"TELL ME ABOUT CLONE FORCE 99." The whispers curled against his ears in a way that made his skin tighten and cringe.

"CT-9904," his voice croaked. "Lieutenant."

The whisper sighed. It was a voice which was smooth like honey, cool like ice, and tore through his core like a vibroknife. "I really thought we were past this. We started making progress in our last session, let's not regress."

"CT-9904," he repeated, lazily opening his eyes. He squinted and hissed at the blinding light, but only a twitch on his lips exposed his discomfort. "Lieutenant."

"Last we spoke, you were explaining CT-9901's specific skill set and leadership style," the silhouette of the whisper slowly grew more defined as his eyes adjusted to his harsh environment. "Go ahead and pick up where we left off."

"That's not his name." Something within Crosshair snapped. He'd had no issue referring to himself by a number—he'd forgotten the sound of his own name long ago since he couldn't remember the last time it had actually been used. But Hunter wasn't a number. His squad was not just a series of numbers. They abandoned him, and it hurt like no physical pain he'd ever experienced, but no one got to speak ill of them.

Hemlock's brow twitched with amusement. He'd gotten a reaction from the clone, which wasn't necessarily his objective but it was certainly one step closer to obtaining the information he actually desired. "That's right. You clones decided to name yourselves as a sign of individuality. However, only the designation numbers are recorded in the data files. So tell me about CT-9901."

His mouth shut and the snarl biting at his lips receded. There was an eerie feeling of deja vu that subdued his distaste and quieted his mind to look past the fog clouding his judgment. And after careful consideration, he slowly agreed that he'd endured all this once before. Meaning he was either trapped in a dream now, or that he'd been trapped in a dream then and this was reality.

The cold metal jabbed into the side of his neck stole his breath. The corners of his mouth twitched, refusing to grimace as the pain inducer flooded his bloodstream, lighting each of his cells on fire while simultaneously tearing them apart.

"If only you'd just cooperate," Hemlock's voice dripped with false empathy. "Then perhaps you wouldn't need to endure so much pain. You must realize that it's self-induced, and it makes me question if you enjoy punishing yourself. Do you think this is simply the consequences you've earned?"

He grit his teeth and hissed as a second syringe was injected following his continued silence. His throat burned from the raw scream that tore at his vocal chords while the pain intensified. The name uttered from his lips came as a cry of mercy, an offer of peace, and a curse of abandonment. "Hunter..."

And suddenly he was no longer chained to that table, but stumbling aimlessly around in the dark void of a brief dreamless sleep. His knees wobbled and he collapsed, pressing his hands to the sides of his head to stabilize his reality. However, he hissed and pulled his hands away as they brushed over the burns he'd earned on Bracca. The scarred flesh had always been sensitive to the touch, but it was the fact that those burns even existed that he found alarming. He glanced down at his hands, running them down his chest and torso as he incredulously examined a body long thought gone. He released an incredulous laugh that echoed in the empty expanse around him. He was back.

No more were the short limbs that tripped over themselves. No more was the disconnect between body and experience, between maturity and emotional youth. No more were the lack of enhancements that shifted his perspective and took away the core characteristics which had been manipulated to make him. This body may have been broken and decaying from age far sooner than it naturally ought to, but it was his. It was familiar and it carried the scars of the memories he had lived. It wasn't some cheap knock off. He wasn't some cheap knock off.

"You didn't think you could hide from me here, did you, CT-9904?" Hemlock asked, slowly stepping off of the shadows. "I own you. I own your mind."

Crosshair flinched, lifting a hand to massage the right temple of his forehead. "Good soldiers..."

"That's right," Hemlock agreed, nodding his head. His voice never rose above that chilling whisper. It emphasized that Crosshair never actually had a choice in the matter. "Good soldiers follow orders... So, tell me about Clone Force 99."

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CROSSHAIR WOKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT, SHOOTING STRAIGHT UP FROM HIS BUNK WITH WIDE EYES. The world was silent and dark, but his ears were ringing with the whispered words of the numerous conversations he'd had with Hemlock. He slowly pulled his knees up into his chest to combat how large the surrounding world felt. The damp curls matted against his forehead were just the breaking point of all the other over-stimulating factors stacked on top of one another.

He unsheathed the vibroknife attached to his armor—which was currently clumped in a disorganized pile beside the bunk—then frantically began chopping at his hair. Unfortunately, his fingers fumbled and the knife sliced open his right palm as it fell to the floor onto the small pile of curls.

