The Bad Batch: One Shot Collection

Twin Week Day Six

And they're keeping her brothers here locked in cages, literally like animals.

Her mind lights up, rippling with warmth and recognition.

A quiet near whimpering catches her eye, following the familiar linkage, the bond of blood that they're born with. He's a lighter brown than most, curled in a miserable ball, head on his paws, though the black markings on the left half of his face instantly answer who he is. Omega had said –

"Hunter," she whispers, moving to his cage, kneeling in front of it, fingers gripping the bars.

Her brother. This is her little brother, her twin, the one she shared a tube with before they were born, the one she slept beside –

9901.

The second of their batch.

Her little brother, though so distinctly more mature.

Assumed dead. Tech and Wrecker think he's dead. How are they faring? How were they when she was apart? Are they still alive? Emerie thinks she would have felt it even here if they died, but she cannot be certain.

He's trapped as a wolf in a cage, some kind of collar on his neck that Emerie is uncertain of the purpose of.

His front right leg is broken, and it looks painful, like it was never really set. He's been here a couple of weeks already, and Hemlock just ignored it? Horror flares up hot and tight in her chest, along with a quiet anger even if there's nothing she can do about this. This is her little brother who she hasn't seen in so many years and Hemlock is hurting him, keeping him chained and there's nothing she can do.

"Hunter?" Emerie presses.

He shifts forwards, limping badly on his leg, though lingering back. She can see the way his eyes are flickering in the darkness, so full of fear. He's scared, though she feels recognition. Hunter knows her. He could never forget, any more than she could forget him. It's distant memories, wisps Emerie is mostly certain are no more than a dream. She remembers their childhood, their time together. The time she wasn't alone.

And now, here's Hunter, her little brother, the one she entrusted to care for the rest of her brothers, as alone as Emerie was.

He makes a quiet whine, pattering closer. Emerie slips her hand over the bars, wriggling her wrist through – they're narrow enough she can't reach through properly, but once she gets her hand through the squeeze, she can work it in down to her elbow.

She wishes she could see his face, what he looks like now, both human and wolf. She doesn't know any shifters other than herself and her brothers – werewolves aren't common. Emerie hasn't shifted in a very long time herself. Only a handful of times after leaving Kamino. Their wolf forms are only useful in battle.

A war Emerie never got the chance to fight in.

Hunter's fur is soft under her hand when she reaches him, touching his face, gently stroking across his muzzle. He makes a quiet noise, nuzzling her hand. He knows who she is and they're finally together for the first time in so long, even if he's trapped as a wolf right now so they can't talk.

She wants to cry, suddenly – tears pricking her eyes and threatening to fall. She should not take long – every moment here is one where Hemlock could find her with her arm in the cage, and it would threaten them both. Hunter is injured, and she wishes she had a way to help him like she once would have. It has been years without them. Years they can never recover.

Emerie strokes her hand across his head, down his neck, trying to brush the fur back enough to check him over. It hides it well, but there are singe marks on his fur near the collar, burns across his skin. It's hurting him. Electrocution.

This must be some sort of... process, though she is uncertain what the purpose is. It does not fully matter. She cannot interfere, though this is her twin brother. Both he and Crosshair are here.

They are being hurt here.

Hurting Crosshair had been a nightmare. She knew him – her little brother, memories from dreams, but she remembered his smile and laughter, and there was nothing like knowing she caused him pain, even if she tried her best to help him. He has always been stubborn – inflexible.

There was nothing like having to stand there and watch him be tortured, having to hear his screams, knowing there's nothing she could do to make it stop. She was supposed to be in charge of it, and she could try to make it easier, but she couldn't stop it. She couldn't do anything to help him. His screams still echo in her ears. She still sees those moments playing through her mind when she closes her eyes. She doesn't know what else she could have done, but she still hurt Crosshair.

Hunter would have fought for him. He's always been a fighter.

Emerie has always been the one to run. She's the oldest, but she's weak. Too weak to help, when that is all she needs to do.

She's a failure to all of them.

Hunter had promised to take care of them. Emerie doesn't remember the words, doesn't remember their goodbye, but she remembers that.

She knows she saw their faces one last time before Nala Se lead her away, remembers looking back until the door shut between them.

She told herself every night Hunter was still there to protect them, that she never had to worry, but some things never fade.

Here they are, years Emerie has to make up for.

For years, she served Hemlock. Time – blurred together, missing most of her life. She had a role to play here on Tantiss, a role Hemlock gave her when he chose to make her something... more. Something no one else had ever done for her, but Hunter and Crosshair are here, and the Empire is not what she imagined.

"Hunter," she says, shifting closer, and he noses her hand, looking up at her with tired eyes. "I'll find a way to bring you home."

Hunter barks at her, accepting the reassurance.

And for just a fleeting moment, it feels like nothing's changed.

Emerie stands again, prying her arm back out of the cage, even if all she wants to do is stay forever, to never leave her little brother's side again. She's already done so much too them.

But all she can do is walk away, hear the door slide shut behind her, feel the way their bond fades over, unused and worn from a lifetime of distance. Running, because she's too afraid to fight.

Just like she always has been.

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