelings and wondering what he did wrong that pushed Crosshair to turn on them.

“Are you okay?” Omega asks softly, her small hand resting on his.

Reflexively, Hunter turns his hand over to take hers. “I’ll be fine,” he says roughly. He doesn’t believe it, and from the worried look on her face, she doesn’t believe it, either.

Echo steps up next to him, fingers curling on Hunter’s shoulder. He doesn’t talk, but the way his hand slips to rub the back of Hunter’s neck, words aren’t needed. Echo’s presence soothes him, too, and Hunter all but melts into the touch. Echo might not be one of their bonded, but he’s still theirs in every way that matters.

Except one.

They don’t talk about how Rex is Echo’s soulmate, but he still chose to join them. When they extended the offer for him to join, they didn’t know Echo had a soulmate. They didn’t realize it until they saw the handprint on his chest. They hadn’t intended to take Echo from his soulmate, and they certainly had not deliberately meant to seduce him, but it just… happened. It happened, and they all felt – and still feel – some guilt over it, but Echo didn’t seem to mind. He only assured them that it was fine and that among the regs, it’s common for bonded pairs to also be close with others. It went against everything they’ve ever known and felt, but they still accepted it hesitantly.

Echo’s hand is warm and grounding. He doesn’t need to say I’m here for Hunter to feel it in every fiber of his being. He watches as Wrecker cuddles Tech closer, holding him the way he once would have held Crosshair as he tries to come to terms with being unable to feel the sniper the way he once used to.

The ache is still there, more pronounced than before.

Crosshair is gone. He’s supposed to be here… but he’s not, and Hunter doesn’t know when – or if – they’ll ever see him again.

***

It takes a few rotations for the worst of the pain to recede. It’s never gone. Crosshair feels as though he lost a piece of himself – and he did. He lost most of his soul. It hurts fiercely – worse than a blaster burn – when he prods at it, so he tries to avoid touching the mark or poking at the emptiness inside of him. It hurts too much, a raw, bleeding wound that is still not healing. Maybe it’ll never heal. Maybe this is just his new normal.

He tries not to dwell on the ache, on the bond he had and lost. He tries harder still to stop himself from watching the other regs who are around. Were their marks removed, too? Probably, if he had to guess, but he doesn’t know that. For some, it’s obvious in the way they keep absently touching a certain spot and in their empty eyes. For others…

Maybe Crosshair wasn’t a special exception, but it doesn’t stop him from watching and wondering. Do they still hurt like he does? He can’t imagine they would. He and the Batch were always different. Defective even in their soul bond. He didn’t lose his other half like the regs did. He lost three-quarters of himself. There is almost nothing of him left behind. He is only a fragment of who he used to be.

The thought fills him with bitterness.

The Kaminoans thought they were special. He thought they were special. When their marks appeared, identical skulls on their forearms, the Kaminoans took them to test it. Crosshair still remembers vividly the delighted excitement he’d felt when they got the confirmation that they were each other’s soulmates. It was unusual. They were unusual, and they loved it.

The first thing they did was put their marking on their uniforms – and later, their armor. They wanted everyone to know they belonged together. They were so proud of it, smug to prove to the regs that no matter what the regs had said to them, they were each other’s. Crosshair thinks a part of him had always known that. Even before they got their own barracks, he was always most comfortable with his batchmates. They were meant to be together, bound by fates they cannot understand.

None of them were surprised when Hunter decided to tattoo the skull on his face. He’d tried to get the others to do it, too, not as elaborately, perhaps, but something. Tech and Wrecker declined, so it was Hunter and Crosshair who did it together. They tattooed each other. They were so happy –

Crosshair cuts the thought off, shaking his head to clear it. No. No. He shouldn’t be thinking about them. They’re traitors. They’re gone. It doesn’t matter anymore.

But even when he goes on missions again, his gaze is drawn to the regs, and he wonders.

He wonders if they feel the same aching emptiness that he does. It gnaws at him, threatening to devour him entirely. He’s never been apart from his brothers after they bonded, not for long. But the regs… they were never guaranteed to even meet their soulmates much less bond to them. And even if they did, chances were high that they’d never be in the same battalion, much less company. How did they handle the ache? The gnawing need to find their soulmate and stay with them?

… For that matter, how did Echo handle being away from Rex? He never talked about it, and as far as Crosshair knows, Echo never saw Rex in person after Anaxes except once. Echo could have stayed with his soulmate… but he chose to join them instead. He can’t understand it.

And obviously, Crosshair is now better off without the bond and the mark – even though it hurts – but he can’t shake the question from his mind. Without the bond, Crosshair no longer has to worry about being so dependent on someone else. He won’t have to fear losing them, being betrayed by them. It’s just him, and he doesn’t need anyone else. That would be a weakness, and Crosshair cannot afford to be weak.

He tells himself that repeatedly, but the questions still creep back in.

The doubts. The loneliness. He’s never been alone inside his own body. Even before they cemented the bond, it was always there, a little warmth in his chest that told him his soulmate was out there. It grew after their mark appeared and then grew further when they settled it.

How did Echo handle it?

Crosshair never asked. He assumed it was a sensitive subject, so he didn’t push, but a part of him wishes he had. It would be useful to have someone’s advice.

Why did Echo even join them? He could have declined their offer and gone home with Rex. He could have said something throughout the whole time the four of them awkwardly tried to seduce him. He could have stopped Hunter when he had Echo pressed up against the door of their barracks where he kissed him for the first time. He didn’t say anything when Crosshair – and later Tech – joined them. He didn’t stop Wrecker from pulling off his top, either.

They’d frozen then when they saw the blue handprint on his chest. Crosshair knows they were all remembering the moment when Rex touched him right there before he left, and they knew.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter had spluttered, stumbling back a few steps, wide-eyed. None of them were able to look away from the soulmark. “I– we– we didn’t realize–”

“You could have told us you were bonded to Rex,” Tech added in, voice subdued.

They all knew that touching someone in an active bond is something that just isn’t done. The marks become more pronounced when active, no longer as faint as they are when they first appear. And for whatever reason, Echo didn’t stop them from touching him, even though he was bonded.

Echo had only stiffened, eyes going a little distant for a moment. At the time, Crosshair thought it might be guilt, but then Echo had looked at them, and Crosshair could still see the heat and desire in his gaze. “It’s different in the 501st,” he told them. “Bonded pairs aren’t always exclusive. They often have other partners, too.”

Looking at his brothers, Crosshair knew they weren’t willing to accept it readily – it’s against everything they’ve ever felt and believed. The guilt was there, and Echo’s reassurance alone couldn’t chase it away.

“If you’re sure,” Hunter said, careful and uncertain.

Echo had nodded, his human hand pressing against Hunter’s chest. “It’s okay,” he’d replied.

They never discussed it again, but Crosshair thinks he is not the only one who felt guilt even afterwards. Sometimes, he wondered if the guilt wasn’t because they’d pulled Echo into their relationship, but because it felt so right to have him there. He never felt like an outsider. He felt like theirs and even entertaining that thought felt like a desecration of the bond Echo has with Rex.

A small part of Crosshair wonders if the ruined mark and broken bond is fate’s punishment for him. It was his idea to have Echo join them. They hadn’t intended to take Echo from his soulmate. They hadn’t even known. Echo said it was fine, but the legends they heard of the importance of soulbonds were always there in the backs of their minds. They hadn’t intended to take Echo from his soulmate, and they certainly had not deliberately meant to seduce him, but it just… happened.

It happened, and if Crosshair hadn’t pushed Hunter to extend the offer, Echo would never have been a part of them.

Is this his fate then? Separated from his soulmates the way he took Echo from his?

He doesn’t want to think about it.

It felt so right for Echo to be with them. They felt whole. Complete. But Echo wasn’t theirs. He was never meant to be theirs, but even so, they loved him even though it was forbidden… and he would like to think that Echo loved them, too.

They weren’t Rex. They never could be, but –

But they still loved each other.

Crosshair pushes away the memory, and the bitter longing that comes with it. He doesn’t want to think about them, and they have Echo. Echo felt as though he made them complete, and even with Crosshair gone, he expects the same is still true. Their bond is severed. He’s undoubtedly the only one who can even feel it.

They still have each other…

And they still have their stolen soulmate to complete them.

It’s fine. He doesn’t need them anyway.

***

At first, Hunter had thought the emptiness might fade in time. There’s a saying that time heals all wounds… except for soulmate ones apparently. It’s not getting better. If anything, it’s getting worse, enough so that Hunter saw Wrecker holding Crosshair’s helmet once and crying. He doesn’t know how to help Wrecker or Tech when he’s falling apart, too. He does his best, but in the end, it’s Echo who does what Hunter can’t.

Echo is stronger than Hunter – or more accurately, he’s not affected by the loss of Crosshair the way the rest of them are – and he’s the one who offers the three of them what they’re unable to give each other. He checks on them daily, touching them freely and even hugging them sometimes. The freely offered comfort is… different from what they’re used to, but it’s more than welcome. Hunter craves it, and even after everything that’s happened, even though Echo isn’t their soulmate, his presence still soothes Hunter. It still feels right to have Echo close. It doesn’t erase the ache of Crosshair’s absence, but it makes it more bearable.

He wonders how Echo handled being away from Rex for so long, never seeing him, never knowing if he’s okay. And now, he doesn’t even know where he is. Reports say Rex is dead, but if he was, then Echo would have felt it. He’d be fading from them the way soulmates always do when their bonded dies. He never talks about it, and Hunter almost envies that strength. Hunter always makes sure to hug Echo extra-long, as though his presence will somehow make up for the way that Rex is gone. It won’t, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

Omega tries to help, too, and Hunter doesn’t mind cuddling her, either. It’s not like when Echo touches him – Omega relies on him in a way Echo doesn’t – but it’s still nice. Comforting.

Hunter doesn’t know which of them is most shocked when Rex contacts them. He feels the way Echo’s heart speeds up, and his soft, surprised inhale when Tech accepts the call and the hologram appears. Rex warns them about the chips and suggests they go to Bracca to remove them. He promises to send the coordinates and information in a few rotations.

“Will you meet us there?” Hunter asks, more for Echo’s sake than their own. Maybe they can’t get Crosshair back, but if Echo can get his soulmate back, it will be worth it. Even if Echo chooses to leave and go with Rex – which he should – Hunter will be happy knowing that Echo is happy.

Rex pauses. “I can’t,” he answers, shaking his head. Hunter thinks his eyes are lingering on Echo, but it’s hard to tell over a hologram. “Not right now. I’ll drop by when I can.”

They talk for a few more minutes, and Hunter steps back a bit to give Echo space to speak to Rex. He expected Rex would come personally. Whatever Rex is involved in is undoubtedly dangerous, which would make meeting a risk, but this is for his soulmate. After having been apart for so long, the yearning must be turning into a burning agony. He doesn’t know how either of them could bear it, but maybe – maybe the regs are just different.

He wouldn’t know. The bond he has with his brothers is all-consuming, but they’re… There’s four of them, not two.

They go to Bracca.

Rex isn’t there, but Crosshair is.

Hunter reaches into himself, searching desperately for the link, trying to feel it, trying to feel him, but it’s still just as empty and weak as it was before.

And then, Crosshair is in the room, and Hunter almost can’t focus on the risks when his mind is filled with a screaming, clawing, burning need. Hunter can see him, hear him, but he can’t feel him. It’s only through willpower, and primarily, self-preservation that keeps Hunter from jumping onto Crosshair and tearing his armor off so he can feel the heat of his skin. The need to reestablish their bond is destroying him from the inside out.

He needs him, needs him –

They leave Bracca without Crosshair, without the chips in their heads… and without Omega.

The pain of the blaster bolt he took to the chest is nothing compared to the agony in his heart and soul at knowing that Crosshair is lost to them.

He doesn’t agree to rest until they’ve located Omega, and when they’re in hyperspace to her destination, Echo coaxes him to the back of the Marauder. “You need some rest,” he says firmly. He helps Hunter settle on the rack, avoiding jarring the bandaged injuries as much as possible. Hunter tries not to focus on the warmth of Echo’s hand on his bare skin, and the way it sends a tingle of comfort through him. Echo has Rex back, and they could be together now if they choose. It feels… wrong to still desire him so deeply, so fiercely.

Hunter nearly startles when Echo slides in next to him. It takes a little more shuffling for him to settle securely, pulling Hunter against his chest. “Get some rest, okay?” Echo murmurs, lips brushing Hunter’s forehead.

He presses his face against Echo’s neck and tries not to cry. He loves Echo too much. He loves him even though he shouldn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Echo whispers, presumably sensing Hunter’s spiraling emotions.

I love you. I feel like I’m dying. I can’t make the pain go away. He doesn’t know if it’s guilt over needing Echo that’s strongest, or if it’s the yearning to be reunited with Crosshair.

“… what isn’t?” he mutters, hating himself just a little when a tear escapes.

Echo’s scomp presses against his back as he shifts, his hand coming up to touch Hunter’s head, fingers carding through his hair. “I can’t promise we’ll be okay,” he says finally, “but I can promise to help you figure this out. I’ll find a way to bring Crosshair back, Hunter.”

And that isn’t a promise Echo can – or should – make, and Hunter should definitely not believe him, much less accept it, but right now, he’s tired and hurting in every possible way. “Promise?” he croaks. It’s stupid. He’s not a child in need of comfort… except he kind of is. Just a little bit. And Echo is here instead of going with Rex. Hunter intends to cling to him for as long as he can.

Echo kisses his forehead again, holding him a little tighter. “Yeah,” he replies, “I promise.”

Hunter accepts it even if he probably shouldn’t. This is Echo. Echo has never lied to them. He’s never hurt them. If Echo says he’ll bring Crosshair back to them, then he will.

He drifts off in the warmth and safety of Echo’s arms, wondering how something that feels so right could possibly be wrong.

***

Every day, Crosshair has to remind himself that he doesn’t need his brothers. He certainly couldn’t need them after they all abandoned him. They didn’t think twice about leaving him behind… and yet even after they were gone, he had drawn a certain level of comfort from their bond. That was the one thing even his brothers couldn’t take from him. He’d touched the mark, allowing himself to feel them. It had soothed the ache in his chest at being away from his soulmates.

And now that bond is gone. He’s alone inside of himself for the first time since he was decanted… and he has no idea how to handle it.

The effects don’t show up immediately, and he hates himself for missing them even more acutely after Bracca… and after Ryloth, too. He does what he has to do, mission after mission, moving on automatic because his training demands he maintain his record even if his heart isn’t in it.

Concentrating is almost impossible for him, and no matter how many times he brushes his fingertips over the ruined skin, nothing happens. The mark is gone, and the bond with it. He tries not to think about the stories of people who lose their soulmarks and soulmates, driven to insanity as they try to get back the one thing that made them whole.

No one lives long after losing a soulmate.

Or so the stories say.

Crosshair can see it. He can understand it. The emptiness in his chest is driving him insane, day after day. He remembers how the mark shimmered in the light as he touched it, tapping into their bond. He could feel them, then. He could feel their hearts beating alongside his own, and it was the thing he needed to know he would never be alone. No matter how far apart they were physically, he could feel them. They were always there with him.

And then they weren’t.

Sleeping is almost as hard as concentrating is now, and he knows he’s losing weight, unable to eat the way he ought to, in order to maintain his health. The dark circles under his eyes betray him, so he keeps his helmet on as much as possible. Though he can hide his face, he can’t hide the faint but growing tremor in his right hand. It’s not too bad yet, but it’s gradually getting worse.

It started after Bracca. He thinks it might be a side effect of being so close to his soulmates but not… bonding with them. He wouldn’t let himself falter, no matter how much he needed. They tried to kill him there. He could have died when the ion engine went off in his face.

… A part of him wishes he had. It would have been easier. He wouldn’t have to face the eternal loneliness that’s destroying him. He could chalk it up to his own – admittedly – dramatic nature if he couldn’t see the same decline among the other clones. He can see the tiredness, the way they don’t talk nearly as much as they used to, the way they’re so prone to seeking out physical contact with each other, even in public, and the dead emptiness in their eyes. He tries to pretend it doesn’t terrify him.

This – what the Empire did –

He thinks it’s killing all of them. He hadn’t thought the Empire would do something like that, but here they are. The only clones who aren’t suffering this way are the ones he’s fairly certain are soulmates, still together even if their bond is gone. The closeness seems to be preventing them from deteriorating the way everyone else is.

The way he is.

He’s already missed a couple of shots from the way his hand will tremble sporadically.

That’s the part that scares him the most. What happens when he gets worse? What will the Empire do when his abilities are too unpredictable to make him useful? If he’s a liability, what will Rampart do to him?

He pushes those thoughts away, trying to focus instead on the bitter rage and resentment he feels towards the Batch. This is their fault. It’s stupid that something as silly as the loss of his mark and bond is affecting him so detrimentally. He’s better than this. He is!

If the Batch had stayed –

But what if the Empire doesn’t want him anymore? What will he do then? Where would he go? He has no one. Nothing. He doesn’t know where he would go. His mark is gone. His bond is gone. He can hardly go back to the Batch. Nothing can change that. It will never come back, even if he wants it to. He’s no longer one of them – the Empire made sure of that.

If he declines too much to be a sniper, then he’ll truly have nothing. Is that to be his fate, then? Doomed to be alone for the rest of his life? Because no one wants him?

Death on Bracca would have been preferable to an even slower death from the loss of the bond.

He spends as much time as he can in the training rooms to make sure he’s not losing his skills.

He is, but at least if he learns how to compensate, he might be able to put off the moment when the Empire finds out.

And then, he’s called to Daro.

Crosshair doesn’t know what emotion is strongest when he sees Hunter on the other side of the ray shield, but it takes all his willpower to refrain from swaying into Hunter’s body when the shield comes down. He reminds himself of the hurt he felt when they left him behind on Kamino and the agony on Bracca when he could have died. They didn’t worry about him then, and he knows better than to show Hunter any of his vulnerabilities now.

He ignores the desperate yearning in his soul to feel the touch of one of his mates. He cannot show Hunter any weakness.

“What– happened to you?” Hunter asks. His voice is quiet, but the meaning of his question is unmistakable, as is the way his eyes are lingering on Crosshair’s right forearm, as though he might be able to see through the armor and body glove to the skin beneath.

They strapped me down and burned it off even though I screamed, and I’ve been dying ever since.

Crosshair scoffs, opting to say nothing. He doesn’t want to give Hunter the satisfaction of an answer. His brothers left him, and they might not have been the ones to burn away the mark, but they might as well have been. This is their fault.

He clings to that anger because it’s the one thing he has. It’s the only thing he has to protect himself from being hurt again.

Once, he had been so certain that they would stay together forever. They were special. No one has multiple soulmates… except for them. The four of them were a unique case, and what was once a source of comfort is now the thing that haunts him.

If Hunter is as affected by the separation as Crosshair is, he doesn’t show it. Crosshair resents him just a little more for it, and it’s easy to cling to the rage that flares when Hunter tries to convince him that if he lets them take out his chip, everything will be okay. Right. As if. His mark and bond are gone. Brain surgery won’t change that. He takes great satisfaction is rubbing in Hunter’s face that he’s doing this of his own.

Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t, but he doesn’t even care anymore. He doesn’t care –

His hand is shaking. He’s dying. And they can’t even see it.

Having them there makes him hurt in all the ways that he thought he could ignore. He wants them, needs them, and when he’s close enough to Hunter that they’re touching, he thinks he can feel a spark of something in his chest. He wants to think that maybe he was wrong, and the bond is still there, but he’s too afraid to hope. Hope is a dangerous thing.

Kamino is destroyed, but they survive the bombardment. They make it to the surface, and –

This is it.

This is the end.

They’ll leave, he’ll stay, and… well, only time will tell how much longer he survives.

“You coming with us?” Hunter asks. His eyes are shadowed by emotions that Crosshair doesn’t know how to read. Or maybe he’s just too afraid to read them.

Crosshair looks away, scowling. “This changes nothing.” He’s not quite snapping.

“You offered us a chance, Crosshair,” Hunter reminds him. “This is yours.”

He keeps his eyes focused on the ocean and the smoking ruins of Tipoca City so he doesn’t snap and start begging. He won’t humiliate himself like that after the way his brothers abandoned him and never came back. “I made my decision,” he says stonily.

“But– but we’re soulmates,” Wrecker interjects. He sounds hurt.

Crosshair scoffs bitterly. “No, Wrecker,” he sneers, “we’re not.”

Wrecker draws back, and Crosshair hates – hates the way Tech reaches out, touching Wrecker’s arm, hand drifting up to brush Wrecker’s cheek. He’s offering comfort so freely. Once, it would have been Crosshair who was there, but they didn’t want him, and now, it’s far too late for him to go back.

His forearm throbs dully.

He bites his lip to hold back the scream when Hunter turns toward Tech and Wrecker, and the three of them head silently toward the Marauder. After a moment, the kid runs after, he pretends he’s not watching as she throws her arms around Wrecker, hugging him tightly.

“So, tell me the truth,” Echo says, and Crosshair nearly startles. He hadn’t noticed the ARC getting so close to him. “Why aren’t you coming?”

“Go away, Echo,” Crosshair snarls at him. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“You lost the mark,” Echo states, ignoring Crosshair’s words entirely. “They felt it. The separation is only hurting all of you. You need to come with us.”

“I don’t belong there!” he bursts out, and he hates himself for it a moment later. Emotions are rising to choke him, and he crosses his arms, keeping his trembling right hand tucked against his body. “I don’t have the mark. I’m not one of them anymore.” There’s too much bitterness and hurt in his voice, but he’s past caring. Let Echo know how much the others’ decision has hurt. Maybe he’ll think twice about following Hunter so blindly.

A soft sigh answers his outburst, and Echo comes closer. Crosshair startles, pulling away when Echo’s hand lands on his arm. “I know how you feel,” Echo admits, and Crosshair turns towards him, too shocked by the words to keep up his disinterested mask.

“You–” He scoffs. “Right.” His eyes dart toward Echo’s chest. “… did he die?” The question is hesitant, grudging, and he hates the part of himself that worries about what it’ll mean if the answer is in the affirmative.

Something flickers across Echo’s face before resolve fills his eyes. “Crosshair, Rex isn’t my soulmate,” he says gently. “You are. All of you.” He lifts his right arm, tapping the middle of his scomp. “I had a skull here. Never could figure out who it belonged to… and then I lost my arm in the explosion. I didn’t want to tell you. I knew I’d never have the bond with you that you four had with each other. I– I was just glad I got the chance to know you.”

Echo studies him, perhaps waiting for a response, but Crosshair is in far too much shock to offer anything coherent. Echo – Echo is theirs??? So that’s why it always felt so right with him.

“I don’t have my mark,” Echo continues finally, “so I guess that means I don’t deserve them, either, mm?”

“Of course not,” Crosshair hisses without even thinking it through. He can’t imagine what it would do to them if Echo had walked out much less how it would affect them if he left now. His shoulders slump when he realizes what he said, and he meets Echo’s knowing eyes.

“Whatever happened, no matter how you lost your mark, that doesn’t mean you don’t still have a place with us,” Echo tells him. “You’re our soulmate. You’ll always be our soulmate.”

Stupidly, the words almost make him cry. He thinks it’s just the reassurance that he isn’t alone no matter how lonely he’s been for weeks. He wants to pull Echo closer and just – hold him. How did he never realize Echo was their soulmate? He completed them. They always felt the connection to him… but it was just that their bonds with each other were so strong that it was hard to notice the faint unformed bond they also shared with Echo. If they weren’t so certain he was Rex’s soulmate, Crosshair thinks they might have questioned it sooner.

“I thought– we thought you and Rex…” Crosshair mutters, fingers clenching so he doesn’t do something embarrassing like launch himself into Echo’s arms and not let go.

Echo huffs, almost amused. “I know. We… have history,” he replies. “Rex is a good friend, and I got the tattoo because of him, but we’re not soulmates.” He reaches out, and this time, Crosshair doesn’t pull away when Echo touches his arm. His fingers slide down to grip Crosshair’s hand, and Crosshair squeezes back. “Come with me?” Echo asks softly.

Echo is his soulmate. Echo is their soulmate.

Reeling from this new knowledge, Crosshair has only one answer to give. “Yeah,” he whispers, staring at their hands instead of Echo’s face. “Okay.”

Echo’s hand moves to his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

And this time, Crosshair goes.

Their flight from Kamino is strained, almost awkward, though Omega does her best to lighten the mood.

He hears Hunter asking Echo what he said to get Crosshair to come. His voice is a mixture of relief and confusion, and the way Echo pauses before answering makes Crosshair wonder if the others even know. Maybe he is the first – and only – one of them to know that Echo is theirs. His heart flutters traitorously at that.

The other three try talking to him, but it’s awkward and stilted. Crosshair hates it. He tries sticking close to Echo because at least with Echo, it makes sense. There’s a sense of understanding and belonging they both share now. This is something they both relate to.

When they reach their destination, Echo convinces Hunter to go ahead with the others while he stays behind to talk to Crosshair. He needs time to adjust apparently – which isn’t untrue, but Crosshair gets the feeling Echo wants to talk to him about the soulmate thing… or maybe he just senses the way Crosshair is so desperately craving touch.

Ever since Echo touched him, it’s felt as though his skin is burning from it. He’s twitchy and impatient and desperate. He doesn’t quite know how to let his brothers touch him again, but he needs it. He’s losing his mind from having gone so long without touch.

Hunter gives them one lingering glance before he goes.

Echo waits a moment, closing the ramp, before he turns toward Crosshair. “You’re shaking,” he says, reaching for Crosshair’s hand. He almost pulls away on instinct but only doesn’t when he feels a tingle skitter up his spine, telling him his soulmate is close. “I think Hunter noticed it, too. Being apart is… hard.”

“Did you feel it?” Crosshair asks hoarsely. He tugs Echo closer now that it’s just them and no one else. He’s almost trembling from the need to touch.

“A little,” Echo admits, “but it’s different since we’re not bonded.”

“I–” Crosshair stops. Saying I felt like I was dying is perhaps a bit too forward.

Echo closes the distance between them, searching Crosshair’s face before wrapping his arms around him. “You’re here now,” he whispers, fingers brushing the back of Crosshair’s head and then settling on the back of his neck. “You’re safe.”

Crosshair shudders against him, clinging to Echo desperately.

“Let’s get your armor off,” Echo murmurs.

Letting go feels impossible, but Crosshair still does so reluctantly. Their armor is removed and set aside, and Echo leads Crosshair to the racks in the back. Crosshair curls against him the moment he can, fingers almost digging into Echo’s body as he soaks in the warmth of another body. The bond he somehow never noticed until now vibrates happily in his chest, contentment spreading at being reunited with one of his soulmates. He’ll handle the others… later. But right now, it’s enough that he has Echo.

Echo touches him constantly, fingers trailing up and down his back, and even though they’re clothed, Crosshair still shivers from it. He hadn’t realized how starved he was for touch until now. It’s been… so long since someone last touched him. Too long. He burrows closer to Echo’s side, soaking it all in and wishing that Echo could be enough.

He’s not. His soul demands contact with his bonded soulmates, too, but this is a good start. It’ll let him heal and keep him from dying. Almost without thinking, he wiggles his right arm free, tugging the sleeve up as he presses his fingers against the ruined skin. Echo’s breath catches when he sees Crosshair’s arm, and he holds him a little tighter.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through this.” Echo’s voice is filled with a grief and longing that Crosshair knows intimately. “I won’t tell you the yearning ever gets better… but you’ll learn how to handle it.”

A strangled sound escapes from him, and he buries his face against Echo’s neck. The pain inside of him and the need to rebond with his soulmates are almost more than he can handle. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to find a way to be content with the weak link that he feels now. How was Echo able to do it???

“It’ll be okay,” Echo breathes, and Crosshair holds him a little tighter.

Echo is the only one who can truly understand. He knows his brothers will try… but he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet. He doesn’t know that he can face them without being crippled by the fear that they’ll abandon him again. They left him behind once, and now, he’s lost the mark. The bond they used to share will never be the same. It’ll never recover, and he couldn’t hold it against them if they blamed him for it. What’s stopping them from leaving him a second time?

The answer is nothing.

He couldn’t survive losing them again. Staying behind on Kamino might have killed him – literally – but at least he wouldn’t have gone through the agony of enduring being abandoned by his soulmates again.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” It’s half-request, half-order, and Crosshair huffs.

“Do you think– do you think they’re… upset at me?” he asks uncertainly. He hates the vulnerability he’s showing, but if anyone will get his meaning, it’s Echo. Losing a mark is always devastating for soulmates, and the insecurities caused by it is something only someone who went through the same thing will understand. Crosshair doesn’t think any less of Echo for it. It’s not his fault that he lost his arm. But for him –

Echo’s hand moves to cup his jaw, forcing Crosshair to meet his gaze. “No,” he answers firmly. “When they felt it– they thought you might have died at first.” There’s grief in his eyes, and Crosshair nearly pulls back instinctively when he sees that hurt. He doesn’t know how to deal with it. “They were devastated. No matter what you’ve done, Crosshair, I know they’re just glad to have you back. They– we’ve been– a wreck without you.”

Crosshair shies away from the conversation and the words. It’s too much. It’s too emotional. They stare at each other for a heartbeat, and then Crosshair leans in. Echo tilts his head to meet him as their lips brush together. The kiss is careful, almost uncertain, but Crosshair’s courage comes back to him quickly. This is familiar. Echo is safe. Being with him has always felt right, and he pulls Echo closer, deepening the kiss as it sinks in that he can do this without guilt. Echo is his. Theirs. Echo belongs with them, and nothing will change that.

It’s with that knowledge in mind that Crosshair allows his hands to roam, reacquainting himself with Echo’s body. It’s been so long since he’s been touched by them much less been intimate with them. His fingers curl around the back of Echo’s neck as he pulls him closer, all but climbing into Echo’s lap. Their kiss is deep, passionate, and hungry, and the itch to mark and be marked is overwhelming.

He hasn’t felt like this since the first time he kissed Hunter. They’d been young, but not too young to understand what they needed. They’d pressed their marks together while Crosshair fucked him. The physical pleasure had been nothing compared to the relief of their bonding. It had been the same with Tech and Wrecker. Their bonds were… everything to him, and now, they’re gone. That unity is forever beyond his reach, but perhaps it’s not all bad. At least now, he’ll be able to feel Echo.

If he keeps telling himself that, maybe the grief won’t be quite so pronounced.

They break apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together as they pant for air.

“I don’t want to rush things,” Echo says. “You’ve only just come back.”

Crosshair nearly rolls his eyes. “We don’t do things by halves, Echo. You should know that by now.” He knows Echo has a point because they haven’t even talked about what happened. There’s still so much unspoken that it’ll only complicate things further by getting physical, but Crosshair doesn’t want to stop. An itch is under his skin, gnawing at him incessantly, and he can’t shake it.

“I–” Echo begins.

Crosshair presses their mouths together, swallowing the rest of the protest, and slides closer so that he can rock his hips against Echo’s. Echo groans softly, and Crosshair eagerly licks into his mouth to coax more noises from him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Echo asks breathlessly, apparently giving in to the inevitable.

A shiver skitters down his spine at the mere thought, heat building inside of him. “Yes,” he rasps.

Echo hums, pleased, his scomp pressing against Crosshair’s lower back to keep him stable while his hand drops down to Crosshair’s body glove. The touch is light, gentle, far more teasing than shy, and Crosshair rocks his hips forward demandingly. No waiting. He’s tired of waiting and hurting. Always hurting, always yearning.

Echo deftly unfastens Crosshair’s body glove, freeing his growing erection. He tries – but fails – to hold back the half-moan, half-whine when Echo wraps his fingers around him. It takes only a few slow strokes for him to become fully hard. His skin is aflame, and every touch feels like so much more than he ever remembers it being in the past. At the beginning, when Echo was holding him, he thinks it was touch-starvation, but now, with Echo’s hand on his cock, he thinks it’s also a result of being apart from his soulmates for so long.

He’s shivering helplessly in Echo’s arms, letting Echo take control of the kiss as he comes undone. It’s all so much, tearing him open in more ways than he knows how to explain, even to himself. He feels… raw.

“Can I–?” he questions, struggling to find words, a hand sliding down Echo’s chest, stopping before it reaches his crotch.

“Go ahead,” Echo murmurs, nipping Crosshair’s jaw. He trails kisses over Crosshair’s skin, and Crosshair’s hand is trembling – though it could be from need – as he frees Echo’s cock.

For a few moments, they don’t speak. They trade kisses, hands stroking over each other’s lengths as their climaxes build and build. Crosshair feels so hypersensitive, and the rush of feelings at knowing he’s touching Echo is almost more than he can handle. Moreso when he remembers again that he’s the only one who knows. He’s the only one Echo has told about being their soulmate, and Crosshair kisses him a little harder, part affection, part gratitude, part something he can’t even name.

Echo swallows his cry when he comes, and the need to claw at his mark so it works again sweeps away his ability to think. He can feel Echo’s release on his hand, hear his moan, but his focus is on the ruined patch of skin on his forearm. As the pleasure recedes a little, he realizes that he’s crying. It’s embarrassing enough that he buries his face against Echo’s shoulder, trembling faintly as he fiercely battles down the tears that won’t stop coming.

Echo doesn’t comment. He only squeezes him close. “It’ll get better,” he whispers, and that tells Crosshair that Echo has been here, too. The need to mark clashing with the harsh reality that bonding is impossible. Why didn’t he tell them? Maybe they couldn’t have fixed it, but they could have – they could have… helped. They could have supported him.

His body is humming, alight with the knowledge that his soulmate is close, and Crosshair tries to cling to that sense of contentment and peace, pushing away the agony in his soul at being so close and never close enough.

Echo is here, and Echo understands.

It will have to be enough.

***

Echo kept his promise.

At first, Hunter couldn’t believe it. He doesn’t know what Echo said to Crosshair that changed his mind. He tried asking Echo, but he brushed it off. Hunter hadn’t pushed, too grateful that Crosshair was back to pay attention. Maybe he should have. It’s been days now, and Crosshair persists in keeping his distance from them.

From his soulmates.

Echo, apparently, is an exception, and Hunter doesn’t know what to make of the tangled knot of emotions in his chest when he sees the way Crosshair is so ready and willing to lean into Echo’s touch. They sit together a lot, almost cuddling. Crosshair doesn’t reject Echo the way he is them. Hunter might find it endearing if he wasn’t so hurt.

Crosshair has rejected their every advance.

Every single time they touch him, even innocently, he pulls away. He pulls away faster if there’s an implication that they want him back all the way. Hunter doesn’t understand it, and he is no longer able to shake the thought that maybe the truth is that Crosshair doesn’t want them. Maybe that is what happened. Maybe he had the mark removed as his way of rejecting them. It seems so absurd, so unthinkable, but to have Crosshair so close and see him still refusing the touch of his soulmates is…

It hurts.

How could Crosshair choose Echo over them? Over his soulmates???

Maybe Crosshair didn’t want them anymore. Maybe –

Hunter pretends that the gnawing need to be close to Crosshair again isn’t beginning to overwhelm him. Crosshair is so close, yet so far, and the emptiness inside of him is more than he can handle. He hasn’t felt like this since before they bonded. Since before he bonded to Crosshair. Crosshair was his first everything, and Tech and Wrecker weren’t far behind. When he pressed his mark to Crosshair’s, when he felt Crosshair’s length buried inside of him, he had been so certain he would never feel empty again, because Crosshair would always be there in his soul.

Until he wasn’t.

If they weren’t soulmates, Hunter might not keep trying over and over, only to be rejected. But they’re soulmates, and he’s losing pieces of himself the longer he stays away from Crosshair. He’s losing his sanity most of all, and his fear that he’ll snap and do something to Echo or Crosshair is the main thing that drove him away to the abandoned warehouse he’s currently hiding in. He’s pacing the floor, back and forth, spinning his knife between his fingers and occasionally hurling it into the wall.

It gives him a numb sort of satisfaction to see it sinking to the hilt even though it does nothing to chase away the restless need crawling under his skin. Nothing can ease it. It’s been growing ever since they first left Kamino without Crosshair and since the bond faded, it’s gotten exponentially worse. He can’t go back to the Marauder or Cid’s. He can’t go anywhere where he might see Crosshair leaning into Echo’s side instead of one of theirs.

It’s supposed to be them. If Crosshair rejected him but not Tech or Wrecker, Hunter could understand it. Even if it hurt, he could understand. But this? He’s no longer convinced that Crosshair even wants them… that the loss of his mark wasn’t deliberate. That it wasn’t wanted.

He throws his knife again, watching impassively as it slams into the wall.

Sighing, he stalks across the room, grabbing the hilt and yanking it free. He stills when he hears familiar footsteps approaching the building. He isn’t surprised that Tech tracked him here, and he drops his forehead against the dirty, cool wall as he gathers himself together. He’s so close to breaking entirely, and he’s – he’s afraid.

He’s afraid of what it will mean, afraid of letting the darkest parts of himself loose. Hunter knows that he can be awful. He knows he’s capable of many things, but he would never act on those dark feelings or thoughts. That’s not who he is. He’s spent his whole life working to be better than his worst impulses.

“Hunter?” Tech’s voice is cautious. “We’ve been looking for you.”

He lets out a shaky breath and turns. “I– I’m losing control, Tech,” he whispers. His gaze drops to the floor, unwilling and unable to see whatever Tech’s reaction might be. He couldn’t handle disapproval.

It’s Tech who used to be his confidante. When they were young and things were hard, he would go to Tech, because it was Tech who was the second oldest. Tech was the one he relied on to help him with Wrecker and Crosshair. Hunter struggled with his self-control when he was a cadet. His enhancements were overwhelming, and he had a hard time keeping his own feelings under control when assaulted with the knowledge of how others around him felt. He’d slip into an almost feral mindset sometimes if he thought that he – or more importantly, his batch – was being threatened. It’s been years since he’s felt like this, and the last thing he wants is for Echo to see this side of him.

Tech closes the distance between them, footsteps slow and careful, eyes watchful. Tech knows to look for the signs that Hunter is about to lash out, and he knows how to respond accordingly. Hunter hated his enhancements sometimes, hated that it made him fight so hard to be calm, rational, and controlled. It came so easily to others, but for him, it was always a battle.

Hunter slides his knife back into its sheath, fingers clenching. “What if he doesn’t want us?” he asks, almost pleading. Tech won’t have an answer for him, but Hunter knows that he, more than anyone, will understand what Hunter means. “What if he destroyed the mark willingly?”

Tech stops, and Hunter looks up to see Tech’s eyes darting away from him. He’s still. Too still. “I– have, admittedly, feared the same,” he answers quietly. “He has not been receptive to us. I am hoping it is merely fear of being close with us again, not an indication of his true desires.”

Hunter leans against the wall and nods. He doesn’t quite believe that. He’s too afraid to hope. It would crush him if Crosshair didn’t want them, if he wanted to escape them so badly that he destroyed his own mark to do so.

Tech comes closer, and when Hunter doesn’t lash out, he touches Hunter’s shoulder lightly. “Will you come back tonight?”

Hunter shakes his head. “I can’t– I can’t see them right now,” he answers. “I’m not…” He’s too close to the edge.

Tech understands. Of course, he does, and that’s what Hunter loves about him. Where Echo is steady and protective, Tech is fierce and protective. Tech knows Hunter in ways Echo never can through no fault of his own. It was Tech who grew up with him. “Very well,” he replies. “What can I do to help you?”

“Touch me.”

The words are out before Hunter thinks them through, and he finds that he doesn’t want to, anyway. He needs it. He can’t have Crosshair, but he can have Tech, and he can sense in Tech the same restless tension that he himself feels. Tech’s body looks relaxed, but Hunter can see the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his face. Tech won’t snap like Hunter might, but he is not unaffected by Crosshair’s rejection.

Tech pushes him up against the wall, and it’s times like this when Hunter doesn’t mind being shorter. He surrenders, tilting his head to meet Tech’s kiss and trying not to dwell on how it would feel to have Wrecker and Crosshair here, too. And Echo. Echo isn’t theirs, but he still – it feels so right when he’s there even if it’s wrong. Hunter has tried not to kiss him or touch him inappropriately ever since Rex commed them, and the self-imposed distance is driving him insane.

He needs Echo, too, even if he shouldn’t and even if Echo has taken Crosshair from him. From them.

Tech pins him in place and kisses him senseless and breathless until he’s squirming and whining, wordlessly begging for more. A hand presses on his shoulder, and they don’t need words for Hunter to know what Tech is asking for. Tech steps back as Hunter drops to his knees in front of him.

“Use me,” Hunter breathes, and he’s gratified to watch Tech’s expression darken with hunger.

“I can think of no less than seven things I should very much like to do to you,” Tech purrs. Hunter shivers when Tech’s fingertips brush his jawbone. He tugs Hunter’s bandana off, circling to his side and crouching. “Give me your hands.”

Hunter puts his hands behind his back, letting Tech tie his wrists with the strip of fabric. It’s not very tight, and it won’t keep him there if he wants to free himself, but the restraint is enough to keep him in place. It’s the thing that reminds him that, right now, Tech is the one in charge. Right now, Hunter doesn’t need to worry about being good or proper. Right now, he can let Tech take care of him without having to concern himself with caring for the others.

“Good boy,” Tech murmurs, lips grazing Hunter’s earlobe before he pulls back, standing.

He unfastens his codpiece and frees his cock from his body glove. He’s half-hard already, and Hunter tilts his head, opening his mouth as he waits. Tech’s fingers grasp his hair as he maneuvers Hunter’s head into the place he wants it, and Hunter eagerly drags his tongue across the tip when Tech guides it closer to him.

Tech lets him do it for a moment, licking at the head before he pulls Hunter back by his hair. “Be good for me.” It’s an order, sharp and commanding, and Hunter shudders, his own cock throbbing insistently at the tone.

“Yes, sir,” he croaks, opening his mouth wider.

Tech slides his cock into Hunter’s mouth, slow, leisurely thrusts taking him deeper each time. Hunter sucks when he’s able, sucking in a breath before Tech rocks in far enough that the head is touching the back of Hunter’s throat. It takes him a moment to fight down his gag reflex, and Tech strokes his hair, silently soothing him.

“You’re doing good.” Tech’s voice is soft, and Hunter’s eyes close as he savors it.

Then, Tech slides back, rocking in slowly once and then again. Hunter looks up, meeting Tech’s gaze and seeing the hunger and resolve that settle there. It sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine as he braces himself for what’s coming.

Tech’s grip tightens in his hair, and he starts thrusting, short, fast movements that leave Hunter with little choice other than to take it.

Use me, he said, and Tech is doing just that, taking his pleasure from Hunter’s mouth and occasionally going deep enough that he nearly chokes. It’s rough, and he loves it. Craves it, even.

The humming of their bond is only enhancing the pleasure, and this close, Hunter can almost feel Tech’s pleasure as though it’s his own.

“I wonder if you could come from this,” Tech comments, and Hunter savors the breathless, strained quality of it. “Could you, Hunter?” There’s a purr to his tone that makes Hunter moan and Tech shudder. “Could you come from me fucking your mouth without being touched?”

He doesn’t know, but if Tech wants him to, then he’ll try.

It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer anyway.

Tech moves faster, harder, and Hunter kneels there and takes it, soaks it in, lets the roughness take the edge off the feral need burning just under his skin.

Tech’s grip tightens on his hair as he gets closer, almost enough to be painful, and he pulls Hunter’s head forward, his cock hitting the back of Hunter’s throat as he comes. Hunter swallows around him, coughing and nearly choking when Tech pulls back to let him breathe. Tech’s hand cups his face, stroking his cheek as he shivers helplessly.

“Good,” Tech whispers, crouching down in front of him. “Very good.” His lips press against Hunter’s, a kiss that is somehow chaste when compared to earlier. His other hand drops down, palm pressing down against Hunter’s codpiece, and he gasps, hips jolting instinctively as he grinds against Tech’s hand.

The pleasure hits him hard and fast, leaving him dizzy and panting. He – he doesn’t think he’s ever come like this before, and certainly not with his codpiece still on.

Tech kisses his neck, an arm going around Hunter’s back to pull him closer. “We will figure this out, Hunter. I will speak to Crosshair myself and discover his intentions. You can stay here. I will send Wrecker and Omega to keep you company. Is that acceptable?”

Hunter grunts wordlessly in agreement, wiping at his mouth. “Give me a few minutes to recover first,” he rasps. This is… good. If Tech deals with it, then Hunter can rest here in the knowledge that he doesn’t need to handle that and his own feral nature that is threatening to break free.

It would be nice to have Wrecker here. Omega, too. Their presences will, he hopes, be a balm to the hurt festering in his chest and the yearning deep within his soul.

***

Being back with the Batch is harder than Crosshair thought it would be. He doesn’t know why. He never thought it would be easy… so he doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Of course, it couldn’t be easy. After everything they’ve done to each other, after the way they left him behind, how could it be anything other than hard?

And yet.

Strangely, it’s easiest with Echo, but Crosshair already knows that’s because he and Echo have an… understanding. They can relate in ways they never could before.

He sticks close to Echo and turns down the others’ attempts to have… more. He’s not ready yet. He can’t make himself vulnerable to them when he’s still so afraid of what could happen in the future. It would destroy him if they left him a second time.

He and Echo are at Cid’s, watching Wrecker and Omega play a game of dejarik together – or more accurately, watching Omega defeat him repeatedly – when Tech enters. Something about the way he’s walking puts Crosshair on edge instantly, and he instinctively shifts closer to Echo. He gives the two of them a long, lingering look, eyes narrowed with something dark that only makes Crosshair more uneasy. That feeling only worsens when he goes to speak to Wrecker and Omega in hushed tones. They get up, and Tech touches Omega’s shoulder briefly and gives Wrecker a longer, lingering touch before they leave.

And then, Tech turns toward them. Toward him, at least.

“Crosshair, I need to speak with you.”

Crosshair doesn’t move, rooted to the spot as something that could be dread begins to rise. He isn’t ready for this. He’ll never be ready. “I–”

“Privately,” Tech interrupts, giving Echo a look.

“I’ll go,” Echo volunteers.

Crosshair reaches out before he thinks better of it, fingers clamping on Echo’s arm. “Echo can stay,” he argues. “I have nothing to hide from him.”

Tech’s eyes narrow, and he looks… angry. Angry and hurt.

“Very well,” His tone is clipped. “How did you lose your mark?” His gaze drops to Crosshair’s forearm as though he might not know what Tech is referring to.

He freezes at the unexpected question, bristling instantly. “It doesn’t matter,” he snaps back.

Tech’s eyes turn hard. “Tell me,” he almost snarls, “did you remove it deliberately? Is that why you are so reluctant to answer? Is that why you shun our touch?”

Crosshair feels the blood drain from his face, indignation rising to mingle with the hurt he feels at the implication that he could have had so little value for their bond that he removed it willingly. They strapped him down, and if he had known what it would feel like, he would have fled without a second thought, desertion be damned. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he demands incredulously. “You think–?”

“You have given us little reason to think otherwise,” Tech replies, “seeing as you avoid us whenever you can.”

“Tech, I don’t think–” Echo starts hesitantly.

“This isn’t about you,” Tech snaps. “Stay out of it or leave.”

It isn’t until that moment that Crosshair realizes exactly how badly he’s messed up. Tech and Echo would squabble sometimes, but it was never like this. Never has he seen Tech raise his voice with Echo. Tech is never harsh with him. The others don’t know. They don’t realize that Echo is one of them, and Crosshair hadn’t really… considered how his actions might look for them.

He is now, but he doesn’t know what to do. Because he isn’t ready to let them in. He can’t let them in, not after they left him there.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Echo states, quiet yet firm, presumably reaching the same conclusion that Crosshair himself is. “All of you. I should have told you a long time ago.”

Tech pauses, gaze flickering toward Echo. “It will have to wait until tomorrow,” he replies. “Hunter is in no state to see either of you right now.”

Echo startles visibly. “What does that mean? Is he– okay?”

Tech’s expression tightens. “No.” He doesn’t elaborate, and the lack of an explanation gives Crosshair an idea of what might be going on.

“Is he still himself?” he asks because if the answer is in the negative, then the others have been struggling worse than he realized. Did he ever pay them enough attention? Did he ever stop to consider how they might be handling this?

The truth is… he didn’t. He couldn’t. Whatever hurt they may have felt seemed as though it could be nowhere what he endured. Even now, his concern over Hunter’s state is mingled with anger and resentment. This is Hunter’s fault. He’s the one who chose to leave. He doesn’t get to act as though Crosshair somehow wronged him. That’s not fair! This is on him.

“Barely,” Tech admits, and Crosshair feels a chill creep through him.

“Then… we’ll talk tomorrow?” Echo prompts.

Tech hesitates. “Very well.”

He doesn’t look back as he leaves, and Crosshair can guess that he’s going back to Hunter. A part of him wants to follow, but the rest of him is afraid to. He doesn’t know if he’s ready for what that will mean. The longing in his chest is still overwhelming, but even though he’s hardly touched them, the agony is not as acute. Being in their proximity alone seems to be helping. That and how close he’s been to Echo.

“What was that all about?” Echo demands the moment Tech is gone. “What’s wrong with Hunter?” He sounds confused and worried, and Crosshair sighs.

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Crosshair mutters. “He just gets… possessive sometimes. Unreasonable. He’s better at controlling it now.” That isn’t an explanation, not really. It doesn’t explain how dangerous Hunter can be in that state, but it’s the most he can give. This isn’t something they’ve ever had to talk about before. It’s a thing of the past. Sharing it, even with Echo, feels too… personal somehow.

“I know some soulmates are like that,” Echo says slowly. He looks troubled. “He thinks I’m making a move on you.”

Crosshair tries to argue it, but really, he can’t. It’s the truth.

“Why aren’t you letting them close?” Echo queries, turning toward him. Crosshair freezes under the intensity of his gaze. “I’ve noticed how you brush them off.”

His throat is dry, and he can’t swallow. Can hardly even breathe. It takes a monumental effort to pull his eyes away as he instinctively tries to hide. The hurt comes first, and he can’t face it much less share it with someone else. Instead, he lets it turn to anger.

They left him. After everything, what right do any of them have to say that they want him back? They left him there, and he survived on his own. He was theirs, once, but then they cast him aside. He belongs to himself, and he won’t let them dictate his life, not anymore. He is his own person now. They can’t demand he give himself to them like he once would have. Maybe it’s pride speaking, but pride is the only thing he has left.

“Maybe I need space,” he challenges.

Echo doesn’t look impressed. “You and I both know that’s not true, or you wouldn’t have kissed me.”

His cheeks heat, though he doesn’t know if it’s embarrassment or anger. Maybe both. He knows Echo won’t let it go without getting an answer, so he picks his words carefully, wielding his anger like a weapon. “None of you,” he says, voice cold, carefully enunciating each word, “have the right to demand anything from me after what you did.”

“Mm. Just us, huh?” Echo challenges, eyes narrowing. “What about you? You tried to kill us. You wouldn’t have had anyone to come back to if you’d succeeded. You should know what that would feel like.” He crosses his arms. “Can you imagine that? Being empty constantly? Slowly dying?” The way Echo says it tells Crosshair that he saw it happen and watched helplessly, unable to save the brothers who faded when their soulmate was killed.

Crosshair scoffs, looking away. “I already was,” he throws back, “and you didn’t think about that when you left me there.”

He can feel Echo studying him. “We didn’t want to, you know,” he replies. “I was trying to find a way to get you back without putting everyone in danger.”

“Hunter wasn’t?” The words are out before he thinks better of it, and regretting them won’t take them back.

“I think,” Echo says softly, “that Hunter would have burned all of Kamino to get to you if he’d had the choice.”

It sounds like a lie. Or no, maybe it’s that it sounds too close to the truth, and Crosshair cannot allow himself to hope. “Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, pushing out of his seat and stalking away. His eyes burn with the need to cry, but he won’t allow himself to do so. “You were so quick to flee the moment I was gone– and then you think you can complain that I turned on you!”

“Crosshair–” Echo starts, but he stalks out of Cid’s parlor, unwilling to listen.

It’s a long, lonely night, roaming the streets of Ord Mantell alone.

***

“Echo wants to talk to us.”

Hunter grunts wordlessly at the sound of Tech’s voice, not bothering to open his eyes. Wrecker’s fingers continue their gentle movements as he strokes through Hunter’s hair over and over. A half-asleep Omega is sprawled across his chest. He’s comfortable. Well, he’s as comfortable as he can possibly get with his soul still aching for his missing bonded.

Tech’s thigh is pressed against his back, and Hunter wiggles a little closer to his warmth, careful not to disturb Omega. “Are you up for seeing them?” Tech presses.

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes. The early morning light is streaming in through the windows which means it’s time to get up. Time to face the day. After spending the night cuddled between Tech and Wrecker with Omega on top of him, he feels far more settled in his own skin. He feels as though he could see Echo without attacking him and Crosshair without jumping him. It’ll be hard, but he can manage.

For now.

His mind is already working up possibilities of what he can do if they can’t resolve something soon. None of those are options he’s looking forward to, but they’re the only ones that will allow him to somewhat maintain his sanity.

“I guess,” he mutters, stretching a bit. The true answer is no, but he’ll never be ready. He knows Echo. He can trust Echo. It’s stupid that his mind is perceiving Echo as a threat… but it is.

His arm tightens around Omega, and she sleepily blinks at him. “Maybe Cid and AZI can watch over the kid while we talk?”

Tech’s gaze darts towards her. “That seems reasonable.”

“Why?” she asks, pouting. “I want to know, too.”

“It’s not a squad matter,” Hunter explains. “It’s– Nala Se explained to you about soulmates, yeah?”

She nods, crawling off him and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Yeah, she did,” she replies, fingers brushing against her abdomen before her hand falls away. Hunter wonders who her soulmate is and what her mark looks like, but he doesn’t ask.

“We’re soulmates,” Hunter elaborates. “It’s… about that.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll stay out of trouble,” she adds with a grin.

Hunter huffs. “You’d better. Comm if you need us.”

The four of them leave the warehouse together. They take Omega to Cid’s first and make sure that the Trandoshan and AZI know to keep an eye on her before they head to the Marauder where Echo and Crosshair are waiting. Wrecker shadows Hunter’s every move, and it’s not only meant as support. It’s also so that, should Hunter snap, Wrecker can grab him before he does anything too damaging to anyone. He appreciates it. He still feels on edge in a way that he doesn’t like, but it’s not as bad as it was yesterday.

Crosshair is in the back of the ship. He looks like he’s brooding. Echo is tapping on the computer console seemingly absently. They both look up when Hunter approaches, Wrecker and Tech right behind him.

He feels protected with them so close, ready to back him up no matter what.

“Why are we here?” Tech demands. It’s more of a snarl, really.

Echo sucks in a breath, standing. His fingers are tapping against his thigh in a way that Hunter rarely ever sees from him. It’s one of Echo’s nervous tells, one that only shows up if he’s especially on edge about something. Seeing it only makes Hunter tense further, bracing himself for the worst.

“I– I need to tell you something,” Echo tells them. “I– I should have told you a long time ago. I– Rex isn’t my soulmate.”

Hunter blinks at him, surprised by the words. He’d wondered why Rex and Echo didn’t seem more eager to meet in-person, but he’d chalked it up to being used to being apart. But to hear that they aren’t soulmates –

“Your behavior toward him has been abnormal,” Tech notes slowly. “I thought it odd, but I do not understand reg customs.”

“Then who is?” Hunter asks, eyes narrowing.

Echo takes a deep breath. “You are,” he answers. “I– had a skull on my arm. It was lost at the Citadel. I’m sorry I never told you. You deserved to know the truth, but I– I wasn’t ready.”

For a moment, Hunter can’t breathe. “You? You’re our…?” It makes sense. Too much sense. The way things always felt right with him, the way he always felt as though he belonged, the way Crosshair has been sticking close to him even. “And you– told Crosshair,” he realizes. “That’s why he came back?” He can’t dwell on that when he’s reeling from the reveal.

“When did you get injured?” Tech asks.

“Um… it was around a year and a half into the war,” Echo answers, brow furrowed. “I don’t remember exactly.”

“Oh,” Tech says. He sounds stunned. “Remember the training sim we failed? It was the only one. We all froze up. They excused us from training because they thought we were getting sick. We couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.”

Now that Tech mentions it, Hunter remembers the incident. They’d shrugged it off pretty quickly because it didn’t make sense. They couldn’t understand what they were sensing… but now it all makes sense. How could he not have realized it sooner? He should have seen. He should have known, even without hearing the confirmation from Echo.

His feet carry him closer to the ARC even without consciously thinking about it. Regret is choking him, more so when he thinks about how angry he’d been at Echo only last night. He could have hurt Echo, maybe not physically, but he could have damaged their relationship… and that would have negatively impacted their bond.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hands settling on Echo’s shoulders for a moment before he pulls him closer. He breathes in Echo’s scent and wonders how he never considered the possibility that maybe they were wrong, and Echo was one of them. He knows why they never considered it before. Already, they were four soulmates when everyone else only has two. To have a fifth on top of it… It wouldn’t have even occurred to them.

But Echo is theirs, and he should have known.

He presses his face against Echo’s neck and focuses hard on the bonds inside of him. It’s only then, only when he’s tuning out everything else and looking for it that he finds it. Their bond is a weak thing compared to what he has with Tech and Wrecker and even compared to what’s left of his bond with Crosshair. Their bond with Echo died before it could ever be born, but the little link that binds them is still there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again against Echo’s skin, holding him tightly as though his grip alone will be enough to bond them together forever. “I should have known.”

“I apologize for my attitude last night,” Tech says. He sounds guilty. “I did not realize…”

Echo’s scomp presses against Hunter’s back – he can feel the electric vibrations of it – and his flesh hand settles on the back of his neck. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, perhaps to both of them. “I didn’t want you to know.” He’s so forgiving. They don’t deserve him.

Hunter kisses Echo’s neck, tasting him, needing him closer. He needs to feel him. “Why not?” he asks because for all that he wants to drown in Echo – and Crosshair, too – he wants answers as well. He can’t quite decide if he’s more hurt or confused by the revelation. He once thought that Echo would never lie to them, and well, maybe he didn’t lie directly, but it was still a lie by omission, and Hunter doesn’t understand.

Echo’s expression is pained, almost sad as he pulls back to look at Hunter. “I saw what you four were like,” he answers, “and I knew I’d never be able to share it with you. I didn’t want you to lose your minds trying to have with me what you have with each other. Our bond can never be completed, Hunter. Now that you consciously know I’m yours, you’ll never stop trying. And don’t deny it,” he adds.

Hunter’s mouth snaps shut when Echo tacks on the last bit. He doesn’t want to admit that it’s true… but it is. Once the shock wears off, he’ll want nothing more than to complete their bond and share with Echo what he does with Tech and Wrecker… and what he once shared with Crosshair, too. And that’s impossible. When a mark is gone, nothing can bring it back and the bond will never exist the way it did before.

He searches for words, trying to say something comforting. “You were ours even before we knew,” he settles on at last, hand pressing against Echo’s chest plate. “Nothing will change that.”

They stare at one another for a long moment before Hunter leans in and brushes their lips together. Echo tilts his head to kiss him back, light and gentle before he pulls away, hand settling on Hunter’s shoulder to hold him in place when he instinctively tries to close the distance between them.

“Wait,” Echo tells him, “I think we need to talk about this.”

“Why?” Hunter asks, confused and suddenly worried, “if you want us, then–”

“That’s not the issue,” Echo interrupts, “and that’s not what this is about.”

“What’s wrong?” Wrecker questions, and he sounds as concerned as Hunter feels.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Echo explains, “and I think you need to. Crosshair will never talk about it, not for a while I’m sure, but you need to understand it.” He pauses, something almost vulnerable flickering across his face, and just like that, Hunter knows.

“You’re telling us because of him,” he realizes. “If it was just you, you’d try to handle it alone.”

Echo’s lips press together. “It’s not easy to talk about,” he replies carefully. “At first, I thought it would get better, but the– the need to bond never goes away. Sex is… good. I like it, but it’s–” The way he hesitates only makes Hunter’s anxiety grow. “It can be hard, sometimes, too. It let me feel close to you, but– I guess it never really stopped hurting. Seeing how you touched each other and knowing I would never share it isn’t easy.”

The silence drags on, and Hunter feels as though he’s choking on it. “What do you want us to do?” he questions, almost pleading. He hates feeling helpless, and maybe it’s only now sinking in what it means that Crosshair lost his mark. Their bond is gone, and they’ll never get it back. He itches to go to him, to mark him. He needs to feel him.

“First of all, I think you need to sit down and talk,” Echo states firmly. “All of you, but at least you and him.” Hunter glances at where Crosshair is sitting in the shadows in the back of the ship. He’s watching silently, and Hunter looks away first. “If he needs space, you need to give him space. He might not be ready to be intimate with you yet.”

Hunter battles down the instinctive response, which is that, of course, Crosshair wants it. He understands now that it might not be true. Being close to them might hurt Crosshair more, even if being close is the only thing that Hunter wants. Touching Crosshair might satisfy the ache inside of him, but there’s a chance it may only cause Crosshair more pain.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Hunter whispers, and his voice is shaking despite his best efforts.

“I thought he was merely being stubborn,” Tech adds, and he sounds as upset as Hunter feels. “It is not abnormal for him. In my research, I have learned that there are cultures who believe that soulmarks are cursed. They are removed after birth, and there is nothing that indicates such individuals’ lifespans are adversely affected. Less is known about how a bonded pair handles it. I assumed that contact would be desired.”

Echo is quiet for a moment. “It is,” he answers, “at least for me, but it can be… draining, at times, when it never feels like enough.”

Hunter’s rising distress and the need to fix this mingles with the scent of Tech’s and Wrecker’s stress, setting him on edge and filling him with the need to act. “Can I touch you?” he begs. “Please.”

Echo’s face softens at whatever he sees on Hunter’s expression. “Of course. C’mere.”

Hunter doesn’t waste a second, bringing their mouths together, his fingers clasping the back of Echo’s neck as he drowns in the feeling of having him close. It’s Echo who deepens the kiss, and Hunter lets him, desperate and breathless and overwhelmed by everything that’s happened – and hasn’t happened. He’s torn between the need to touch Crosshair’s skin, knowing that it’ll satisfy the demand that he have his once-bonded close, and the realization that touching Crosshair at all could only hurt him worse.

At least Echo isn’t pushing him out. He doesn’t know what he would do if Echo was.

Tech and Wrecker take that as permission to come closer, and Hunter can feel Tech pressing against Echo’s back, fingers skimming down his arms. “I’m sorry,” Tech whispers, and Echo breaks away from Hunter to breathe.

“It’s okay,” he answers, turning from Hunter to Tech. Wrecker crowds in, touching Echo where he can, squeezing him into a half-hug, and Hunter pulls away from them entirely.

He knows what he wants. He knows what he needs, and right now, he needs his brothers. He needs them in every way, and if Crosshair isn’t ready, then he needs to leave. It takes all of Hunter’s self-control not to pounce on him where he’s leaning against the ladder to the gunner’s mount. He prowls toward him instead, footsteps light, body coiled with tension as he holds himself back from letting loose the way he yearns.

“Crosshair, are you in or out?” Hunter demands, hands curling into fists at his sides. He wants to touch, but he won’t, Echo’s words still vivid in his mind. “If– if you don’t– if you’re not ready, then you need to leave. Now.”

The sniper is quiet, gaze assessing. “What if I want to watch?”

Hunter nearly screams in frustration. He doesn’t have the patience to deal with Crosshair right now, and for some reason, that he’s still wearing his Imperial armor is only making that worse. “Only if you want to be mauled,” he growls. He forces himself to stop, sucking in a deep breath in an increasingly fruitless bid to settle himself. “I can’t– I won’t be able to control myself for much longer,” he says bluntly, “and I don’t want to hurt you or force you.”

Crosshair’s eyes glint with something that he would have once labeled interest or perhaps hunger.

“Why have you been pushing us away?” Hunter asks, and the words only come out because his sanity is slipping. Any concern he once would have felt at being vulnerable in Crosshair’s presence is drowned under the greater concern of hurting him.

The sniper’s face goes blank, gaze turning wary. “Our bond is gone, Hunter.”

Hunter doesn’t remember moving, but his hand is on Crosshair’s chest plate, pushing him back against the ladder. “Do you really think it was the bond that made me want you?” They’re so close, bodies nearly touching, and Hunter is drunk on his scent, on the feel of him, on how he could lean up so easily and press their mouths together for the first time in months.

Crosshair chuckles mirthlessly, expression twisting. “Wasn’t it?” he asks softly, dangerously. “You didn’t hesitate to walk out.”

He tenses, but he can’t pull away. It’s as though his hand is glued to Crosshair’s chest. “You tried to kill us in the hangar, Crosshair. What else did you expect us to do?”

“You left!” Crosshair hisses.

Their voices are drawing attention from the others, but Hunter doesn’t turn back. He can’t look away from Crosshair’s narrowed, golden-brown eyes. “If you’d been captured, I’d have done anything to get to you, but you chose the Empire!” Hunter argues. “I couldn’t put everyone at risk to try and dissuade you once you’d chosen your path!”

“Right,” Crosshair drawls, cold and mocking, “because you weren’t preparing to leave when I showed up.”

Hunter blinks at him, startled, before realization dawns, followed swiftly by gut-clenching horror. Did Crosshair really think –?

“No,” he answers, “we were preparing to come for you.” His hand drifts up the cool metal until it’s touching the warm skin of Crosshair’s neck and jaw. “Did you really think I could ever leave you behind? Just like that? Just because we’d been fighting?”

Crosshair looks away, and Hunter’s fingers tighten, digging into his skin.

“You’re mine.” There’s too much feralness in the words, but it doesn’t seem to bother Crosshair. To the contrary, it seems to please him. “I can’t make you choose me,” Hunter continues, battling down the increasingly violent need to pin Crosshair down and mark him, take him, claim him –

“I can’t make you want us, and I can’t make you stay if you want to leave. What kind of leader would I be if I held you against your will?”

Something vulnerable and lost flickers across Crosshair’s face, but he still doesn’t speak. Hunter might be afraid that his sniper is considering pushing him away for good if he couldn’t see the growing hope, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Do you have any idea how much it killed me to leave you? Do you have any idea how much I regret it?” He lets it bleed into his words, the regret and the yearning, and watches as Crosshair’s eyes slide back toward him.

“Show me.” It’s a challenge, and Hunter doesn’t need to be told twice.

His mouth is on Crosshair’s almost before he’s done speaking, fingers tightening on the back of Crosshair’s neck as he presses their bodies together. It’s not close enough, but the world feels as though it’s finally making sense again. Their bond snaps into place, no longer empty and throbbing. It’s stronger than it was before they first bonded, and it’s so much weaker than it ever used to be, but it’s still there, a small burning link that keeps them forever connected.

Crosshair gasps against his lips, and Hunter deepens the kiss with a wild hunger that is finally being unleashed, licking into Crosshair’s mouth and all but devouring him.

It’s instinct for him to tear at the clasps of Crosshair’s armor – and his own as well – throwing it aside as he focuses on nothing but the need to have Crosshair’s body finally, finally pressed against his once more. Crosshair is almost clinging to him, grip tight enough in Hunter’s hair that it’s nearly painful, but he doesn’t care. He’s past caring, driven solely by instinct and need as he rips off his gloves and slides his hand under the waistband of Crosshair’s body glove, touching his skin.

They break apart when the need for air is too urgent to ignore, pausing only long enough to suck in a few breaths before their mouths meet again, just as hungrily as before. Crosshair moans, almost whining when Hunter’s fingers explore his skin, slowly sliding upward as he reacquaints himself with Crosshair’s body. They don’t need words to communicate, and Hunter is far beyond the ability to speak as he pulls back enough to yank the top half of Crosshair’s body glove off.

He moves to attack Crosshair’s neck, licking and nipping and sucking at his skin as he tastes him again. He still tastes the same, and his teeth sink down on Crosshair’s shoulder hard enough to leave a vivid bite behind, even if he doesn’t quite break through skin.

Crosshair gasps, fingers digging into Hunter’s waist as he grinds their hips together. “Hunter.” It’s half-plea, half-groan. “I– I need–”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t need to, their bond and Hunter’s senses telling him exactly what Crosshair needs. He rips off his body glove, tossing it aside somewhere behind him, and presses against Crosshair’s body once more. This time, they’re skin against skin – Crosshair must have removed the lower half of his body glove when Hunter was distracted.

Instinct drives Hunter to pull Crosshair down against the durasteel flooring. The chill of it is a shock to his body – and probably to Crosshair’s, too – but not enough to pull them apart. They’re kissing again in moments, deep and passionate and messy, and nothing matters but the feeling of Crosshair’s body against his own and the thrumming of their bond in the back of his mind.

He grabs Crosshair’s right arm and pins it to the floor, fingers automatically going to the mark – only to be met with an uneven patch of ruined skin. It startles him just enough to break away from Crosshair’s mouth and shift to lick across the place where Crosshair’s mark used to be. It’s only scar tissue now, a distorted version of the skull that used to be there.

Crosshair’s breathing hitches, and for a moment, Hunter thinks he’s afraid, but it’s too late to stop him from sinking his teeth down onto that spot. It rips a choked cry from Crosshair, his other arm going around Hunter’s shoulders to hold him closer. No stopping, then, which is good because he doesn’t want to stop. He drags his tongue over the bleeding wound, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Mine.”

He doesn’t sound human even to his own ears as he rolls fully onto Crosshair’s body, kissing him again, hard and demanding, nipping insistently at Crosshair’s lower lip. Their erections slide together to send a burst of sensation through them, and he growls against Crosshair’s mouth, sliding downward a bit to settle fully between his legs. Another adjustment as he angles his hips, Crosshair’s leg hooking around his waist in silent encouragement, and his cock slides against Crosshair’s body, brushing against his entrance. He wiggles his hips, his free hand going to Crosshair’s thigh –

And then Wrecker is grabbing him from behind and yanking him off Crosshair.

He yowls, struggling instinctively and viciously as he fights to break free and finish what he started.

“Damn it. Hunter, Hunter!” snaps Echo, stepping in front of him. Tech moves forward as well, a shield between him and Crosshair.

Hunter kicks and squirms, but he’s no match for Wrecker’s strength.

It takes a moment for bits of reality – and his sanity – to come back, and he feels a sharp stab of horror when he realizes what he was about to do. If the others hadn’t stepped in, he’d have fucked Crosshair with no lube – and no prep.

And from the way Crosshair was so eagerly urging him on, he wouldn’t have been in the right mindset either to stop Hunter from hurting him. He might even have welcomed it.

“Fuck,” Hunter breathes, gaze darting to the panting, trembling, flushed, and dazed figure on the floor. “Crosshair–”

“M’fine,” he croaks.

Hunter tries to pull away from Wrecker, tries to go back to Crosshair to properly apologize for nearly hurting him, but Wrecker’s grip is unyielding. He almost complains, but Wrecker must sense it coming because he lowers his head, nuzzling at Hunter’s neck. The kisses he presses to Hunter’s skin are gentle, and Hunter relaxes back into his arms for a moment.

“Let me go,” he tries, voice breathless and strained.

“I do not think that is a good idea,” Tech replies, stepping closer and adjusting his goggles. It’s only now that Hunter realizes he’s naked, too. Actually, all of them are naked, but he was so caught up in Crosshair that he hadn’t even noticed them or what they were doing. “You are not stable enough right now to touch him without losing yourself. You need to calm down.”

Calm down. Calm down?!

“That’s what I mean,” Tech says, unimpressed, and Hunter realizes belatedly that he’s blurted it aloud. Ugh. Fine. Whatever.

His gaze turns helplessly back to Crosshair and the wave of need that washes over him takes his breath away. Please, please –

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Echo murmurs, fingertips sliding up Hunter’s chest. When he leans in for a kiss, Hunter meets him eagerly, shivering as he’s caught between the warmth of their bodies. It’s been too long since he’s felt them this way. When they left Kamino, it felt wrong to indulge themselves with Crosshair gone, and they had Omega to worry about as well. She provided them with a good distraction.

Hunter’s arm wraps around Echo’s waist, drawing him closer as he deliberately grinds their hips together, trying to get a rise out of Echo, trying to make him snap and act on instinct alone.

It doesn’t work.

Echo chuckles against his mouth, pulling back to trail light kisses down Hunter’s neck and shoulder, nipping lightly. “Do you think you can take Wrecker?” he murmurs, and Hunter’s breath catches, a pleading whine escaping.

He hears Crosshair moan, and his eyes instantly go to him to see Tech kissing him. He has Crosshair in his arms, almost cuddling but not quite, fingers tracing aimless patterns on Crosshair’s side as he kisses him. It makes Hunter struggle instinctively to get back to them, but Wrecker only holds him tighter, grinding his hips against Hunter’s ass. It’s a deliberate move, one that leaves Hunter torn between pouncing on Crosshair and letting Wrecker use him.

“I know you can be a good boy for me,” Echo whispers, kissing the side of his neck, and that’s the deciding factor.

Hunter wants to be good, and he stares longingly at Crosshair who is being lavished with attention from Tech before turning his gaze back toward Echo.

“Shh,” Echo murmurs, hand running up and down Hunter’s chest. It feels more soothing than sensual, but he still leans into it a bit desperately. He brushes their lips together again. “Easy, okay?” A pause. “I’ll be right back.”

Hunter nearly whines again, watching as Echo crosses the hold to retrieve the lube from where it was stashed far, far away from Omega’s reach and sight.

“Legs apart,” Echo says, returning to stand in front of him. Hunter shifts, widening his stance which isn’t easy when Wrecker is still holding him from behind. He’s contentedly nuzzling Hunter’s neck, and Hunter feels a shiver go through him as he takes in exactly how effortlessly Wrecker is keeping him still. Maybe it’s also partially the occasional whispered words of how Hunter’s being so good for them and taking care of them the way he always has which are making him tremble helplessly in Wrecker’s grip.

Echo’s hand drops between Hunter’s legs, brushing over his entrance lightly at first before he eases the first finger in. He works Hunter open slowly, too slowly in Hunter’s opinion, and every time he tries to squirm or whine demandingly, Echo quiets him with a kiss.

At some point, Tech pulls Crosshair onto his lap, a hand on the back of his head as he kisses him both senseless and breathless. His other hand is stroking up and down Crosshair’s back. Crosshair shifts, grinding their hips together which makes both of them groan. The sight makes Hunter squirm again, though he doesn’t know this time if it’s anticipation for what’s coming for him or for Crosshair. Maybe both.

“Wrecker, it’s your turn,” Echo decides, leaning forward to kiss Wrecker over Hunter’s shoulder. “He’s all yours.”

Hunter feels the vibration of Wrecker’s laugh as he effortlessly lifts Hunter into the air, adjusting him into the position he wants him in. Knowing that Wrecker can manhandle him so easily sends a wave of need through him, his cock aching even more as he tries – and fails – to rock himself down onto Wrecker’s cock.

“I got it.” Echo reaches down, and Hunter feels Wrecker’s breathing hitch, presumably when Echo slicks him up and guides him to Hunter’s entrance. Wrecker lowers Hunter a bit onto his cock and shifts his hips forward to push himself in deeper.

A strangled sound escapes from him as Wrecker slowly fills him. He’s taken Wrecker so many times, and yet, a part of him isn’t used to it. Wrecker’s size inevitably leaves him desperate and trembling and unable to form any sort of coherent thought. Wrecker shifts his grip on Hunter, allowing him to thrust his hips more easily as he works himself in. They’re so close that Hunter can feel Wrecker’s heart racing and the shakiness of his breathing, and Hunter clenches down on him just to hear him moan.

Crosshair makes a choked whimper-groan, and Hunter’s gaze focuses on him again, on the way he’s squirming in Tech’s lap as Tech’s fingers tease over his undoubtedly aching cock before he wraps a hand around him, stroking him in the way he’s figured out drives them most insane. Tech is good at that. Slow, merciless torture that they can never decide if they want to end, and he shudders in Wrecker’s arms.

His body is adjusting to Wrecker’s size, and he grinds back against him, trying to get him to move. “Wrecker,” he begs.

“Can I?” Wrecker asks, and Hunter can see Echo studying him, assessing.

“Go ahead,” Echo nods.

Hunter can do nothing except wait breathlessly as Wrecker begins moving. Small, careful thrusts at first slowly become faster and deeper, and Hunter’s hand finds his cock, stroking hard to find the release that he was already denied once.

“Wait,” Echo murmurs, catching Hunter’s wrist. “Take it slow.” He drags his thumb over the head of Hunter’s cock, smearing the precome down his length. The touch is so light, not nearly enough, and Hunter could cry from desperation.

“Gently,” Echo urges, lips brushing against Hunter’s shoulder. “You’re doing so good for us.”

The words only make him ache more, and he tilts his head to kiss Echo. Echo’s grip on his wrist is firm, forcing Hunter to keep his strokes slow and steady. He looks up to see that Tech has shifted his position, allowing Crosshair to watch. Their eyes meet, and Hunter can’t look away. Wrecker is thrusting into him over and over, and Hunter nearly startles when Echo pulls his hand away from his throbbing erection.

“Let me,” he murmurs, going down to his knees in front of him. Hunter nearly gasps when Echo drags his tongue over the head of his cock, taking it into his mouth. The sensations are making his head spin, entirely eliminating his ability to think – much less speak.

Caught between Wrecker and Echo, Hunter doesn’t stand a chance. Every time Wrecker thrusts into him, his cock rubs against every sensitive spot Hunter possesses, making him whine breathlessly. He’s close, so close, and between Wrecker’s length and Echo’s mouth, he’s rapidly approaching the edge.

And then there’s Crosshair who is watching them, eyes half-closed as Tech strokes him slowly. Hunter aches to touch him again, but he can’t imagine pulling away from the sensations Wrecker and Echo are sending through him.

His climax crashes into him all at once, and he can feel Echo swallowing around him, Wrecker growling softly as the sensation of Hunter clenching down on him so hard takes him over the edge, too. His fingers dig into Hunter’s skin hard enough to bruise as he shudders against him.

It takes Hunter a minute to recover, and when he does, he touches Echo’s shoulder, wordlessly urging him to rise. Their mouths meet, a brief, messy kiss that feels almost like a promise. He can feel their bond weakly now that he’s looking for it, and he pulls Echo closer as though that might somehow be enough to make them bond the way he wishes they could.

It’s not, of course, and he reluctantly breaks away, patting Wrecker’s arm asking to be released. “Don’t think ya can stand,” Wrecker warns, but he still sets Hunter down on his feet, steadying him. Hunter leans into Wrecker, and Wrecker cradles his face as he kisses him, long and slow and gentle.

It’s almost enough to turn him on all over again, and Hunter pulls back. His legs don’t hold him, just like Wrecker warned him they wouldn’t, but Wrecker catches him before he collapses in a heap on the floor. It takes a moment for him to get his voice to work.

“Crosshair?” he requests, casting another longing look in his sniper’s direction.

“I got ya,” Wrecker promises, kissing him again and scooping him off his feet. He drops Hunter on the floor in front of Crosshair, and he doesn’t know which of them jumps at the other first, but they end up in a pile of limbs on the floor, mouths meeting hungrily.

This time, at least, his human mind is still in control, and he rubs his body deliberately against Crosshair’s cock, making him moan. Crosshair’s fingernails dig into his back, and he slides up further to grind his ass back against Crosshair’s erection. It’s instinct that makes him straddle Crosshair’s waist properly, reaching to grip his cock. He pauses for a moment, Echo’s words from earlier coming back to him. He doesn’t want to hurt Crosshair.

“This okay?” he asks, voice strained.

“Y-yeah,” Crosshair answers, just as shaky, his hands moving to grip Hunter’s hips as Hunter lowers himself onto Crosshair’s length. He’s stretched from Wrecker, so it’s easy to take him all the way without pausing to adjust.

Crosshair’s hands slide to his thighs, and Hunter leans forward to kiss him, growling against Crosshair’s mouth when the sniper’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging sharply. Hunter rocks his hips slowly, almost teasing, burying his face against Crosshair’s neck as emotions rises to choke him. It sinks in now what they’re doing, that they’re truly together again. After weeks of hurt and pain and grief, they’re together.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter whispers against Crosshair’s skin, the words tumbling out of their own accord. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to leave you. I never meant to hurt you–”

Crosshair yanks Hunter’s mouth back to his, and he kisses him hard and desperate. “I know,” he rasps, cupping Hunter’s jaw and staring into his eyes. “I’m sorry, too. I– I tried to kill you, all of you–” His voice catches, and Hunter brushes their lips together in silent understanding.

Maybe this isn’t quite forgiveness, but it’s a step on that road. It’s a step towards what they used to be. Even if things are different now, even if they can never go back to the past with their bond almost gone, this is something they have not lost. Something they will not lose.

“Fuck me,” he breathes against Crosshair’s mouth and watches, delighted, as hunger flares in the sniper’s eyes.

Crosshair flips them over, pinning Hunter against the floor, and covers him with his body. His weight is familiar. It reassures the part of Hunter that had been so lost after he left – and after their bond snapped. It’s instinct for him to wrap his limbs around Crosshair, keeping him close so he can’t pull away. The new position gives Hunter a better view of the room. Wrecker is kissing Echo, his hand on Echo’s cock as he strokes him to completion. Tech is just watching, and the intensity of his gaze is enough to make Hunter shiver.

Crosshair shifts experimentally, and Hunter whines at the sensation of Crosshair’s length moving, filling him. He draws back, thrusting forward, and Hunter clings to him a little tighter, silently urging him on. Crosshair presses their lips together as he moves again, slowly finding a rhythm.

Abruptly, Tech steps forward. “Can you–” he hesitates, a rarity for Tech, hand sliding down Crosshair’s back. “Can you take me while you fuck Hunter?”

Crosshair stills, panting. “I– yes,” he croaks. “Tech–” It’s almost a plea, and from the way one corner of Tech’s mouth tilts upward, he hears it, too.

Hunter waits, feeling far more impatient than he really ought to as Tech retrieves the lube from Echo and begins to gently, persistently finger Crosshair open. Crosshair alternates between thrusting deeper into Hunter and grinding back against Tech, and Hunter wants more, but he holds back the plea, waiting for Tech – and Crosshair – to be ready. He doesn’t know how long it is before Tech deems Crosshair ready, and Crosshair’s movements still as they readjust their positions a bit.

Crosshair waits for Tech to line himself up and slide into him before he tries to keep moving as well. Hunter knows what it feels like to be caught between two overwhelming sensations like that. He experienced it a short time ago with Wrecker and Echo, but that doesn’t stop him from clenching down on Crosshair just to hear him gasp.

Crosshair starts thrusting again, face pressed against Hunter’s shoulder as he tries to breathe through what he’s experiencing. Hunter strokes the back of his head and down his back, trying to soothe him and maybe offer some reassurance as well. He can let go, because Hunter and Tech are here to catch him if he breaks.

A small, pleading whine escapes from Crosshair as he rocks back against Tech. “T-tech,” he whines again.

Tech leans over to kiss his neck. “You’re doing good,” he whispers, and though the praise isn’t directed at him, Hunter still feels the flush wash through him. “Do you want more?”

“Y-yeah,” Crosshair pants. “Please.”

And Tech obliges. He fucks Crosshair hard and fast just the way that Hunter knows Crosshair likes. He can feel Crosshair trembling and holds him a little tighter. “M’here,” he manages to say. It turns into a groan when Crosshair rocks into him especially hard.

Crosshair nearly whimpers, sucking on Hunter’s neck. The sensation goes straight to Hunter’s cock, and he clenches down again, urging Crosshair on. A few more thrusts and he’s coming deep in Hunter’s body. Hunter shifts, filled with the need to mark, catching Crosshair’s right wrist and tugging his arm closer. His teeth sink down near the place he bit him earlier and just shy of the spot where his mark used to be. It makes Crosshair moan, clinging to him a little more.

Tech growls quietly, and Hunter can see – and feel – his movements still as he comes. He leans forward, biting Crosshair’s shoulder, leaving his own mark. If Crosshair won’t bear their soulmark, they’ll find other ways of marking him as theirs.

“Ours,” Tech almost purrs against Crosshair’s neck, echoing Hunter’s thoughts. “We won’t let you forget it.”

Tech pulls out of Crosshair, settling on the floor next to them. His hand stays on Crosshair’s body as he leans down to kiss Hunter. Hunter can almost taste his satisfaction as he curls next to them. That’s all the prompting Echo and Wrecker need to join their little pile on the floor, and Hunter isn’t surprised when Wrecker pulls Crosshair away from him, just enough to snuggle him like he’s an oversized Lula. He’s even less surprised when Wrecker sucks a mark high on Crosshair’s throat. Wrecker feels the same need to rebond with him that Hunter and Tech do; he’s just gentler about it.

For the first time since the Empire formed, they’re together, and this time, Hunter feels content in a way he never did before. Crosshair is back. Echo is theirs. There is no need for any of them to feel guilt for wanting him.

Their bond with each other is not what it used to be, and it’s not what it could have been if they’d met Echo in different circumstances and before he lost his mark, but they’re together… and that counts for something.

***

They stay on the Marauder for a short time to recover and to reacquaint themselves with each other. The ache in his chest is still there – and Crosshair thinks Echo is right that it always will be – but it feels more manageable with the warmth of his brothers’ bodies pressing against his own. So much has changed in such a short amount of time.

He thinks a part of him will always mourn for what they had and lost, but he also thinks he can learn to be content with what they have now.

He’s not alone anymore.

He’s no longer yearning for their touch like he was earlier. He no longer feels so empty, the dull throb in his ass reminding him of just how thorough Tech was with fucking him. Maybe they don’t have the bond to give them an insight into each other’s feelings, but maybe they don’t need it, either.

They love each other. It was never the bond that brought them together this way, not entirely. It was… them. Just them.

The bond may be gone, but somehow, he still feels a strange sense of peace and contentment.

They’re alive. They’re together. What more could Crosshair ask for?