Hot tears slipped down the sides of his face. His lip trembled as he tried to dab them away. He was a weathered soldier, he would not cry over his own spilt blood... not when he'd witnessed worse. Not when he'd created worse.

"Kriffing weak," he cursed as his body refused to listen to the mental commands he issued and instead shut down and entered a state of fugue panic. The tears slowly transformed into gentle streams and his chest shuddered. It grew hard to breathe and it felt like the walls were caving in despite it being too dark to even see the walls around him. Which was enough of a realization to increase his state of panic because his old body's vision was sharp enough to shoot a moving target in the dead of night.

And then something touched him, which only added to his small flame of paranoia. He scrambled in the dark, searching for the fallen vibroknife which immediately impaled the intruder the second it was located. It did little to deter the intruder as they simply reached over to switch on the nearby lantern, and the room was cast in a soft electric glow.

Crosshair quickly blinked, adjusting to his settings while remaining on guard. A look of guilt crossed his face as he noticed the knife protruding from the intruder's shin, but Echo hardly paid it any attention. He was instead staring at Crosshair's disheveled appearance and the cut on his hand.

"You're bleeding."

Crosshair pulled his hand back to his chest, guarding it as he pressed his back against the wall. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Echo didn't let the lie slip. Crosshair swore under his breath. Of anyone in his squad, Echo was the least likely to ignore the mental breakdown. And that was proven as the older clone dislodged the vibroknife from his prosthetic before climbing into the bed beside Crosshair. "You missed a few spots."

Crosshair's brow furrowed. "What?"

"You missed a few spots in the back," Echo gestured to his hair. "Let me even it out."

Crosshair swallowed. He'd expected a full lecture or to be smothered with concern, this reaction was... well, unexpected to say the least. Crosshair slowly nodded his head, adjusting his position so that Echo would have an easier job to work with.

Echo quietly began to cut off the longer curls that Crosshair had missed before evening the length of the rest of it. When Echo finished, there was still a slight curl to the soft texture of his hair but it was now shorter and closer to how he used to wear it.

"Want to tell me about the nightmares?" Echo quietly asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"What nightmares?" Crosshair mumbled, refusing to admit that he found the sensation calming as he continued to let Echo touch the soft silver locks.

"The ones that have you screaming in the middle of the night," Echo countered. His brow furrowed with confusion. "Don't the others hear—"

"I said I'm fine!" Crosshair snapped, wriggling to free himself from Echo's touch, but the other clone simply ignored his protests and outraged shouts to pull him closer than before. Crosshair froze with rigid tension as Echo hugged him. It was uncomfortable and colder than he'd thought it'd be, but not necessarily unpleasant. He mumbled, "What was that for?"

"You needed it," Echo replied, whispering gently in his ear before separating and sitting cross-legged across from him. "I'd still like you to tell me about the nightmares, but I understand if you're not ready... or if you'd rather speak with someone else about them."

Crosshair slowly hung his head. "No one understands. I've done things..."

"And you think this means we won't accept you?" Echo asked, trying to understand.

Crosshair shook his head. "I don't deserve... I can't... It's not..." He clenched his fist to stop the tremor that had returned. He took a deep breath and threw himself back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "I hate this."

Echo slowly nodded his head. "How long ago did they do this to you?"

Crosshair sighed. "It's been about three days."

"I'm surprised you escaped like this," Echo admitted, "I'm sure there were additional complications."

"Why?" Crosshair bitterly muttered. "Because I'm too small to actually do anything right now?"

Echo shook his head. "Mentally that's a lot to process in the span of a day. I could hardly function when you all rescued me from Skako Minor, and I'd been this way for months already."

"It's different..."

"Not really," Echo contradicted. "Sure, it's not exactly the same, but neither of us asked to be scientifically experimented on and tortured. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I work better alone," Crosshair countered.

Echo scoffed. "No you don't. You work best with your squad, and we work better with you beside us too."

"I'm different now—"

"So?" Echo questioned. He didn't immediately deny it, not like Omega had. In fact, he essentially agreed with Crosshair. "Use those differences to your advantage. Your ability to hit a target isn't the only thing that makes you a valued member of this squad. You have other skills, and even if you didn't, you're still our brother and have a place with us all the same. You might look different and the range of your skills may have changed, but who you are is still the same, Crosshair. That's not something they can ever take from you."

Good soldiers follow orders.

Crosshair swallowed. He quickly blinked away the image of Hemlock's grin that was burned into the back of his mind. The scientist couldn't reach him here, he was safe. His mind was his own. Echo seemed to notice his discomfort because he rose from the bed and held up a finger as if telling him to wait. Crosshair's brow furrowed, and his expression didn't change when Echo returned with Batcher in tow.

"Omega suggests you borrow her for a few hours to get some rest," Echo explained.

Crosshair shook his head. "I planned on getting up anyway."

"It's still dark," Echo contradicted, shaking his head and taking a step forward to block Crosshair's exit, much to the smaller clone's chagrin. "You should take advantage of a few more hours. We'll need all the rest we can get for later."

Crosshair's brow furrowed. "Later?"

Echo nodded. "It's a long flight to Ponemah Terminal."

"Ponemah Terminal?" Crosshair frowned, repeating Echo's statement in the form of a question. "What's at Ponemah Terminal?"

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"AFTER BYPASSING THE IMPERIAL CODES ON NALA SE'S DATAPAD, WE UNCOVERED AT LEAST A DOZEN OTHER IMPERIAL FACILITIES WHICH HAD TIES TO PROJECT SAMSARA," Echo explained to the group several hours after they'd all tested and recovered from the previous day's mission. "According to this intel, the project's origins were lost but recently believed to have crashed somewhere in the deserts of Ponemah. After speaking with Rex through some coded channels, he's agreed that it's worth checking out if it could potentially help us acquire information about Tantiss."

"And you'd like for us to join you," Hunter replied, putting two and two together.

Echo nodded. "Although it's just meant to be a recon assignment, the numbers wouldn't hurt. We have reason to believe the ship we're looking for is the same ship which disappeared with Dooku's unknown treasure during the war."

"Treasure?" Omega's eyes gleamed with excitement and sparkled with wonder.

Hunter's lips pursed into a frown. He'd seen that look before and he wasn't fond of the trouble that tended to follow. "I don't know. Barton IV was one thing, but we really shouldn't be pushing our luck—"

"Please, Hunter?" Omega asked, turning toward him with the largest, begging eyes.

"It is just a recon assignment," Wrecker agreed, piping up from the back as if trying to help. "And it might help us understand why they turned Crosshair into a kid, shouldn't we look into it?"

Crosshair flinched, clenching his fists—an action that didn't go unnoticed by Hunter or Echo, but neither brought it to the center of attention. Hunter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slowly nodded his head in agreement. "Alright, but at the first sign of danger we're out of there."

"I completely agree," Echo nodded. "We'll gather the few supplies that we'll need then head out."

"And you're not leaving us behind?" Hevy skeptically asked, narrowing his eyes while crossing his arms.

"No," Echo agreed. "I'd rather keep an eye on you myself. And it's not like I could just leave you behind anyway, I sent Cody and his Mandalorians to meet with Rex to have his chip removed."

"Cody's getting his chip taken out?" Wrecker repeated.

Echo nodded. "They left earlier this morning. Rex knows a medic that's been taking a more in depth look at the inhibitor chips and their capabilities, so Cody will be in good hands."

"And what about the kids?" Hunter asked, looking up from where he'd been sitting deep in thought. "You never updated us on your scan findings from last night."

"The good news is that none of the cadet bodies currently have any inhibitor chips," Echo explained, slowly going over the information he'd learned, "And they show signs of never having had one in the first place."

"Which means what exactly?" Hunter's brow slowly furrowed.

"I'm not exactly sure," Echo admitted with a hesitant shrug. "It implies a different purpose, but there's not enough information recorded about why Project Samsara and Project Necromancer were started in the first place. As far as I can tell though, they're completely healthy, regular cadets."

"Even Crosshair?" Omega asked, tilting her head with confusion. Crosshair seemed to pale at the comparison of being regular, but calmed as Echo shook his head.

"There were few differences," Echo replied. "Crosshair's bioscans showed some minor enhancements around the occipital lobe. His blood work also differed, but I don't have the medical expertise to say how it's different."

"Minor enhancements?" Hunter questioned. Chills ran down his spine as he glanced over at his younger brother. He'd been operating under the assumption that Crosshair was simply younger. And that it would take time for the muscle memory to kick back in, not that he might not actually be capable of the skill that Hunter expected of him. However, the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense with all the signs that had already been present. "You mean Crosshair doesn't have the same modifications that he used to?"

Echo hesitantly nodded, carefully eyeing Hunter's reaction. "Crosshair's current body probably only has a tenth of the enhancements that he previously had. However, the lack of inhibitor chips isn't the only difference between our cadets and the standard cadet."

Wrecker's frowned. "Of course it's not."

"Echo." Hunter testily said, implying that it would be wise for him to get everything out in the open before he completely lost his patience. Echo shot him a look that immediately challenged that decision.

"They haven't been exposed to the accelerated aging chemicals like the rest of us," Echo explained. Acknowledging the lost look he received from Wrecker, he continued his explanation before he could be interrupted. "They're like Omega. Growing at a normal rate."

"What?" Crosshair asked in a chilling whisper with a look of abject horror plastered to his face. He cleared his throat as if trying to recover from the moment of unplanned vulnerability. "You mean we're stuck like this until we grow up?"

The silence that filled the room served as enough of an answer. Crosshair pushed himself to his feet and sprinted out of the room as fast as his little legs could carry him. Omega glanced at the others and after receiving a soft nod of affirmation from Hunter, she followed after him. Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait were taking the news a bit better, but there was still a tension of anxiety and uncertainty floating around them. They muttered an excuse under their breath before leaving the room, likely taking some time to process everything Echo had revealed. Then, it was simply the adults left in the room.

Wrecker cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm gonna pack."

And then it was just Hunter and Echo. The room was silent and the thick tension in the air remained as neither immediately addressed it. Echo took his time, sitting down in one of the chairs across from Hunter while the sergeant continued to lean against the door frame as if preparing for an easy escape.

"What?" Hunter finally asked, clenching his jaw as he broke the silence.

"How long are you going to act like nothing has changed?" Echo replied. He didn't raise his voice, but he hardly looked pleased as his eyes hardened.

"I'm not," Hunter contradicted. "I know that things are different—that everything is different."

"Really?" Echo skeptically asked, his brow lifted and shifted his once flat expression. "Because it hardly shows."

Hunter frowned, slowly crossing his arms. "This is about the mission on Barton IV."

"It's about more than just the mission, Hunter," Echo contradicted. "The dynamics of the squad have shifted and you haven't adapted for that."

"Crosshair is a trained operative," Hunter snapped, addressing the unspoken tension of the conversation. "How you handle your batchmates is your concern, but I'm not going to overlook the skills of my squad just because things get a bit dicey."

"Banthashit!" Echo called him out. "You do the exact same thing with Omega—"

"Omega's a kid—"

"And so is Crosshair!"

Hunter fell silent. His eyes drifted toward the ground while his posture grew more rigid. He inhaled, focusing on his breath as if that would simply help the conversation fade into the background of his mind. The world was always too loud and too bright. He'd grown accustomed to never truly feeling comfortable in an environment long ago.

And then they'd found Pabu: a world where colorful explosions weren't constantly ringing in his ears and the moon had the most beautiful glow in the evening. A world where for the first time in his life he could claim he felt safe and could actually allow himself to stay asleep longer than thirty minute increments to constantly check on his squad.

And even when it felt like he'd lost everything, Pabu was a safety net that he could use to escape the horrors of the Empire and the war. A world that allowed him to breathe freely without the need to constantly check his shoulder and ensure that he wasn't missing anything.

And then they lost Tech. And then Omega. And even if Echo was still a member of their squad, he was absent more often than not—insisting that he fight a war they left behind. And now here he was telling Hunter to step back from the fighting because one member was simply smaller than he'd previously been.

Hunter clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he stopped leaning against the wall. "I understand that things have changed, Echo. However, Crosshair is still who he's always been, and I doubt he wants to be treated any differently."

"But is that what he needs?" Echo asked, gently furrowing his brow with the question before shaking his head and leaving the room.

Hunter considered the question, only receiving a headache instead of answers. He pinched the bridge of his nose and released a long sigh of frustration before following after the others. His squad had never really been the kind to sit down and work through their feelings, so why break that routine now?

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𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞| No Mando'a in this chapter since Cody and the Mandos are off on their own little adventure for the next couple of chapters. This story is now updated to the same point as it is on ao3 so updates are likely to come a bit slower now. I'm pretty excited about what's to come with this next little arc, hopefully you've enjoyed it so far. Feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts!