Have You Seen Me? - Kihvod (2024)

Chapter 1: National Geographics

Chapter Text

PART I

VANISHING ACT

Echo didn’t understand how someone was just supposed to carry on with life after something like this.

He’d had friends, cousins, family members hurt before. He’d been stuck in a hospital bed for weeks upon weeks before. He wasn’t unfamiliar with something life-altering happening and having to pivot and learn to move around it.

But no one had ever vanished so completely from his life.

His cousin had practically talked their ears off on the entire road trip, leaning forward, tugging against his seatbelt so he could get closer, be heard more clearly, as he animatedly talked about the history of the Carrion Plateau, the fossils that had been found in the cliffs, the millions of years it took to form the deep canyons–

“Tech, give it a rest,” Fives groaned, batting their cousin away, back toward the very back seat with his siblings.

“I should’ve rode with Rex,” Echo muttered, rubbing at his temple.

“How are you supposed to understand scientific processes if you don’t study history?” Tech had replied, a little indignant as he reluctantly sat back.

“Tech,” 99 called from the driver’s seat, “I think they’re just a little overwhelmed by all this information you’ve given us. Why don’t we talk about something else for a bit, huh?”

“But–"

“So who’d’you think’ll play the super bowl next year?” Fives cut him off, a little louder than necessary.

Echo regretted so much about that trip. Lecturing his excitable cousin about drinking so much soda they had to stop to pee more times than necessary. Begrudgingly sharing just a few of his chips. Wishing aloud he rode with his brother instead so he wouldn’t have to listen to his cousin’s rambling anymore.

Rebuking Tech’s eagerness to join him on the trail, telling him he wanted some peace and quiet in nature, alone. Watching his cousin’s face never shift, except for his eyes that always gave him away, watching as he wilted inside, even though he’d simply said “oh. Okay.” as he watched Echo walk away.

Stars, he never should have done that. He never should have pushed his cousin away, never should have refused the chance to walk with him.

He’d do anything to hear that kid’s voice again. Anything to hear him relay every single crumb of information his sponge of a brain had soaked up from geographic magazines and online articles and library books. Anything to see him smile, hear him laugh, nudge his side or wrap an arm around his shoulders again.

“You can’t blame yourself,” 99 consoled him quietly one night, when he couldn’t sleep for how wracked with guilt he was, his obsessive thoughts running his brain ragged.

“I should’ve just f*cking walked with him,” Echo eked out through thick tears, voice pitching up painfully.

“Sh, sh-sh,” his uncle soothed, letting Echo sob into the crook of his neck like he was a toddler again.

His therapist told him much the same. He wasn’t at fault for what happened. Accidents happen. Mistakes happen.

Lingering in the past wouldn’t change anything.

“How much snot can one person make?” Fives asked weakly as he tried to mop up his own tears.

Tech would know the answer. Echo desperately wished his cousin was there to rattle off the number.

The stares at school eventually faded away. He could feel everyone slowly begin to stop caring, moving on with their lives because it wasn’t their cousin. It wasn’t their brother who had vanished. They could get on with mundane things like posting photos online, cutting class, arguing over who got to ride shotgun, debating what to get from the vending machines, cheering for whichever team was playing depending on the seasons (they all slipped by in a haze...).

“I think it’d be good for you to keep playing soccer,” 99 advised as Echo lay on his bed, scrolling numbly on his phone. He hadn’t been to practice in several weeks. Maybe longer. He didn’t know; he’d lost count.

He might quit.

“Does it matter?” He mumbled, not looking up. Hitting ‘like’ after ‘like’ after ‘like’ for something to do. Keep his hand busy. His mind busy.

It didn’t really work. But nothing did.

“It’d get you out of the house. Take your mind off things.”

His uncle turned out to be right, though it grated on him. The temporary, two-hour-long reprieve from his thoughts circling around the drain that was his cousin was... welcome, admittedly. But... he also felt like he was betraying Tech, in a way, by trying to pick up life where he’d left off. He didn’t know where the kid was, but his life had been sharply interrupted. Echo had the choice to keep moving. Tech didn’t.

He missed his cousin so badly.

Tech had so cautiously approached him when he first moved in, hands worrying together behind his back, and asked Echo in his formerly-so-shy little voice if he could read his collection of geographic magazines. He kept them in date-sorted boxes on the shelves, neatly organized and tucked away from grubby hands (Fives was included in that, much as he loved his twin).

He’d spent almost his whole life collecting them, and as he got older, he trawled dBay and thrift stores and garage sales, gathering back-issues from before his time, going back decades. They were a source of pride and brought him a little bit of peace in his compulsive brain that picked and picked at every tiny thing to be worried about. He could take the box lids off and feel himself relax as he looked over the endless shiny bound paper, knowing they were in order even when the rest of his life wasn’t. He didn’t let anyone touch his magazines.

But Uncle 99 had given them all a talk before the four boys moved in. “Be kind, be generous, be gracious. Don’t just tell them they’re welcome here. Make sure to show them with your actions.”

So he’d reluctantly gotten up off his bed, setting aside his music player and pushing down a deep, annoyed sigh as he pulled out a box that held several of his less-pristine issues, ones with preexisting damage that he’d gathered in a stack from an estate sale. At least when his cousin inevitably messed these up, Echo could pretend the damage was already there. Or he might finally have an excuse to replace these copies.

“Here, you can read this one,” he said, handing over one of the issues with a crumpled and creased cover that marred the colorful photo of a toucan.

“Thank you,” Tech had said, and then promptly sat down in the middle of the floor, to Echo’s surprise. He watched warily as his cousin opened the magazine, figuring he’d just flip through it carelessly and get bored once he’d looked at all the pictures. But no. He sat there for ages, seeming to read every little word within, until 99 called them for dinner. He was only halfway through.

“Can I keep reading after dinner?” He’d asked as they stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Sure, if you want,” Echo’d replied with a shrug. Tech had been quiet the whole time, almost like he wasn’t even there. What harm could it do if he let the kid finish one magazine?

He started letting his cousin read more issues. Even the nice ones. Tech was always meticulously careful, especially when the issues were pristine. He seemed just as impressed by the uncreased covers and wanted to preserve their sharp corners. So Echo loaned them out, letting him take a few at a time to his room or elsewhere in the house.

And when Tech did accidentally crush a previously sharp corner, Echo found he didn’t mind it nearly as much as he would have if anyone else had done it. Because his cousin always eagerly chattered to him about the magazines’ contents, interested to know if he had read the same article, what he thought of it, even asking Echo what he thought the next issue would be about.

Now the magazines sat untouched on the shelves. Looking at his prized collection didn’t bring him any of the joy it used to, without Tech there to borrow yet another issue. Now the boxes were gathering dust that Echo couldn’t be assed to wipe off. It was almost incredible—his depression over his cousin’s absence had all but cured his contamination OCD. He was too exhausted, too miserable, to care if there were germs everywhere, if he could get sick with something disgusting if he didn’t mop and scrub and wash everything just the right amount.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Tiber Fett

Missing From: Carrion Plateau, ED

Missing Since: 03/29/10

Age: 10 DOB: 09/02/99

Sex: Male

Race: Biracial

Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown

Height: 1.4 m

Weight: 28 kg

Details: Tiber answers to the name “Tech”. Last seen in the Mount Veermok tourist area of Eriadu on vacation. Normally resides in Sundari, Mandalore. Tiber was last wearing a white long shirt under a dark blue tshirt, dark blue pants with a white side stripe, and gray sneakers. Tiber wears glasses and has a surgical scar on his left thigh. Tiber is on the autism spectrum and may run away or resist instruction under stress.

Chapter 2: Carrion Plateau National Park

Chapter Text

He’d been trying and failing for months not to think about his brother. People kept encouraging him to try to move on, keep living life. But he couldn’t. He was stuck back there in Eriadu. Stuck in the sun beating down on him, and the panic running through his veins when he realized his brother was gone.

At first he was supposed to think about him. Tech had just vanished, and it was all hands on deck trying to find him. Search teams were organized, volunteers coming out to sweep the national park. Dogs brought in, Hunter holding out his brother’s sweatshirt, his pajamas, to give them anything as a reference for his scent. He still remembered the helicopter blades loudly beating overhead as he walked through the rocky terrain with his family.

“He wouldn’t just run off,” he’d insisted in the first days, first weeks. “Tech’s smarter than that,” he kept telling people, growing angrier that they seemed not to listen.

“Children with autism are prone to wandering off,” the “experts” kept saying. At the search team staging grounds. At the police press conference. On the news.

“He’s not an idiot!” Hunter shouted at the tv, as if that could stop them from talking down on his brother, treating him like he was a drooling baby with no sense of anything, just because of the circ*mstances of his birth. He was in a higher year at school than all of them, for stars’ sake.

But he began to falter as time went on. The more he kept hearing the adults around him talk about “children with autism” and “elopement”. The more he laid awake at night, knowing the bunk bed beneath his was horribly, horribly empty. The more he stared at the ceiling with the glow in the dark stars he and Tech had put up together, and thought back on all the times his brother had done something stupid.

The times he had wandered off.

He got distracted by the toys at the store. And the books. Drawn like a moth to a flame by the trading card displays in their shiny foil packets.

He hadn’t seemed to hear them when they said they were going to see the reptiles next at the zoo, not the primates, and he’d wandered in the opposite direction.

He lingered too long at info plaques, absorbing every sentence and syllable rather than just skimming over it like the rest of them.

An interesting plant or an unusual bird caught his eye and had him walking away from their little group, traipsing off the trail into the thick of the underbrush.

But every time, one of them had seen him. Hunter had seen him.

He glanced behind him on instinct to check for the three little ducklings that were his brothers as they walked toward the grocery section, and jolted on only finding two. When he looked further back, he saw Tech’s wiry frame disappear around an endcap, and Hunter had caught up with him to drag him away from the jigsaw puzzles.

At the zoo, he’d stopped at the divergence in the paved path and taken off his ballcap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, glancing to his right and seeing Tech ambling the wrong way, towards the primates. He’d dragged his brother back the right direction to rejoin their family, scolding him to pay attention.

On day trips and vacations, they had to chide and loudly complain to him about how long he took at the info plaques, Hunter always grabbing him by the jacket sleeve or the back of his overalls to force him to keep up. “I’m not spending all day here.”

When Tech wandered off the trail on their hikes, Hunter snapped at him to use his brain and hauled him backward, even as his brother argued he wasn’t going more than a few feet, he knew what he was doing, despite him just word-vomiting in the car earlier about defensive tactics against bears and mountain lions. “A few feet and nobody’d be able to see you past the damn bushes,” Hunter had replied, seething at how careless his brother had been.

“Prone to wandering”

“Prone to wandering”

“Prone to wandering”

How had he not seen his own brother?

He was there, he was there, Hunter was certain of it. Until he looked, and he wasn’t, and when he looked again, his heart skipped for too many beats, stomach dropping to his boots as his head swiveled frantically, and his voice cracked as he asked, “Where’s Tech?”

And Wrecker didn’t have an answer. Neither did Omega, both of them looking around bewildered.

“He was just here a minute ago.”

He’d run to Echo further down the path, his cousin stopped on a boulder to drink from his canteen. “Have you seen Tech?” He asked, the words almost squeaking out in his mounting panic.

Echo’s brow furrowed, worry alighting behind his eyes for a moment, though he didn’t seem to understand yet why Hunter was so afraid.

“I thought he was with you.”

Tech hadn’t gone ahead with Cody and Rex, he quickly discovered. Hunter raced backward, flying past Echo again, past his siblings who’d been ordered to stay put with their cousin, his boots kicking up dust and tiny, sharp rocks that hit his bare legs. He’d skidded to a stop in front of 99 and Fives, breathlessly repeating his question.

99 was the only one who seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, though to his credit, Hunter only heard calm authority in the man’s voice as he doled out commands to each of them. As he instructed Hunter to come with him to double back and alert the park rangers, ordering Cody and Rex to stay behind to keep an eye out. Rex’s hand latched onto Omega’s to keep her from flying off down the craggy cliffsides in search of their brother.

Every second that ticked by worked more knots into Hunter’s stomach. He only distantly remembered the rangers’ radios communicating back and forth, pulse thundering in his ears by the time they drove back to the trailhead and he could race down the path again.

He couldn’t eat for days, as though his body were full of rocks, his stomach blocked off completely. Liquids were… tolerable, to an extent.

Every sip of water tasted foggy.

The blaring sound of the CAE alert hitting all their phones at once would have made Tech clap his hands over his ears. But then, if he were here, they wouldn’t have needed the alert at all.

He agonized over the picture to give to the police. He didn’t know why. It didn’t matter, so long as they had a reference. So long as they knew what Tech looked like.

Except it did, for some reason. His brother was self-conscious when he had his picture taken. And as much as Hunter had rolled his eyes and told him over the years that he looked fine–

Now…

It suddenly mattered, how he let everyone look at his brother. How he let them see him.

It felt real and not real as he watched the news segments. Saw the articles online, and in the newspapers at the gas station.

“Boy with autism vanishes into thin air” made a hell of a headline, it turned out. People liked the idea of some poor defenseless “special needs” kid needing rescuing.

He didn’t understand how he was supposed to keep going with his brother gone. Every day bled by agonizingly slowly, none of them knowing what could have possibly happened, where he could have disappeared to.

Where he could possibly be.

“He probably stepped right off the cliff there.”

“He might’ve climbed on a rock and it gave way.”

No, Hunter wanted to scream, until he was blue in the face. No! Tech wasn’t foolish, he wouldn’t just walk past the safety ropes to an open cliffside. He wouldn’t–

He wandered off before, that terrible voice reminded him. Daily.

But Hunter would have heard any rocks give way. Omega would have. They would have heard it.

You would have heard it past the rushing river? And that loud waterfall?

You didn’t see him walk away.

You didn’t hear him.

You lost him.

CAE Alert

Carrion Plateau, ED CAE Alert

10 year old Biracial male, autism spectrum, tune to local media for details.

Chapter 3: Summer

Chapter Text

The end of school didn’t have the same raucous joy as it did last year.

Wrecker was pretty sure he bombed his tests last month. And then the month after had been blurry, like he wasn’t really there. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. It was kind of like looking at everything when you were crying. You could still see shapes and colors, but you couldn’t see any details. And everything felt just out of reach. Like you weren’t really part of the planet in that moment.

He’d had plenty of time recently to figure out just what crying felt like. But it wasn’t enough time to get used to it.

He’d been having trouble eating for a while. At first it was because of all the stupid crying he couldn’t make stop, no matter what he did. He went to bed crying and woke up crying. He’d randomly burst into tears in the middle of the day over the littlest things. Sometimes without any reason he could figure out. Just big fat tears rolling down his face and wailing he couldn’t contain.

His cousins would hug him so much he was pretty sure he could still smell their cologne in his nose weeks later.

Wrecker wanted to be brave. Be a big kid, be tough, be more grown up. He was taller than all his brothers so everybody assumed he was the oldest, and treated him like it.

But his big brother was missing, and he couldn’t control the waterworks.

He was there. He’d been so sure Tech was right there, bringing up the rear behind him and Omega. He wouldn’t run off and miss this trip for anything. He hadn’t stopped talking about their vacation to Eriadu since Uncle 99 set the date on the calendar in the kitchen. He’d told all his teachers and the librarians and the mail lady and the cashiers at the grocery store and basically everybody who’d listen. Tech was so excited to go. He wouldn’t run away.

But what else could’ve happened?

Wrecker remembered gulping as he looked at some of the long drops off the cliff sides. He didn’t want to think about Tech falling down, down, so far… but his brain wouldn’t shut up and stop thinking about it either. He backed away from the edge and tried to calm his nerves, try to breathe and focus like 99 taught him, even as his heart pounded and his hands shook a little. He hated heights.

He hated even more the thought of his brother being yanked down from such a high spot by gravity. There wasn’t even anything to grab onto.

He tried really hard not to think about the canyon as the weeks passed. As the weeks turned into months and spring gave way to summer.

Instead, he tried to think about all the things he’d tell Tech had happened when he got back. Like visiting Crosshair in juvie and talking on the phone through the scratched-up bulletproof glass. Telling him how bad their baby brother looked in orange. Telling him their brother was bald now, hair completely shaved off. How there was a sale on Tech’s favorite sour cream chips at the store so Wrecker grabbed three bags to stick away for when he was back. They’d stay good for a while if they weren’t opened. And he’d tell Tech how Sterling spewed milk out of his nose at lunch one of the last days they were at school and now he’d probably be remembered for that forever. And how there was a big Light Wars marathon on tv so Wrecker hit record so Tech could watch them later but he forgot they already had the movies on dvd so it was kind of pointless, oops. And also there was a new freeze bar at the ice cream truck now, and he tried it already and it was really yummy.

99 said it was good to think about what he’d tell Tech when he got back. What he’d like to do together when his brother was brought home. Wrecker had beamed at that—he was doing something right for once. Usually his instincts were the wrong ones, as Crosshair liked to say, so it made him happy to know this time he was doing something good. “Healthy”.

He was already plotting the best sleepover of all sleepovers.

“It’s not really a sleepover if you guys live in the same house,” Fives hedged, clearly wanting to let him down easy.

“Okay, but, we’re gonna do all the stuff you do at sleepovers,” Wrecker argued. “Like eat popcorn and watch movies and play games and do prank calls.”

“Fair enough,” his cousin shrugged.

He had it all planned out. They’d order pizza: plain cheese for his brother because Tech hated pizza with toppings, and Wrecker’d get pepperoni because it was the best pizza physically possible. They’d play board games because Tech liked trivia games because he was really good at basically all the categories except pop culture, which Wrecker smoked everyone else at. They’d probably also play Tech’s Light Wars trivia game because… well, his brother had been gone a long time, he deserved it, even if Wrecker hated that game deep-down (it wasn’t really a fair match: Tech could recite all those facts in his sleep).

Then they’d have melty ice cream and warm, fresh cookies in a bowl because that was Wrecker’s specialty. He called it a Cookie Bowl and it was going to sweep the Republic once he grew up, and he’d get rich and famous off the combinations and retire to his mansion with a big pool. Tech had been one of the first taste testers for the Cookie Bowl idea and had loved it, so obviously they had to have that for his welcome home sleepover.

And then they’d make some prank calls, which Tech probably wouldn’t do but he’d sit back and giggle while Wrecker and Hunter and Crosshair did it (he wasn’t sure if Omega’d participate. He’d never made a prank call with her before). And Wrecker would get out the glittery nail polish he took from his sister because she got it as a Life Day gift but had zero interest, and he’d paint him and his brothers’ nails really careful, because makeovers were part of a sleepover (he’d seen it on tv) but they barely had any hair except for Hunter, and they didn’t have any makeup, so nail polish would have to do.

After that, they could eat popcorn and watch movies. Tech would get to pick because it was a sleepover for him, but Wrecker wouldn’t mind so much because his brother was back home. And then 99 would probably tell them to go to bed, but they’d stay up secretly and make shadow puppets and talk about dumb stuff because even dumb stuff was funny when you were tired.

He couldn’t wait for Tech to come back. Surely, they’d find him soon. Maybe some nice person living nearby had found him. Maybe his brother had been living in the park, surviving off berries and watching birds. Maybe…

He really shouldn’t think too much about the canyon. He always started feeling really stressed out, like his brain was getting fried by the thoughts of what had happened to his brother. It was enough to make it hard to fall asleep at night, hugging Lula and repeating over and over to himself he was okay, just go to sleep, you’re okay, you’re okay, go to sleep, go to sleep…

He just wanted Tech to come home.

“Last night a vigil was held for a local ten year old, Tiber Fett. Members of the community gathered to support the boy’s family, who they say are hoping Tiber will be found any day now. Tiber has been missing since Sanyu twenty-ninth of this year after he disappeared during a family vacation to the Carrion Plateau National Park in the Eriadu province…”

“... If anyone has a tip for investigators, you are encouraged to contact authorities at…”

“And now we have a word from the boy’s uncle and guardian…”

“Tech, if you’re able to hear this, can you let us know you’re out there? We just want to know you’re safe, ad’ika. Please… come home. We love you so much, and… we miss you every day.”

Chapter 4: Birthday Cake

Chapter Text

Tech’s birthday was coming up soon.

Summer had been weird; not as fun as it usually was. She went swimming with Lyana and played outside, riding bikes, going to the ice cream truck every time it came by, watching fireflies when the sun had mostly gone down.

Tech had explained how the fireflies worked last summer, when they were all still new to and getting to know each other. He said they glowed because of bioluminescence, and helped her catch one in a glass jar to look at for a little bit before they walked out to the edge of the backyard, to the fence that blocked them off from the field and the woods and mountains beyond, and then let the little firefly go. Back to its family and home.

The adults around her thought she couldn’t hear the times they talked in hushed voices. Words like “kidnapped” and “abducted” flitted back and forth in the space between them. And her brother’s name, always.

She pictured Tech as a little firefly, trapped by someone in a jar as they looked at him, inspected him like he was nothing more than a bug. They hadn’t let him go yet. Back to his home and his family, like she and Tech had let that one little firefly go. She was very worried it wouldn’t find its way home.

“We only kept it for about 30 minutes,” Tech told her as he unscrewed the metal lid. “It’ll remember its way back.”

He held up the jar on its side, shaking it forward a little, and the firefly seemed to realize after a moment that it could leave. They watched as it flew out of the glass into the night, losing sight of it quickly as it disappeared into the dim light of evening. Until it gave one more little flicker of its light, happy to be free again.

“It’s nothing concrete,” Cody muttered when he thought she wasn’t nearby to listen. “We don’t know that somebody took him.”

They didn’t know, but Omega had seen enough news and read enough books to fear the strong possibility. She struggled to sleep at night as she thought of someone taking her brother. Scooping him up, hauling him into a car and locking the doors. Driving away and never letting him go home.

What if one of her other brothers was next? What if she was next?

She’d started sleeping in Uncle 99’s bed. He was big and tough and brave and she felt comfier in his big cozy bed. He held her hand so she could fall asleep, and helped her go back to sleep even if she had a bad dream. They had hot chocolate in the middle of the night sometimes. And even though she was definitely not a baby (she was 8 years old now, she was a big kid), she liked it when 99 rocked her back and forth. It was soothing, and made her feel safe.

He told her lots of times to think about good things. It would “take her mind off” the bad stuff, help her have a better day each day. Not feel so scared all the time. So she tried.

She wasn’t very successful a lot of times. Her anxiety was really bad, worse than anyone else’s. But she really, honestly tried to “keep it together”, like Hunter was doing.

It helped when it got closer to Tech’s birthday, because then she seized on the opportunity to plan his party. Her brothers usually had a big party all together since their birthdays were right after another across four days, but when she asked, they all agreed they’d let Tech have whatever he wanted this year. They had lots of birthdays to have their own themes and snacks and games, but Tech could have it be about just him.

So Omega got to planning. Her brother had bad experiences with birthday parties, she’d been told, so they didn’t invite classmates anymore. But she could still invite Phee, because she knew they were bffs like she and Lyana were.

She knew her brother loved the zoo, but he also loved the aquarium, and the local museums, and the library–

This was getting hard to narrow down.

“Why don’t we just have something lowkey at home?” 99 suggested. “He might be a little overwhelmed when he comes back, so sticking close to the house’ll probably be best this year.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, scribbling that down in her notebook and crossing out her location ideas. Missing the way 99’s expression fell once she’d turned her back to him.

First things first, she wondered what to do for a cake…

“He doesn’t like a ton of icing,” Hunter reminded.

“Do buttercream!” Wrecker insisted.

“But what about the cake underneath?” Omega pressed, frustrated all her brothers could think about was the frosting.

“Uhhhh, yellow.”

Hunter shook his head. “He likes white cake. Really soft.”

“What about ice cream cake?” Wrecker suggested.

“No, he doesn’t like ice cream cake,” Hunter rejected.

Omega hurriedly wrote all this down, regretting asking her brothers’ opinions because of all the scratched-out lines in her notebook now. Maybe she should ask someone who was more decisive…

She asked Cody for help calling Crosshair to get his opinion on the subject. He was standoffish but he could make decisions, so he’d give her less contradictory answers than Hunter and Wrecker.

“Hello,” he answered flatly.

“What kind of cake should we get Tech for his birthday?” She asked in a rush.

“... What?”

“I’m planning Tech’s birthday party,” she explained, more slowly this time. “What cake do you think he’d want?”

“... What makes you so sure he’ll be back for his birthday?” Crosshair asked.

She felt an itching, hot feeling crawl up her back, flushing her face and neck. “J-just in case,” she stammered. “Please?”

She heard him sigh over the line, and a long pause before he finally replied: “Strawberry.”

“Really?” She asked, surprise making her eyebrows lift.

“Remember those strawberry cupcakes we made?” Crosshair recalled. “He inhaled so many.”

“... So strawberry cupcakes instead of cake?”

“No, do a cake. So he can blow out candles.”

She scribbled that down. “What other food should we do?”

“Cheese pizza. Thin crust, extra sauce, extra cheese, no other toppings,” Crosshair said, tone strict in his instructions. “Don’t do doritos for chips, it clashes with the pizza. Tortilla chips, the cafe style that’s greasy and salty.”

“Slow down, slow down, hang on,” Omega said hurriedly, frantically writing all the details.

“... Ready?” He asked after giving her a moment.

“Ready.”

“Milkshakes, not plain ice cream. Have whipped cream on hand. Not the fancy crap, he hates the taste. Get the generic kind. And get that special soda in the glass bottles. That’s his all-time favorite.”

She knew the kind. Tech was reluctant but nice enough to share it with her before, even though it was a special treat they only had once in a while.

“Need anything else?” Crosshair asked.

“What theme should we do? What do you think he’d like?”

“Light Wars. Come on, give me a hard question.”

Was he… teasing her? It sounded like it, oddly enough.

“What present should we get him? I think we’re going to the big toy store this weekend to look.”

“Like I’m supposed to know what toys they have on the shelves nowadays,” he scoffed, sounding irritable now.

Omega almost sighed. His moods shifted so fast, it was hard to keep up.

“Come on, Crosshair, please?” She begged. “You know everything else Tech likes.”

Another, louder sigh. “... There any new games that came out recently?”

“... Maybe. I could check, or maybe ask Cody or something.”

“Ask him. He’ll know. Or one of his army buddies will,” Crosshair said. He shuffled on the other end, and she thought she heard someone talking distantly before he brought the receiver back up to his face. “Look, I have to go, I still have school.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Crosshair.”

“... You’re welcome,” he replied quietly, and then the hangup tone sounded, the automated voice rattling off its usual message.

“Brii-ka-se go-ta’tuur bah gar. Brii-ka-se go-ta’tuur bah gar. Brii-ka-se go-ta’tuur, Tech’i-kaaaa. Brii-ka-se go-ta’tuur bah gar.”

“Okay, blow out the candles for your brother!”

“Phffftt!”

“Gross, I think the wax dripped.”

“I’m not eating that piece!”

“I’m tellin’ Tech you got wax on his cake!”

“You got that on video, right?”

“Yeah,” -pfft- “I got it. Di’kut’ikase…”

“Happy birthday, Tech! We miss you!”

“Happy birthdayyyyy!”

Chapter 5: Autumn Leaves

Chapter Text

It felt like he was living in a bizarro world, starting a new year of school without two of his brothers. Just him, Wrecker, and Omega waiting for the bus.

He tried to ignore the way other kids at their stop stared at them. The whispers he could faintly hear.

“–one’s in jail–”

“–didn’t the other one die or something–”

“–nah, just missing–”

“– still haven’t found him?”

The whispers continued in the hallways. When he slid into a desk in the back, hoping to be ignored, he could still hear them. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe they were real. He didn’t know. They just wouldn’t stop.

He supposed he should be grateful. At least he knew where Crosshair was, technically. Even if he worried about his youngest brother, being locked up like he was. But he still had school, he could still read books, watch tv, go to bed and wake up in the morning. He was still, assuredly, completely, confirmed to be alive and breathing. Just separated by barbed wire and cinder block for now.

He didn’t feel very grateful.

Tech wasn’t in the halls. He wasn’t at his locker, swapping textbooks out. He wasn’t in PE, complaining under his breath about having to play kickball. He wasn’t at lunch, pulling snack after snack out of his lunchbox like a magician doing a scarf trick. He wasn’t at recess, darting to the swings with…

Phee.

She was by herself now. Like she’d been last spring. She sat on a swing, but didn’t move, just let the wind sway her a little back and forth.

He’d been so envious before. So angry that she was stealing Tech away all the time. He only ever wanted to hang out with Phee , not his own brothers, and that had bothered Hunter in so many ways he didn’t have words for.

He thought he’d feel more smug about the fact she was alone now.

But he just felt nothing as he walked past her to the basketball court.

It was difficult to muster any feeling about anything these days.

He could barely get through his homework this year. He understood it, but he just… couldn’t make himself do it. Open the book. Grab a pencil. Write anything at all. Every time he looked up, the dining table was less one brother with too-big glasses, and Hunter couldn’t focus because he’d start thinking about the canyon again. So he scribbled absently back and forth, until he got too tired to even do that, and laid his head down until it was time for dinner.

Mother had only ever called to talk about school or medical reports after she sent them to live with 99. Her voice was razor thin when she found out his grades were tanking.

Part of him snapped to attention, terrified to go against her, to fail, to not follow the rules. But that part was drowned out by his inability to care.

“Listen,” Cody pulled him aside, “we all miss Tech. We’re all worried about him. I know. But doing nothing isn’t gonna help anything.”

“Doing homework isn’t gonna help anything either,” Hunter muttered.

His cousin grasped his shoulder firmly. “Yeah, it will. Your mom’s already pissed your brother’s locked up. She was pissed she got questioned by police after Tech…” Cody trailed off, shaking his head swiftly. “So you doing even the bare minimum will keep her off your back. Okay?”

“The bare minimum?” Hunter echoed, a little confused as he met the man’s eyes.

“Yeah. Bare minimum. I don’t need you to get perfect scores like before. I just need you to pass.” He squeezed, surprisingly gently. “Can you do that much?”

“... Yeah,” he rasped.

His cousin’s arms wrapped around him felt warm. Safe.

He could do this.

That was about all he could do, as the weeks slipped away and the air got colder, leaves losing all life and beginning to drop off. But he kept his word to Cody. He’d scrape by.

Omega was the only one who bothered dressing up to go trick or treating. Hunter stayed home with Wrecker and watched cartoon specials. Echo made… brownies, sort of, but they were overdone and dry.

Wrecker made the football team again, up one level from last season. The games were something to pass the time, Hunter found. Everything was just a way to pass the time, really. He wished it would move faster. Wished the holidays that intermittently popped up would last longer, just for the distraction everyone else provided. He didn’t enjoy himself, but it kept his mind better occupied by things that weren’t his brother.

His brother who would have been fighting him daily to avoid wearing a coat again, like he did every single autumn because he loathed the changeover of temperatures and clothing. This being the same kid who always told them “change is inevitable”. Talk about a quakta calling the stiffling slimy.

He wished his brother was here to moan and gripe about switching to winter clothes. To clap his gloved hands over his ears at Wrecker’s games when the refs blew the whistle, or the crowd got too rowdy. To beg to get coffee from the drive-thru and then gulp it all down before they even got home.

But he was starting to feel less blurry and numb all over as fall slowly came to a close. He didn’t feel good by any means, didn’t feel anything remotely resembling “fine”. But he felt less awful, less like life was completely unbearable, so he was calling that a win.

Life Day decorations had already gone up and ads were in full-swing. That had become a solid distraction. 99 asked for all their lists so he could make sure he bought everything early.

“Where did you even see a gingerbread house, anyway?” He asked his sister as they stepped into the house.

“I saw it in a library book. Please, can we decorate one?” Omega pleaded, giving him puppy-dog eyes as they approached the kitchen.

“Alright, alright. I bet we can find one at the store. They have kits with all the… stuff…” He trailed off, Omega turning her head as they saw 99 with the house phone held to his ear, posture rigid.

“You found something?” Their uncle asked, turning around and frowning when he spied the two of them, raising his hand to gesture them to leave.

Hunter shooed his sister away, mouthing to go turn on the tv and set up the xbox for them to play. Omega eyed him, but thankfully acquiesced and ambled off to the living room. He pretended to follow her, then swiftly moved to stand against the wall outside the kitchen, trying to relax so he could properly hear past the pulse in his ears.

“... Dental records?” 99’s voice was faint.

Hunter felt his stomach drop, pressing his palms to the drywall as he listened closer.

“Yes, I… I’ll call the dentist and… and have them send his file over.” 99 hesitated, and Hunter thought he’d be able to hear a pin drop, the way he couldn’t even hear his uncle breathing for a moment.

“Was there anything else there? Any sign of–” He broke off, Hunter very faintly hearing an unintelligible voice on the other end of the phone. “Do I need to… come identify him?”

Cold.

All Hunter could feel was cold.

He couldn’t breathe.

“What do you mean there isn’t enough left?”

“Our officers at the Sundari Police Department have confirmed that the human remains recovered from the Carrion Plateau National Park, are that of missing 10 year old Tiber Fett. The coroner’s office confirmed the boy died from his injuries after falling from the canyon cliff. Therefore, foul play has been ruled out. The child’s family has been notified, and we are officially closing the case.”

Chapter 6: In Memoriam

Chapter Text

Gotala “Tech” Fett, age 10, of Sundari, has passed away after a fatal fall while hiking. He was recovered after several months missing.

Tech was born in Tipoca City on 09/02/99 to Dr. Nala Se. He attended Sundari Valley Middle School. He was a gifted, hardworking student. He loved reading, programming, collecting lego sets, and playing video games with his brothers. Tech wanted to be a paramedic when he grew up.

He is survived by his mother, Dr. Nala Se; uncle, Shek’etacu Fett; cousins, Kote, Alor, Rayshe’a, Eyayah; brothers, Oyala, Jarila, Lenedar, Kyryc; and many more family and friends who will miss him dearly.

A memorial service will be held at Sundari Community Funeral Home on Benduday, Shieryu 4, 2010 at 14:00.

She’d been to a couple of funerals before, but this one felt… surreal. Like trying to run in a dream, as if moving through thick syrup that wasn’t really there, everything passing by in a blur that you couldn’t focus on, even if you turned your head for a better look.

The people in attendance were a monochromatic mix of grays, blacks, and whites. Different funerary customs combining to make the attire devoid of color.

Her family wore gray. It was Mandalorian custom. And Tech is… was… had been Mandalorian. It only felt right to do that small thing for him.

8 months missing. 8 months she’d kept hoping someone would get a call, someone would have seen something. Maybe Tech had miraculously made his way home on his own. He was resourceful. She could believe it, if she ignored… the circ*mstances. He’d be home eventually. Someday.

8 months of hoping. And yet he’d died the day he vanished.

Shep had heard from 99 what the police found. She felt sorry for the older man. Even over the phone he sounded so… small. And beaten down. Nothing like his usual firm, commanding voice. Or the lighthearted tone he took with the boys.

“Phee,” Shep had tried to brush her off. Tried to placate, give her the vague version. The version that would still leave her brain desperate for answers. That wouldn’t let her believe the finality because she might still hope it wasn’t him. Hope the cops had made a mistake. They did that so often. What made them so sure they were right this time?

“I have to know,” she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Trying to blink away the building pressure behind her eyes, the waterworks threatening to take over. “He’s my best friend,” she whispered.

Shep bowed his head for a moment, letting out a deep sigh as his shoulders slumped. Then he told her.

The truth.

The whole, full, terrible truth.

When the first searches took place, a volunteer found one of Tech’s beloved action figures along the riverbank at the bottom of the canyon.

A couple weeks ago, a hiker found a skull a little ways up the river bank after a storm. Just a little downstream from where the toy had been.

Police turned up a few more pieces when they went out to dig further into the dirt. She didn’t ask which pieces. She didn’t want to know.

It wasn’t hard for anyone to put two and two together. He fell somehow, plummeting from the cliff into the river below. Most likely hitting a rock beneath the surface. The canyon’s conditions were harsh. Water and wild animals and sun all meant he would’ve decomposed quickly.

There was barely anything left to bury.

She regretted asking Shep to tell her. She’d wanted the truth, the facts, but…

The reality of her friend truly being gone hit her like a semi truck.

The initial emotion passed after the first day, the first night of weeping, and now she couldn’t feel much of anything. Phee wasn’t sure which she preferred: too much, or nothing at all.

“It’s only been a few days,” her sister murmured gently as she helped tie back her locs. “It takes time.”

They debated leaving Lyana with a sitter, until the girl herself had adamantly refused. “Omega needs me,” she insisted, holding her head high in defiance. So sure that she could be of help, somehow, even in the face of such grief.

Phee wished she could be sure whether his brothers needed her, too.

She had never been less sure of so many things in her life. It should’ve been disconcerting.

But she couldn’t even feel that much.

They were some of the first to arrive, greeting 99 and the rest with expressions of sorrow, how tragic this whole situation had been. Phee passively studied the siblings’ faces. Hunter looked numb, the same way she felt, his hair tied back but wild, untamed wisps still falling into his face. He kept absently tugging at the tie around his neck, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth until he drew blood.

Wrecker was… well, a wreck. His whole face was tear-streaked and his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes couldn’t meet anyone else’s as his lip wobbled despite the desperate set of his jaw against the sobs that occasionally broke through. He kept wiping his runny nose on his suit sleeve until one of the older cousins finally found him a tissue box for him to carry around.

Omega almost swayed on her feet, as if buffeted by everyone’s tense emotions on all sides. Her mop of hair fell in her face—uncombed, as if she’d barely been able to crawl out of bed. That was probably the truth. Someone had still wrangled her into a little suit of her own, but she was disheveled even so. She clung to her favorite doll like it was a lifeline, its fabric damp with tears.

Crosshair had come. There was an armed officer escorting him, but someone had let him swap his prison oranges for something just as numbly, hazily gray as the rest of them. He had dark circles under his eyes and glared at anyone who looked at him for too long, keeping his arms crossed tightly against himself as he hunched his shoulders.

More people trickled in. People with the same shade of tan skin as the rest of the Fett clan she knew. Relatives, must be. Then teachers she recognized from school. Their swim coach. Some of their peers, who Phee distantly in the middle of the fog, far far in the back of her head, almost scoffed at. They couldn’t even bother to show up at Tech’s birthday party last year, but they came to his funeral?

You’re not his friends, she wanted to say.

Either her upbringing or her exhaustion kept her rooted to the metal folding chair, tongue unmoved, voice silent. But her eyes followed them, some of them glancing up to meet her gaze, having at least some sliver of decency to look sheepish as she tracked them across the room.

Yeah, I know you. You blocked him from the swings until I pulled your ponytail. And I know you, because you made fun of his shoes. And I remember you: you tried to get him kicked off the academic team. And you’re the one who stole his backpack keychain. And you made fun of him for stimming.

You’re not his friends.

One of the last to arrive was a strange woman. Towering over most, thin and severe-looking. Looking nothing at all like she was touched by grief, even carrying an air of superiority as she glided down the aisles to seat herself directly in front. Phee had to wonder what this kind of person could possibly be doing here. What connection could she have–

“Mama,” Omega whimpered, reaching for the woman as her chin wobbled.

Oh.

Oh.

She watched as the woman put a hand on Omega’s back, almost seeming nurturing, comforting, before lightly pushing her away. “You will be fine,” she intoned, and so many things suddenly made sense about her friends.

About Tech.

Why his first instinct was to clear something with Hunter, rather than an adult. Why he was hesitant to give affection of any kind. Why he was more nervous around girls, women especially, as if he were walking on eggshells around them.

Did his mom even care that he’d died?

Part of Phee was aghast at the question, chiding herself for making assumptions. Maybe the woman kept her feelings to herself, maybe–

But she’d pushed Omega away in the middle of her tears. And Tech had been explicit in naming Omega as his mother’s favorite. No bitterness in his voice; a simple statement of fact. “Mother loves her more than us.”

The woman, the doctor , made a face every time 99 and the others called out in Mando’a during the service. Phee only recognized a scant few words, but she got the spirit of it. Giving her friend a final send-off before he was laid permanently to rest.

She didn’t know what she believed about any kind of afterlife, but she hoped he really could rest, finally. Be at peace. Nothing to overwhelm him, no more endless thoughts keeping him awake all night, no more worries or anxieties. He could sleep forever now.

Her sister had her wrapped in her arms before she realized she was crying again. The finality triggered fresh tears, every time she thought about the fact she’d truly never see her friend again.

She just wanted to say goodbye.

Give him one last hug.

Tell him how glad she was that he was her friend.

He was supposed to come back. Show her the pictures he took with his little disposable camera. Tell her all about the mountains and canyons, if he saw any fossils, if he brought back any cool rocks.

He was supposed to come back .

Chapter 7: Burial

Chapter Text

Cody was the one to tell him.

He came in person, sitting at one of the cafeteria tables as a guard led Crosshair in by the arm. He’d gotten used to the cuffs on his wrists by then, but they felt heavier as he saw his cousin’s face. Felt pinpricks of sweat beneath his skin and a cold rush down his back.

“What?” He asked, watching Cody’s eyes shift, unable to meet his for a moment before he somehow found the courage.

A deep, shuddering breath. “They found your brother.”

Silence stretched between them, across the speckled, formica table. He could hear hushed conversations at the other two occupied tables. Other visits. Other families.

“He’s dead, isn’t he,” Crosshair said, ears ringing louder and louder the more seconds bled by. He couldn’t feel the cold beneath his jumpsuit anymore. Couldn’t feel anything about his body anymore. He was watching himself now from over his own shoulder, eyes darting to Cody, to his own head, and back.

It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need to ask.

He knew.

Cody nodded, once, clenching his jaw as he looked away, at the cinder block wall, blinking rapidly. “I’m… sorry, Cross.”

He watched himself shrug. As if that somehow sufficed. As if that somehow worked as a response. As if somehow… that could encompass everything he felt. Thought.

He couldn’t cry. Weakness was sniffed out like blood in the water here.

He couldn’t cry, because he physically couldn’t feel anything building up.

He couldn’t cry, because there was nothing left in his heart.

Only a vast emptiness.

They were getting permission from a judge to let him out for the funeral. He didn’t have anything to say in response to that. Cody hugged him, and then he was lead away, back to his block. He didn’t speak to the guard either, the silence long between them and only broken by the scuffing of his sandals on the tile floor, the light jangle of the cuffs on his wrists. The sound of the solid metal door shutting behind him, locking him in his cell again.

Mayday came back from the yard sometime later. Crosshair hadn’t bothered to keep the time. Just laid on his bunk and stared at the brown rippled water stains on the ceiling. It was like all his thoughts had completely shut off, and he could no longer think at all.

“You okay?” Mayday asked as he climbed up to poke his head over the edge of Crosshair’s bunk.

“Mm,” he managed, vaguely. The air barely hitting his vocal chords enough to make a sound at all.

“Did Hardass call you in or something?”

He couldn’t reply. His head felt too heavy to shake ‘no’. Blinking was automatic, or else that might not even be happening.

“Well. I’m here if you wanna talk, man,” Mayday said, and patted his shoulder before he climbed back down.

He fell asleep at some point. He wasn’t sure when, but the sun had gone down, moonlight showing through the tiny window, so it was definitely night. That was all he knew. Not that he really cared.

He normally tried to eat as much as possible during breakfast so he could skip lunch, as nasty as it usually was, but all he could do was pick at the cereal with his spoon, cheek heavily resting on his hand.

“My brother’s dead,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure if it was to himself or a confession to Mayday across the table.

He saw Hexx and Veetch turn their eyes on him, exchanging frowns with each other. Hesitantly, he looked up at Mayday, and saw his friend’s face fall rapidly, good mood forgotten all together.

“Cross… I’m so sorry–”

“Do they actually let you out for a funeral?” He quickly interrupted, skin crawling at the apology still filtering into his ringing ears.

His tablemates exchanged more glances. “Sometimes. Depends on if you’ve been acting up, I think,” Veetch replied.

“Yeah, and how bad you messed up to get in here in the first place,” Hexx added.

Crosshair closed his eyes, pushing his bowl away and pressing the heels of his palms to his forehead. “sh*t.”

“Hey.” Mayday lightly tapped his socked foot against Crosshair’s leg under the table. “It’s not like you killed anybody. And you’re definitely not any worse than the Haxion guys. The judge’ll let you out for your brother.”

He didn’t lift his head. “You don’t know that.”

“I’ve been in here a while, man. I know how sh*t goes. It’ll be okay.”

Lo and behold, by the end of the week, his cellmate turned out to be right. As usual. He was watching tv when the guards came to take him outside, to “the great beyond”. As they took his arms and lead him away, Crosshair glanced back at his friend and saw Mayday grin and give him a double thumbs up.

Rex was there with a plastic grocery bag of clothes to change into. The shirt and slacks fit tighter than they used to. Guess he must’ve grown, at some point. The air outside was cold, and the cop car wasn’t much warmer. He wondered how hard it’d be to dig a grave when it was this cold out. How deep did the ground freeze?

Tech would’ve known.

He didn’t cry at the thought. He wasn’t going to break down in front of the cops as they walked across the parking lot. He wasn’t going to break down in front of his brothers and cousins.

And he wasn’t going to break down in front of his uncle, either. The second he saw the man’s face, the red around his eyes, Crosshair locked everything down further, shoving it all deeper into the pits of himself where it couldn’t surface.

If he’d been given time to prepare, he might’ve played something on his violin for his brother. Tech always liked to hear him perform. Watching enraptured as his fingers and bow glided across the instrument tucked under his chin.

But he hadn’t been able to touch it in months. It’d probably have sounded like garbage after all this time.

His cousins got up one at a time to speak. Talk about Tech, how much he meant to them. How much they missed him. Crosshair let his eyes slide over the people in attendance. Mother caught his eye, but he turned his head deliberately away. He recognized teachers from school. That girl Tech had befriended. Former classmates.

It made him angry, looking around at so many of the people here. He recognized faces he’d seen jeer and taunt his brother repeatedly. Kids and adults. Bullying him for something he couldn’t help, just because of how his brain worked and made him act and talk.

If he were braver, he’d get up and say something when 99 asked if he wanted to.

If he were tougher, he’d stand up there at that podium and tell all of them exactly what he thought of them.

If he were stronger, he’d tell them what awful people they were for making his brother miserable.

But he was scared, so he told 99 no.

But he was small, so he sat there, fisting his suit jacket in his hands and stewing in his rage.

But he was weak, so his throat dried up, letting no sound escape.

He wanted his brother to know what he’d meant to Crosshair. To know how sorry he was they’d been apart in Tech’s final months, because of Crosshair’s own stupid, horrible decisions. He wanted Tech to know how badly he’d missed him while he was in lockup. How much he’d ached to go out there and help look for him in that canyon, knowing he could have found something with his sharp eyesight, if only they had just let him go . How many nights he’d spent lying awake, hoping against all odds that his brother was okay, even if he was far away.

And he wished he could have the guts to defend Tech to all these assholes sitting around pretending to be sad his brother had died, when they’d spent his short life trying to break him.

The service faded away. His cousins carried the casket, already sealed shut forever. There was nothing inside he’d want to see. Even if his brother had been recovered right away… Crosshair wouldn’t want that to be the last memory he had of his brother’s face. Cold and lifeless, in a suit he always complained about wearing because it clung to his skin and made him sweat and itch all over.

Bones didn't have to be forced into wearing a suit.

The cemetery was pretty quiet, aside from Wrecker’s continued bawling. Lots of trees. The willows’ long, brush-like arms reached downward to brush him as he passed underneath. It was almost soothing, in a way. Like the trees themselves were sorry his brother was gone.

And yet… He wasn’t comforted. He’d finally broken in the car ride over there, and Hunter must have too, because they made a lineup of tear-streaked faces in suits as they walked in the procession to the freshly-dug grave. Like ducklings all in a row.

Minus one.

The upturned earth smelled foul to his nose as the coffin was lowered down, and worsened by the sickening anger twisting in his stomach as he looked around at the people who continued to feign grief. Who gave his uncle their “condolences” before they began to leave. Unbroken by Tech’s absence. Unbothered. They’d fulfilled their social obligation and now they were going back to their boring lives. They didn’t have to worry about if they’d even celebrate Life Day this year like his family did.

What pushed him fully to the edge was when Tech’s former math teacher began to depart with her husband. The woman who’d mocked Tech for asking for help multiple times in her class, who Tech had surmised must hate him because she always criticized and made fun of him in front of everyone. He caught the callous words over his shoulder as he heard them leave, and he was too stunned to move.

“Do you want to catch a movie?”

A movie.

His brother was dead, and all she cared about was going to see a movie.

He prided himself a little on not turning around to shout at her. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms so painfully he was near to breaking the skin, but he kept his mouth shut. Even as the rage threatened to boil over completely. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of the precipice, trying to remain on solid ground, feeling himself wave his arms wildly the more angry he became.

Then a classmate strolled up to him and his siblings, while their parents were busy making small talk with 99. That was the last straw.

“Sorry about your brother.”

“Thanks,” Hunter muttered, hands shoved deep into his pockets and gaze fixated on the still-open grave, watching absently as people continued to drop flowers down into it.

“Guess you’ve got one less thing to deal with now, at least.”

Crosshair’s gaze snapped up simultaneously with his oldest brother, balking at the other boy.

“What?” Hunter asked, voice far away.

The boy gave him a greasy, not quite sincere smile. “No more watching him, making sure he doesn’t spaz out or something. Must be a relief, right?”

Hunter visibly froze as the kid smacked his arm in an attempt at camaraderie. Crosshair only heard himself exhale, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

His feet shifted, arm already pulling backward like a loaded spring, ready to explode forward and beat the kid senseless. Cop escort be damned. His brother’s funeral be damned–

A flash of wild blonde hair across his vision was all the warning he had to step back out of the line of fire, watching almost in slow-motion as his tiny sister brought her doll up like a weapon, striking the kid with the doll’s hard plastic head. Its eyes rattled like music to Crosshair’s ears as he watched the boy drop like a rock, falling awkwardly and unceremoniously rolling backward. Directly into the open pit.

“I would’ve handled him,” Crosshair mumbled as they walked back to the cars later, chewing his lip as he replayed the events over in his head. Pictured the kid wailing in terror as he had to be helped out. It almost made a smile tug at his mouth.

“I know,” Omega replied, hugging her doll tightly to her chest with both arms. “But I didn’t want you to get in even bigger trouble.”

He stopped for a moment, surprised. He hadn’t expected her to have thought about him at all: they barely knew each other for more than a couple weeks before he was sentenced to cinder blocks and a thin orange jumpsuit for a year. Sure, she wanted to talk to him on the phone sometimes, but he hadn’t thought that counted. Why factor him into the equation?

“Why?” He asked as he strode to bridge the paces separating them.

She looked up at him then, brown eyes that perfectly matched his, and her face spoke volumes. As if to say, I thought you were smarter than this. “Because you’re my brother too.”

It struck him then. He wasn’t getting in deeper trouble for acts he definitely wanted to commit while temporarily released. Trouble that would mean an even longer stint in jail, separated from his family. His sister had been the one to strike that arrogant asshole, defending their brother and bringing down the doll-shaped hammer of justice. She cared about him, somehow. Cared enough to step between him and his own impulses, stop him from ruining his own life before he was 12. Even though he wasn’t the touchy-feely type, he could’ve hugged her for it.

So he did.

And if he pretended really hard, closed his eyes even, it was almost like the sunshine on their backs felt like Tech smiling on them both.

Gotala “Tech” Fett
Beloved nephew and brother

02 Jiuyu 1999
29 Sanyu 2010

The hard part wasn’t losing you.
It is learning to live without you.

Chapter 8: Life Day

Chapter Text

The tree might not’ve been put up this year if they hadn’t already done it by the time 99 got the call from the police.

It almost felt like the shiny baubles and cheery figurines hanging from the branches were mocking them every time they walked past it.

For Echo’s part, he felt guilty to be relieved.

He wasn’t happy, not by any stretch of the imagination. He broke down crying almost spontaneously throughout the day, and he knew he wouldn’t be eating at all if he didn’t have a tube feeding him regularly. He could barely sleep at night, and the dark circles under his eyes somehow kept getting worse, which he hadn’t thought was possible. He’d definitely flunked his finals before the winter break, unable to muster anything, be it learned information or simple motivation to color in the bubbles on the paper. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t know if he’d ever be happy again.

But part of him flushed with relief when Ninety-Nine broke the news.

It had been months of worry over where his cousin was, months wondering if he was out there, if he was okay, if someone had hurt him or not. Months not wanting to believe him dead but struggling to hold onto hope he was still alive. Echo thought he was going crazy the longer this went on. He’d cling to any scrap of hope while still trying to remain rational, relentlessly beating back the dark, monstrous thing in the back of his head that whispered over and over “he’s dead, you have to accept it”. He refused to listen to it. Refused to give up on his cousin, feeling like he’d be betraying him if he did. Tech would come back one day. He just had to keep hoping, keep going, keep living. And wait.

Even if the waiting might unwind his brain completely.

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

Where is he?

Is he safe?

Is he hurt?

Did someone take him?

Is he scared?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

Where is he?

Is he safe?

Is he hurt?

Did someone take him?

Is he scared?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

What if he’s dead?

What if he’s alive?

Where is he?

Is he safe?

Is he hurt?

Did someone take him?

Is he scared?

Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. Echo could scarcely hear himself think some days, his mind just replaying those same questions until he felt sick, nerves buzzing, teeth on edge. Movement only helped temporarily. As soon as he stopped, they came back full force, roaring in his head, demanding to be answered definitively. He despised unknowns, always had. It was something he and Tech had bonded over plenty of times. They had to know the truth, even if it was uncomfortable. They had to know what was factual, what was real.

He didn’t know what had happened to Tech. No one did. And the wondering without any answers was slowly killing him.

So to finally have confirmation what had happened, one way or another, put his mind to rest, in a way.

Tech was gone. He wasn’t coming home ever again. It was a sure fact.

The guilt ate Echo alive.

How could he feel relief to know his cousin was dead? What the hell was wrong with him?

He still hadn’t told his therapist. He couldn’t admit it. Not to her, not to his brother, not to Ninety-Nine, not to anyone. He would take that wretched secret to his grave if he had to.

The ornaments on the tree watched him reproachfully whenever he was in their sights. It was stupid and crazy to think that, but he constantly worried someone would find out how he felt. And then they would uncover how he had rebuked his cousin the last time he ever saw him, a secret Echo had kept from Hunter and the other, younger boys, out of writhing, nauseating guilt. And then his family would remember how he had complained about Tech’s gabbing and chattering the last time he’d spoken to them all. They would know Echo’s secrets, know what he had done, what he hadn’t when he should have, hammer home to him how much he deserved to wither and die under the suffocating heat of his own guilt.

His cousin had deserved so much better.

Tech deserved to live. To grow up, go on to become an astronaut or a fighter pilot or an EMT or a librarian or a software engineer or whatever else he had set his sights on (he always wanted to be so many things). To go to space camp. To make his own stop-motion movies. To apprentice as a leatherworker under their uncles. To skip more levels in school, graduate early with the highest marks possible. To go to university and get degree after degree. Show the world what he could do. To play piano concerts, to swim laps around everyone else in the pool, to bring his invention ideas to life, to become the world’s biggest multilinguist, to travel and see everything he wanted to see just from looking at those geographic magazines.

Tech deserved to come home so many months ago and go back to school. Go back to hanging out with his friend Phee. Show off the pictures he took of the canyons and mountains. He deserved to run around all summer with his brothers, riding on the back of their bikes, darting through the sprinklers, catching the ice cream truck with Wrecker every time it came by, watching the stars with Crosshair, climbing trees with Hunter, catching fireflies with Omega. He deserved to get all the coffee he wanted and collect the biggest or most interesting fallen leaves, plot out his latest Halloween costume, help them carve pumpkins and place them outside to glow in the early nights, solve the stupid corn mazes before any of them. He deserved to help plot out what everyone got for Life Day, meticulously poring over catalogues that came in the mail, helping decorate the tree so everything was spaced out properly. And he should’ve gotten to see the presents lying in wait for him beneath the green, twisting, decorated branches.

He deserved to be here. He deserved to grow up.

He deserved better than this.

To: Tech
From: Ba’vodu

To: Tech
From: Cody

To: Tech
From: Rex, Fives, & Echo

To: Tech
From: Omega <3

To: tech
From: hunter, WRECKER, Omega <3, & crosshair

To: Tech
From: Your bff Phee :)

To: Tech
From: Ba’vodu

To: Tech
From: Ba’vodu

To: Tiber
From: Mother

Chapter 9: New Year

Chapter Text

The air was thick with the hot, almost smoky smell of fried food as they strolled up and down the sidewalks. The whole city had kicked into high gear for the new year celebration, bright colorful red banners and decorations everywhere she looked, tinged with gold that gleamed in the light pouring out from the buildings and the streetlights overhead.

Tech had told her every fact that came to mind the last time they’d celebrated the new year together. Hunter held her hand as they walked, while Tech had fallen into step on her other side and chattered until he was breathless, pointing out everything interesting and explaining every tiny thing he knew about it.

She missed his presence at her side so badly.

99 insisted they all get out of the house for the new year festivities; get their minds off… everything. Omega eagerly jumped at the distraction. She was sick of being in the house due to the cold. Everything at home reminded her of her brother, and where he should be, but wasn’t.

She stopped walking and shook her head roughly, bangs falling in her face. Hunter stopped too, hands still linked, and looked at her inquisitively. She didn’t want to think about Tech anymore. Not right now. All she could think about was her brother and it was making her crazy. She woke up, Tech was on her mind. She went to bed, Tech was on her mind. She was either sick to her stomach or had a headache or was crying again or just felt trapped in her body, unable to move, her thoughts only able to focus on Tech.

She didn’t know it was possible to feel so much deep, horrible, physical pain just from missing someone.

She didn’t want to think about him. And she felt so guilty thinking that, so she refused to voice it out loud, but it was still there in her head. She just wanted something to be normal again, for even a little bit. She wanted to pretend this was a normal new years eve and they were just walking down the streets as a normal family.

So she did, to the best of her ability. She ate chicken skewers with her brothers from the street vendors, along with delicious syrupy dough balls and vegetable dumplings deeply-fried in sauce. They stood and watched the mini lion puppets, and she actually giggled when they danced and batted their eyelashes. She hadn’t laughed in what felt like forever.

Then they watched the parade, Cody hoisting her high up so she could see over the crowds. She saw the dragon swaying and floating past, the way its scales shone in the light, and wished briefly Tech was here to see it before she angrily shoved that thought away. If she thought about him, she’d just get sad again. And she didn’t want to be sad. Just for one night, she wanted to be happy. Please.

The fireworks popped and thundered loudly overhead as the clock struck midnight, and Omega covered her ears tightly and huddled against 99 as they peered upward. The colors were dazzling, the streaks in the sky fizzling away before being quickly replaced by another several sharp, colorful bangs, and then everything suddenly erupted at once in a grand finale, hundreds of explosions lighting up the sky over the city.

She had actually forgotten about Tech for a little while by the time they got in the car to go home. She still had her video call with her mother before bed, and 99 had promised her a few almond cookies for a snack on the condition she didn’t shovel them all in her mouth earlier that day. As tempting as that had been, she eventually agreed. It would ensure she’d have cookies twice that day instead of just once.

Her brothers had no interest in talking to Mama like she did, so they went to get ready for bed while she sat down at 99’s computer.

“Happy new year!” She greeted her mother cheerily.

“When does school resume session?” Mama asked immediately.

“Next week,” she replied, trying not to be upset her mother hadn’t returned the greeting. Mama never did holidays. It only made sense.

They talked more about school, then about her living conditions (she had no complaints, but Mama always pressed her for details and kept asking if she was happy there, for some reason). She was in the middle of excitedly telling her mother that 99 said they might get a dog when she was jolted suddenly, a scream distantly echoing over the speakers. It chilled her to the bone, almost like it was a scary movie but happening in real life.

“... Mama?” She asked nervously. “Is everything okay? I heard a noise–”

Her mother’s eyes slid to the side for a brief moment before returning to gaze into the camera, cutting her off. “You do not need to concern yourself with that.”

“But–”

“Omega,” Mama shut her down, voice firm this time.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said quietly, looking away and worrying her hands together in her lap.

“I will call you again next month. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Omega replied as the video call winked out.

“Omega? You okay?” 99 asked, coming up alongside her.

The frown stayed etched into her face as she looked up at her uncle. “That kid was screaming…” she mumbled.

99 laid a gentle hand on her back, rubbing it comfortingly. “I know. Sometimes… sometimes that’s the only way some kids can communicate. Maybe they can’t use words, so they just were trying to get somebody’s attention. I bet everything’s okay. Your mom is good at her job,” he reassured.

Omega nodded, slowly. That all made sense. Mama had always been good at her job, a fact which Omega was always proud of. Her mother had started out just studying child behavior with Omega’s brothers, then Omega herself, but she’d since moved on to more severe cases. Children who no one paid much attention to. Children who needed help. Mama could help them, Omega was certain. And Ninety-Nine was right: some of them probably couldn’t speak, so they had to shout to be heard.

Still. As she ate her bedtime snack, she couldn’t help but furrow her brows and poke at the little almond cookies absently.

That scream sounded familiar in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It didn’t make sense, but… it was almost like…

Like she’d heard it before.

Patient Record

ID Number: CX-2
DOB: 09/02/1999
Sex: M

Conditions: Autism Spectrum Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, severe myopia, past cranial trauma
Surgical History: Open reduction internal fixation of left femur, drain of cerebrospinal fluid, percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy

Chapter 10: Batcher

Chapter Text

He was officially out on parole, and technically a free man.

But instead of anyone celebrating that fact, his uncle announced at dinner they were going to the pound tomorrow to get a dog.

“We already have a dog,” Crosshair pointed out irritably, frowning into his plate. The celebratory pizza wasn’t hitting like it should.

He refused to think about the bespectacled reason why.

“Gonk doesn’t need much. I think we’ve got plenty room for another friend,” 99 replied, easygoing as ever. Nothing seemed to ruffle him. Even when Crosshair’d been hauled off months ago, his uncle had reassured him everything would be alright.

So here they were. He was woken up early, instead of getting to sleep in for the first time in over a year, dragged out of bed, shoved into his coat, and driven unwillingly to the pound. He glared at his lap the whole ride there, feeling like he might as well be handcuffed again, the way he was crammed between his stupid brothers in the backseat.

“Cross, quit being so melodramatic,” Cody chided, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

Bite me, he wanted to reply.

The pound was depressing, but he didn’t expect any different as he walked past the concrete and chainlink cages with his family, trying not to think too deeply about the dogs looking up at him.

Can’t save them all.

There were a lot of large dogs, some of them mutts, many of them obviously purebred just at a glance. Ones with rippling muscle and jaws that could snap his arm in half if they were so inclined. Ones that barked cacophonously through the wire doors separating them from the walkway.

“Why are there so many big dogs?” Omega asked, blonde head on a constant swivel, pulled in every direction by the animals tugging on her heartstrings.

She needs to grow a thicker skin.

“Lots of people get them because they look cool,” Cody replied. “But they’re tougher to deal with, so…” he trailed off for a moment. “They get dumped.”

Omega visibly wilted, looking around at the cages with magnified anguish. Crosshair could practically see the gears turning furiously in her head as her little child brain tried to come up with a way to rescue every one of the dogs here. “But don’t they miss their families?” She asked as she clung tighter to Cody’s hand, both of them stopping in front of yet another anooba.

Their rough, raked-up fur and long toothy snouts looked fascinating, sure, like wolves from a bygone era. But he’d seen plenty of videos of them to know they wreaked havoc. Anoobas were master escape artists and easily bored, which lent their endless energy toward destruction. Kind of like Wrecker. Not the type of dog Crosshair wanted to be responsible for.

Don’t want to be responsible for any dog.

“Yeah,” Cody replied, even his face looking a little sad. “I bet they do.”

Gonky was at least lazy. He hardly ever did anything except lay there on the floor like a lump, snoring away. That was fine with Crosshair—he never wanted a dog in the first place. It was Wrecker, and then Tech, who begged and pleaded for the dumb thing.

Tech.

They were here because of him, in some roundabout, backwards way. Crosshair didn’t know whether it was Cody or 99’s idea to get a dog to take their minds off Tech, but he thought it was absolutely stupid.

Omega had only jumped at the idea because she was a stupid kid who liked stupid things. She wasn’t old enough to understand the full gravity of the situation. She wasn’t smart enough to realize a dog didn’t fill a human-shaped hole, and a dog definitely wasn’t a good distraction from that gaping hole, either.

“Is that another lurca?” The kid asked, pointing out a dog in a cage at the far end.

“Kinda small,” Hunter said absently as he looked through the door.

Crosshair let his head drop back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, sighing audibly as he stepped backward to regroup with his family at the cage and peered down disinterestedly at the dog.

She was smaller than lurcas usually were, but she was still plenty big. Hulking, in fact. She stared up at them from the back of her cage, eyes watching uncertainly and floppy ears tucked against her head.

Go away, she seemed to say.

Gladly, Crosshair replied in his head, preparing to walk away. There were friendlier dogs here, surely. Ones that didn’t look like they’d bite the first chance they got.

“Can we look at this one?” Omega asked, and Crosshair grimaced.

She’s gonna get bitten. We’re gonna have to go to the ER before lunch.

He was actually aggravated he was wrong. She did not, in fact, get bitten. The lurca rolled over for Omega immediately in the little visiting room, wiggling all over the floor and letting the kid scritch her belly and behind her ears. They even played fetch with a ratty tennis ball.

And trust his idiot brothers to get attached.

And his idiot cousin.

And his– er, uh… softie uncle… yeah, that worked. Softie uncle.

But he was not going to get attached.

He glared at the dog as she bounced around them all on her leash, butt and stumpy tail wiggling back and forth for all they were worth.

You’re not my brother.

You can’t replace him.

You assholes can’t replace him with a dog.

He went right back to his room when they got home, ignoring the stupid dog completely and kicking off his shoes, not caring that they hit the wall with loud thunks. He buried himself in his bed again, covering his head with his pillow and growling his anger when all he could hear was the stupid dog barking and squeaking a toy over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and goddammit-

He needed some air. Home was too cramped (which sounded funny in a backwards way. He’d spent the past year in a cell that was half the size of his bedroom, or the rec room crowded with tons of other guys, or the cafeteria with low ceilings that just made you feel trapped. But sure, home was cramped).

He escaped out the window, scrambling onto the roof and trying not to slip off. That really would put a damper on his homecoming. He perched on the sandpaper-y shingles, cold seeping through his jeans and chilling his butt, and disdainfully observed the proceedings in the backyard below.

His brothers and cousins, hopping around the dry, dead grass like morons, calling the dog to them, throwing a ball for her to thunder after, playing tug with Gonky’s ratty rope toy. The dog in question was probably asleep on the couch inside. His lazy reputation wasn’t for nothing.

Even his uncle was cheerfully interacting with the dog, ruffling her floppy ears and chuckling when she hopped up, like she wanted to jump on him but knew better, somehow.

The second Crosshair felt his lips turn up at the corner, he wrinkled his nose and reset his frown in its rightful position.

He didn’t want a stupid dog. He hadn’t even wanted Gonky, he just got used to him being around. And he hated Omega’s stupid cat that never shut up. He didn’t ask for this. It was forced on him like everything else. Nobody ever asked him anything.

He felt snot dripping from his nose at the same time the tears fell from his burning eyes, and he buried his face in his drawn up knees, hoping no one had seen him up there on the roof. Crying like a whiny, petulant baby. Just because he didn’t get his way. Because he didn’t want a dog.

Because all he wanted was his brother back.

Batcher
Fett
If found,
please call #
on back

Chapter 11: Travel Security Agency

Chapter Text

No, she wasn’t freaked out about going on vacation because of what happened to her friend. What would make anyone say that?

She had not, in fact, needed to be coaxed like a wild animal into the car, and then onto the plane. Nor had she needed to hold Lyana’s hand in a death grip to make sure she never lost sight of her niece among all the people in the airport. She didn’t need continual reminders that they were safe as they drove to the hotel, as they went out to see the sights. She didn’t feel her stomach drop when they rode to the top of the skyscraper and she looked out the window, down to the tiny, bustling street below, thinking about how high of a drop her friend must have fallen in the canyon.

She didn’t feel anything negative or terrified at all. She was fine. Everything was all completely and totally fine. Completely!

She did, however, begin to relax as time went on, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. They swam in the hotel pool, and she taught Lyana how to properly do a handstand in the water. Her niece was so ecstatic to show Omega when they got home.

That hadn’t stung at all. Really! It hadn’t!

Okay. It did. What was that saying her sister always brought up?

Denial isn’t just a river in Zygerria?

She was… “handling” the death of her best friend. “Handling” was a bit generous, but… she was doing her best.

It just… it just sucked. That wasn’t eloquent or intelligent at all, but it was the truth. She wanted to tell Tech about the skyscraper, how many buttons were in the elevator (more than she’d ever seen in one place before). She wanted to show him the pictures she took at the zoo, the animals that weren’t at the closest zoo back home, like the okapis. She wanted to be able to invite him for sleepovers again (even though he always got nervous and went home after it got dark, so he never actually slept over, but they still had fun until then). And eat popcorn and watch movies, because all Lyana ever wanted to watch was dumb princess movies and nobody else liked nerdy sci-fi like she did. Nobody except Tech. And she wanted to be able to make stupid notes in class that just said “hi :)” or “what’s up” and show him how to do cootie catchers even though he always asked “so what’s the point of this?” but he went along with it anyway.

It sucked not having her best friend around anymore.

Honestly, she was afraid to ever make friends with anyone ever again. What if they just up and died one day too?

How do you recover from the same heartbreak twice?

Phee tried to focus on their vacation as much as she could. Tried a tiny bundt cake at a fancy bakery. Rode the subway and went up and down the impossibly tall escalators. Their family got good at walking quickly along the steps because the escalators moved too slowly. She liked seeing the monuments in Coruscant: the statues and monoliths paying homage to the Republic’s history, political leaders, military officers, even one depicting the Jedi. She got to see the outside of their famous Temple, admiring the red stripes down each side of the ziggurat. It wasn’t open to visitors, but it was still cool to look at. She wished she could see their library. It was rumored to be massive. Tech would’ve loved that too, she was sure.

Still, even though the distractions were nice, she was happy to be going home as they rolled their luggage through the airport and checked their suitcases. She had her satchel securely across her front, with her most important things tucked inside (camera, cell phone, her stuffed turtle she still slept with every night), but everything else she was happy to toss in her suitcase. Less junk to carry on her shoulder. As they got in line for security checks, she nonchalantly looked around at the people, interested to see how different they could all be at the same airport, some of them even going the same way she was.

“We registered for pre-check,” a terse, deep voice broke her out of her thoughts from just up ahead, right at the front by the scanners.

Phee glanced around as the security guards and TSA agents all turned their attention, subtly and not, to the man she could just see if she leaned around Shep’s big frame. Was eavesdropping something she’d been told was impolite? Sure, but she was bored of waiting in this line.

The man was big and broad-shouldered, close-cropped black hair and wearing what looked like hospital scrubs. He didn’t seem like he was a nurse or doctor type. Too… sharp-edged, from what she could tell immediately.

“Sir, I understand, but this is a security check for his safety. We just need to pull him aside–”

“No, you may not ,” the man barked back at the agent. “He cannot be separated from me.”

“Sir, by law we are required to question minors to ensure their safety–”

“He’s special needs, he can’t answer any questions you ask him.” The man had drawn himself up even taller and was glaring down at the agent now. “That’s why we registered ahead of time.”

“Sir, may I see your identification again?” Another agent tried to placate.

The man practically shoved his badge at her, waiting impatiently for them to let him through.

“And what was the reason for your original visit to this area?” The first agent asked, a security guard now lingering behind him.

“Therapeutic treatment. He lives at the residential facility where I’m employed. All our paperwork was arranged by my supervisor.”

“His ID is in order,” the female agent confirmed after a moment. “So’s the kid’s. Go ahead and walk ‘em through the scanner.”

Phee craned her neck further to watch, curious about this mystery kid everyone was so up in arms about, but couldn’t see anything past the big, bulky man before they went through and moved on.

Meh. Probably for the best it ended there. That was all the excitement she cared to have on this trip. She’d survived, and so had Lyana, and her sister, and Shep. All of them going home in one piece each. No disappearances, no freak accidents. They hadn’t even lost any of their luggage (there was still a chance, on the way home, but she figured it was probably pretty low at this point). As they went through the scanners and walked to their gate, Phee breathed out a sigh of relief. Shep had said her anxiety wasn’t irrational, but she was happy it was ultimately for nothing.

As they all sat down near their gate, Phee glanced around, figuring she could pass the wait by people-watching like she always did. An elderly couple shuffled past on the shiny tile. Then a bustling family of six all rushing past with their luggage bouncing haphazardly. Then the man in the scrubs from earlier. He almost looked like he was related to Ninety-Nine and Cody, funny enough. He was roughly pulling a young boy along by his hand, and as they got within earshot, she overheard him angrily scolding the boy.

“I told you not to talk to anyone!”

The boy didn’t reply, struggling to keep pace with the man’s much longer legs, and made brief, accidental eye contact with her as they passed. He frowned as he looked at her, causing a jolt to run through her that she didn’t understand at all, but in a flash they hurried further and further away, Phee turning her head swiftly to watch the back of the boy’s closely-shaven, light brown hair as he left.

Why had she felt… weird, looking at him? When he looked at her, and frowned like he knew something about her? They’d never seen each other before—he was a total stranger like everyone else in this airport.

Maybe she felt sorry for him, being in the company of that cranky-ass nurse or whatever he was. That made sense. She wouldn’t want to be in his position.

But still… it irked her as she boarded the plane and settled in her seat by the window. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about this random boy?

Who knew, really. Maybe she was just being too empathetic again. Fixating. She closed her eyes to the sight of clouds, relaxing back into the seat and dozing off to the thrumming of the plane engines.

Wait.

Phee snapped her eyes open and sat up abruptly, ignoring Shep’s asking if she was okay as she stared in shock at the seatback in front of her.

No.

No, no, that was… that was insane.

No.

But…

She knew that boy.

She knew his face.

She knew that frown.

Even without his glasses, without the cowlick in the back of his hair, she knew him.

It was Tech.

“You have to believe me, I swear, it was him–”

“Phee, I know you think you saw him, but honey, he’s gone.”

“No! No, it- it was him! I’m not crazy!”

“We’re not saying you are, sweetheart–”

“I’m not making anything up! I know- I know th-that was Tech …”

“Shh, it’s okay, come here, I know. I know.”

“It… it was him… I know it was…”

“Sometimes when we’re grieving, we see the people we miss wherever we go. That doesn’t mean you’re crazy, sweetheart. It just means you miss him. It’s okay to miss Tech. He was a good friend.”

“... I just… I just wish he could c-come back…”

“I know, honey. I know.”

Chapter 12: Community Service, Part 1

Chapter Text

Instead of getting to go with his brothers to the rec center like they used to after school, he was stuck on a rattling bus with a bunch of other guys who stunk of BO, headed to another city entirely to perform “community service”. His parole officer had been crystal clear that he was on thin ice and “this close” to going back to juvie, so he’d better “shape up and shut up” if he wanted to remain outside in free society.

The peaco*cking and blustering had gotten old by this point. All the adults in charge seemed to get off on ordering children around and threatening them with whatever they had at their disposal. It was pathetic, really. He’d love to see these sniveling correctional officers go toe to toe with his cousin Cody, or his uncle. They were military men. They knew what it really was to be tough.

But he nodded along and said “yes ma’am” “no ma’am” “yes sir” “no sir” with a completely neutral tone because it made them shut up and move on faster than if he mouthed off. No matter how tempting it was to tell them to blow it out their ass. He knew listening to them get irate was more of an assault on his ears than anything else, and he’d like to not go deaf before he was even a teenager. It was just easier to pretend to agree and obey. Not like they really cared, deep down. They just wanted him to lick their boots, kiss their ass, and jump through hoops like a trained monkey.

Whatever. Sooner he could finish his community service, sooner he could go back to doing important things. He was itching to pick up violin again, he just never had the time once he got home, because dinner was ready, and then he had to quickly do his homework, and then it was time for bed, and then suddenly he was being woken up for school again. On and on and on and on.

The bus eventually stopped at some place just outside the mountain town. It was a small group of low brick buildings, surrounded on all sides by solid brick and iron border walls. They were let in through the large iron gate, the bus parking off to the side on a grassy graveled area, and then all of them were told to march off the bus and line up along its side.

“You five,” the officer pointed out the first five boys lined up, “will help the janitorial staff. The next five will help in the cafeteria. And you last five,” the officer pointed to Crosshair’s grouping, “will read to and play games with the patients. March!”

So he’d avoided taking out trash, cleaning toilets, and making disgusting cafeteria food. What kind of hell could playing games and reading possibly be, if he was stuck with that?

Maybe he was overthinking this. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. He had been behaving when anyone was watching, so maybe that had earned him the easy task today.

Or maybe he was underthinking it, and this really would be as awful as his instincts said.

The five of them were lead into a small classroom, almost like at a school, except there weren’t many desks, and the walls were lined with really basic kindergartener crap, like rainbows and clip charts and a poster that detailed basic shapes. It mismatched the patients, who turned out to be young kids ranging from his sister’s age to older teenagers. A few sat at desks, and another few were in wheelchairs. Theirs were a lot shabbier than Echo’s. They didn’t look very comfortable to sit in.

The adults in the room were in nurse scrubs, but didn’t seem very… nurse-like. They looked much more like the guards he’d been dragged around and screamed at by in juvie. Big hulking dudes who looked like they chewed pencils as toothpicks. He tried not to make eye contact as he shuffled in with the other parole kids. They were instructed to either pick up a picture book to read to one of the children, or to grab an easy game like the hippos who had such an appetite they probably had a tapeworm.

Crosshair grabbed a couple picture books from the shelf on the wall. The books were beaten to hell and back, bent edges and creased covers and scribbles all over the front, but he figured the kids here wouldn’t care. They didn’t seem like they’d even taken notice of him and the other boys. He walked towards a kid in the back, sitting down at a desk and scooting it (loudly, which he cringed over) closer. “Hi,” he said as he flipped open the cover of the cat wearing a hat, glancing up at the kid finally.

And nearly jumping out of his skin.

He felt like his soul left his body for a long, long moment where he couldn’t even breathe, as he stared at the boy to his right.

He was seeing a ghost.

Or he was in hell.

Or he was finally completely insane.

Crosshair blinked, eyes widening to stare closer at the boy, who eyed him uneasily and leaned away at the same time he leaned forward.

“... Tech?” He breathed, ever so softly.

The boy stared at him blankly, no reaction at all on his face.

But that face.

Stars. He’d know that face anywhere, even in a sea of faces with pale skin and brown hair and brown eyes and nothing else.

He’d know the yellow undertone of Tech’s skin.

He’d know the reddish tint to Tech’s hair when it shone under the sun.

He’d know the amber irises of Tech’s eyes.

He’d know the long, straight nose the two of them shared, and the way it wrinkled when he laughed or when he was disgusted by something.

He’d know the long, curly eyelashes framing his big eyes that made him look like an anime character.

He’d know the lips that were smooth only because his brother habitually picked off the dry skin because the texture bothered him, and the defined dip between his nose and lip that his brother had excitedly told him was called a philtrum (and he’d replied that that was a stupid word for it, why hadn’t someone come up with a name that sounded less ridiculous).

He’d know those cheeks still chubby with baby fat that made him look younger than he really was, younger than the rest of them, and how it grated on his brother to be thought of as “the baby”. (“I’m the second oldest,” he’d always protest)

He would know this face anywhere, at any point in time, across stars and galaxies and entire universes. He would know the face he’d seen since they were babies, the face that grinned and frowned and laughed and sobbed and screamed when he broke his leg and happily keened when he got a nintendo for Life Day two years ago and–

It was Tech.

He knew it without needing any other confirmation in the world.

He knew his brother better than he knew himself.

His brother was alive.

He was alive.

Play ▶
Rec ⏺️

15:54
Siyu 04 2007

“I’m trying to be sneaky about this so they don’t see me recording, cause they just get so shy around cameras. There's uh, there’s Crosshair, and there’s Tech, out there in the driveway. It’s raining right now and they’re out there playing in it. Heh, look at them. Goofy kids.” –rustling– “Crosshair’s trying to catch raindrops with his tongue. Tech’s giggling. Got rain all on his glasses.” –chuckling– “Love those two. They’re so… stoic sometimes. I like seeing them be silly. Be kids.”

–static–

Chapter 13: Community Service, Part 2

Chapter Text

One thing about Crosshair was that he did not trust authority, as a rule.

99 and Cody had earned his trust through hard work over the years. But he trusted no one else. He did what Hunter said and screw everyone else.

He did not trust the big burly “nurses” standing guard at the doors in this care facility. He did not trust the cameras in the corners of the ceiling. He did not trust the parole officers skulking around keeping an eye on him and the others.

So he did what everyone always told him to do.

He shut the hell up.

He couldn’t afford to freak out, no matter how much his heart pounded against his ribs, no matter how much his head spun and his skin prickled with a cold sweat. If he flipped his lid, it’d be over, and he’d be hauled out of here never to return.

If he panicked, if he started yelling, demanding to know who brought his brother here and kept him all this time, he knew damn well he’d truly never see his brother again. If he lost it on everyone, he’d never be able to get word back to his uncle, and he’d never be able to fix the broken piece of his family. He’d never be able to get Tech out of here.

Instead, he quietly began to read from the stupid picture book he’d grabbed, acting as nonchalant as he possibly could (lucky him that he was always known as a little liar. It came in handy now). The boy– his brother leaned in for a moment to inspect the book, before he laid his head down on the desk in front of him, seeming bored. He didn’t blame him. Tech normally read at university level.

“How did you end up here?” He murmured to where only Tech could hear, pretending to show his brother the picture on the page.

That made his brother perk up, minutely, the only visible change existing in his eyes as he actually looked into Crosshair’s briefly. “Police,” he mumbled, much to Crosshair’s relief. At least his brother could tell they needed to be covert.

He slowly turned to the next page. “Police brought you?” He asked to confirm, voice barely a whisper.

“Mmhmm.”

“When was that?”

Tech shrugged, closing his eyes and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, beginning to mouth his knuckles, sucking and biting down on the skin.

That did not comfort Crosshair in the slightest. His brother had only ever done that when they were very little and he was really upset, until their mother had disciplined it out of him.

“Was it after vacation?” He pressed after he’d finished another stanza of the book, showing Tech the illustrations again.

“What’s that?” Tech mumbled as he opened his eyes, taking his hand away from his mouth, now shiny with his spit.

This wasn’t working. Something was seriously wrong with his brother. Maybe they’d drugged him. That would make sense, given what he could tell from the other kids who lived here. They all seemed like they moved in slow motion, even in the way they blinked.

It almost made him snort. They were literally “slow”.

Except it wasn’t funny. It was disturbing, if anything. What were they doing to these kids?

And how had his brother ended up here?

“What about the canyon?” Crosshair whispered, hoping that might ring a clearer bell. “The river?” The river where you fell, he almost said. The river where we thought you drowned.

Tech suddenly sat straight up, blood drained out of his face, and began to rock back and forth, fingers grasping desperately at his shirt. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no–”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Crosshair started to placate, reaching out a hand, touching his brother’s arm–

And yanking his entire arm back when he was suddenly jolted by a shock, the movement involuntary. His teeth clenched briefly from the electricity, and his fingertips tingled like they’d fallen asleep. He blinked, dazedly, and looked to his brother, who had gone completely rigid, creepily so, staring at his lap and no longer rocking, or moving at all.

“Don’t touch the kid,” one of the nurses advised, and suddenly Crosshair could see the clear plastic box in the man’s hand. It looked like…

A remote.

“We have to shock ‘em sometimes to make ‘em quit spazzing out. You’ll get shocked too if you touch ‘em.”

He had to work all the muscles in his throat to fight back the urge to throw up then and there, a cold feeling washing down his throat and making the nausea worse.

They were shocking his brother.

They had trapped him here without anyone knowing, and they’d been shocking him, like… like…

Like a lab rat.

He picked up the book again with trembling hands, knowing it wasn’t from the shock, knowing it was because he couldn’t– couldn’t calm himself down, couldn’t breathe properly, all he could think about was Tech, completely shut down next to him, because he’d panicked when he’d asked about–

The river. The canyon.

He’d panicked because he’d remembered.

Crosshair may not be an expert in many things, but he knew what it looked like when someone remembered something they never wanted to. Something they tried hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” He asked, struggling to keep his voice soft.

“Bad,” Tech murmured.

“Does your arm feel bad? Maybe I could…” He didn’t know what he could do, but maybe there was something. Maybe he could ask one of the cafeteria guys to smuggle him some ice and then give it to Tech…

“No. I’m bad,” Tech mumbled.

Don’t leap across the desk. Don’t grab a chair. Don’t beat the nurse over the head with it. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.

“No you’re not. They’re lying to you.” You’re the good one. I’m the bad one. Remember?

… Do you remember?

Tech looked up at him through his eyelashes, brow furrowing in confusion. “Lying?”

Crosshair turned to the last page of the book. “They’re lying. All of them.” He met his brother’s gaze head on, steeling his jaw. “They’re assholes.”

His brother tilted his head, almost comically. “... Ass… holes?”

Too late, he realized the nurse had overheard, Tech’s voice rising to a normal volume, and then his brother jerked again, folding in on himself and letting out a low moan.

Cool was instantly lost. Resolve not to freak out was thrown out the window.

“Stop f*cking shocking him!” Crosshair heard himself shouting, standing up so abruptly his chair flew from behind him and clattered to the tile floor. “Leave him alone!”

“Fett, sit the f*ck down!”

“f*ck you!” He snarled at the parole officer, then turned on the nurse who had advanced toward him. “Leave my brother the f*ck alone, you f*cking asshole!”

“Brother?” Tech’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him, so far away, faint and small.

His pulse was thundering in his ears as he was summarily hauled out, kicking and flailing to try to get back to his brother, to no avail. Instead of going outside, shoved back on the bus, he was instead dragged further into the building, down a twisting maze of hallways that all looked sickeningly bright (what tasteless moron had picked these paint colors?), until he was brought into some fancy office and shoved into a chair.

“Is one of the volunteers having trouble, Officer?”

Crosshair felt his blood run cold suddenly, all the fight drained out of him in an instant as his head snapped up to look at the man across from him, sitting behind the desk with his hands folded on the red-tinted mahogany. He didn’t know what it was. Maybe the man’s icy blue eyes that stared straight through him, cutting into his soul. Maybe it was the singular glove he wore (who wears just one?). Maybe it was the smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward to gaze at Crosshair.

Predator, was the first word that came to mind.

“He’s caused a disruption in your classroom.” The parole officer looked down at him, furor evident in his face. “You can explain to the doctor why you’re causing a racket around the special needs kids.”

“I…” His mouth felt so dry, heart still pounding in his chest, though he wasn’t sure anymore that it was residue from his rage. Instead he felt only fear, unable to look away from those blue eyes.

He’d never felt this scared before. Not… not since he was really little. He hadn’t even been this afraid when he walked into prison the first time, or in front of the judge that sentenced him to be locked away for months on end.

“I believe we can resolve this privately,” the doctor said, still smiling. It would almost be pleasant, if his eyes didn’t betray the danger lurking underneath.

The parole officer harrumphed his displeasure and immediately left, shutting the door behind him. The glass rattled a bit as he went.

“What is your name?” The doctor asked.

“... C… Crosshair… Fett.”

“Mm. Crosshair.”

He almost recoiled away at the sound of his name on the man’s tongue. It sounded vile.

“I am Dr. Hemlock,” he introduced, voice too smooth. “You seem to have a problem with our resident correction methods.”

Tech.

He was here for Tech.

“You… you can’t… shock people. You can’t shock kids. I don’t even think that’s legal,” he stammered.

Hemlock rested his chin on his folded hands, smiling at him. “What we do here is completely within the parameters of the law, and under medical advice. These… residents, have many difficulties. In fact, you might find you are very similar to them.”

Hemlock pushed himself up from his desk. “See, like you, they have committed violent acts. But they are special needs—they don’t understand what they’ve done wrong with normal explanations. Sending them to a correctional facility, like you were, would not have accomplished anything. Instead, they need proper teaching, in a way their simplistic minds can understand. We provide that here, so that these residents can go on to become productive members of society. Normal children who commit crimes are sent to juvenile detention, like you. Special needs children are sent to facilities like mine.”

“My brother has done nothing,” Crosshair found himself hissing, eyes narrowed as he glared up at the man. Cutting right through all the self-congratulating monologue.

Something dark crossed Hemlock’s face, and the smile dropped off his face, everything becoming… disturbingly neutral. “Your… brother?”

“Tech.” Crosshair pointed angrily to the door behind him. “He’s my brother, he’s older than me by two days. He’s not violent—he wouldn’t hurt anybody. Why are you keeping him here?”

“The boy you were reading to…” Hemlock murmured to himself, and Crosshair imagined himself standing on ice with something swimming in the dark water below. “CX-2 has displayed violent behaviors repeatedly,” Hemlock began to say, voice still that light smoothness.

“Bullsh*t,” Crosshair cut him off as he suddenly stood up, drawing himself to his full height. “You’re such a liar. Did you somehow miss all the f*cking missing posters and the alerts we put out over the whole territory? Did you think you could just–”

A firm hand grasped his shoulder. The gloved one. Squeezing painfully on the tendons, making him shut his jaw and grit his teeth tightly.

Hemlock bent down, until his lips were level with Crosshair’s ear. His breath smelled like cologne, and… rot. “You and I both know you’re not a credible source,” he said softly, exhalation tickling his ear and making him shiver against his will. The hand still held him in a vice grip. “And I can make things much, much worse for your… brother, if you speak a word of this to anyone. I have eyes all over the justice system in the territory. I will find out, and your family will regret you saying anything.”

Hemlock straightened, and smiled at him again, eyes glittering with loathing, and satisfaction. Crosshair could feel angry, terrified tears welling in his own eyes. “Besides. I think it would be best if your family continues to believe your brother is resting peacefully. Don’t you think, based on your reaction, they would be upset about his residency here?”

He nodded, jerkily, because he knew he had to give a response.

He was petrified of what would happen if he didn’t.

Hemlock guided him out of his office with a hand on his back. “I’m pleased we could come to an understanding. Now, would you like to go back to your bus, or return to reading to the residents?”

“Reading,” Crosshair mumbled, throat closed to a pinhole, face burning beneath his skin.

“Wonderful. Thank you, Crosshair,” the man purred.

“Alright, ah... Echo! Your turn to read the next passage.”

“... Echo?”

“Psst. Echo. Dude, it’s your turn to read.”

“... Sorry, where are we?”

“Page 209. Pay attention, please.”

–throat clearing– “Um… ‘No!’ exclaimed O’Brien. His voice had changed extraordinarily, and his face had suddenly become both stern and animated. ‘No! Not merely to extract your confession, nor to punish you. Shall I tell you why we have brought you here? To cure you! To make you sane! Will you understand, Winston, that no one whom we bring to this place ever leaves our hands uncured? We are not interested in those stupid crimes that you have committed. The Party is not interested in the overt act: the thought is all we care about. We do not merely destroy our enemies; we change them. Do you understand what I mean by that?’”

Chapter 14: Without

Chapter Text

It had been one year since the last time Wrecker saw his brother. One year since Tech died.

One year without being able to look over next to him on the couch to find his brother engrossed in a game on his nintendo. Or glancing across the table as his brother devoured a grilled cheese.

A year without hearing his brother ramble about prehistoric creatures or anthropology. That Wrecker couldn’t stand over his shoulder pestering him about his latest wiring project, smelling the metallic soldering smoke as it wafted upward.

A year unable to compete with him at their racing games, mashing buttons desperately even as he careened wildly off-track, howling his displeasure when his brother zipped past with ease (Tech always won, but Wrecker kept challenging him anyway, hoping the next time would be the one he’d win). A year of being unable to bounce on the trampoline with him until they were breathless and sweaty, lying back on the woven plastic and having conversations about everything and nothing.

A year with one person always absent from the walk to the bus stop. One person less to fight over the remote for the tv.

A year without his brother in the bunk across from him in their bedroom. He’d wake up at night, thinking Tech was there, but the bed was empty. Like it always was.

Hunter stole their brother’s soft blanket, leaving only the fitted sheet and pillow behind.

“It smells like him,” he whispered, wrapping himself in it as he tried to stop the tears welling up again.

Wrecker had to look away because he was a sympathy crier.

An entire year spent walking past the suitcase they never unpacked. They looked through it sometimes, laying it on the carpet and unzipping the top, running their hands over the contents. Occasionally they even took the items out. But they always put them back, in exactly the spots they’d been in when their owner packed them the first time.

Toothbrush. Toothpaste. A fat zipper pouch that qualified as a miniature pharmacy with any kind of medicine or first aid supplies someone might ever need. T-shirts, pajamas, rolled up tightly. A sweatshirt and overalls, also rolled up as much as possible. Nintendo. Charger. Underwear. Socks. He’d forgotten to pack soap. And no less than three books, two of which were about Mount Veermok and Eriadu, checked out from the library.

They should have taken the books back. The fines probably made up a hefty sum after so long. But they couldn’t bear the thought of taking away the books their brother had read aloud facts from on the car trip, animatedly talking about the formation of the mountain ranges they wove through.

A year without his brother being there to whip out a tape measure from his pocket when it was needed most. Without him riding on the back of one of their bikes, arms wrapped around their middle, hands clasped in front and commenting absently on things he saw as they blurred past.

A year without being able to lift his head in the evenings and ask what a random word meant, his brother rattling off the definition without even needing to look it up, because he just knew. Without his brother there to make wisecracks in his soft-spoken voice that took him by surprise, making him laugh raucously, because his brother always took him off-guard with his humor.

One year without his brother swimming swiftly past them all in a race down the length of the community center pool. Without his brother fighting with him over who got the last scoop of ice cream from the freezer. Without his brother competing to see how far they could spit, without the wind there to carry it further. Without his brother bringing him random wildflowers he found because he knew they were his favorite.

One year without Tech.

“Hey… Tech. I, uh… I brought you some flowers. I know you liked these ones. They’re forget-me-nots. Heh. Kinda…” –sniffles– “Kinda works, doesn’t it? You don’t have to worry. I won’t forget you, buddy. Not ever.”

–sniffles–

“Um… I don’t… really know what I’m s’posed to say. It’s not like we ever really visited graves before. But… but 99 said it would help. To bring you flowers, and, oh! And this uh, this hotwheels I saw at the grocery store the other day. It has really cool flames on the side. I thought you’d like it. So. So yeah, I brought you this stuff, cause I miss you…” –whimper– “A lot. A… a lot. So much.” –sniffles– “I just… wish you were still here. Every– every day, I wish it. I miss you, buddy. I miss you so… so bad.”

–sobs–

“I… I just hope you’re okay, wherever you are. I know… 99 said we go up in the stars with our ancestors ‘n’ stuff when we die. I know you liked the stars a lot. You wanted to… to go up there and be an astronaut and do cool stuff like that. I dunno if you’re really up there, but I hope you’re happy. Cause… cause I love you. And I miss you, Techie.”

Chapter 15: The Visit

Chapter Text

Omega was extremely excited to go visit her mother. It had been… well, since… since they buried Tech, was the last time she saw Mama in person. But that hadn’t really counted. Mama hadn’t stayed long for that. But she rarely got to see her mother in real life anymore, just over video calls or the phone, so she was brimming with anticipation about going to stay with Mama for several days.

It was really lucky Mama had moved from Kamino to this mountain city a couple years ago. That way she was much closer and Omega could visit a lot easier than if she had to fly on a plane somewhere to visit.

The residential facility where Mama worked was tucked away on the outskirts of town, off the main highway. Surrounded by lots of trees, it looked kind of cozy. The walls helped keep the animals out, she bet. Her cousins had been very firm in telling her not to go hiking in the woods by herself because of all the big toothy wild animals that lived there, so she figured it must be the same here. Wouldn’t want a panther or a bear to wander around where there were disabled kids who probably didn’t know any better.

Mama’s office was nice as always, no matter where she lived. Clean and crisp and sterile. Omega liked it because there wasn’t a bunch of clutter everywhere. “Everything has a place,” Mama always said. And everything got put away in its place. No mess.

There wasn’t really a bedroom for Omega to stay in, just extra rooms for residents that weren’t in use, so she picked the one with walls that were the least eye-searing. They were all really bright, to be honest. It was a bit much. But maybe the kids here liked it that way.

“You won’t lock me in here, right?” She found herself asking, surprised at her own uncertainty. She wasn’t sure where that question came from, but… well, the locks on the doors were high up past where she could reach, and looked heavy-duty, like the ones at her uncle’s storage unit.

Mama also seemed surprised, her eyebrows lifting ever so slightly, eyes widening minutely, before she recovered and returned to her usual calm, placid expression. “You have free movement here, Omega,” she reassured liltingly. “You know how to follow rules.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a nod. She did know how to follow rules. At home, she could do a lot and act crazy with her brothers, but with Mama, she knew how to behave. She hated to disappoint her mother, so it was easy to do what she was told.

Still. She found herself digging out her two trusty lockpicks (“Always carry a spare,” Tech used to advise) and slipping them into her pocket. She could theoretically get locked in somewhere accidentally and need to get herself out.

It didn’t mean she didn’t trust her mother. It was just being wise and careful.

That’s all.

Mama gave her a badge to scan her way in and out of doors, and to let the staff know who she was so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a resident. She liked getting to wear the badge on the lanyard around her neck. It made her feel important. Like a big, well-known professional at a conference or something. Or a smart, experienced doctor at a hospital.

She found herself wandering the halls alone, ambling along the maze of the facility and seeing what and where everything was. She passed residents being escorted by nurses sometimes, smiling at them even when they didn’t smile back (maybe they were just tired), but mostly the halls were pretty empty. Everyone seemed to mostly be in different rooms. There were classrooms like at school, the resident rooms like what she was staying in, a couple bathrooms, an infirmary, a cafeteria, and–

Aha! A playroom! As soon as she stood on her tiptoes to peer through the glass, spying the hallmark features of a big playroom, she eagerly scanned herself inside and looked around gleefully. The floor was partially covered with interconnecting foam letter mats, and there were low shelves lined with games and toys. In one corner there was a big plastic playhouse like was on the playground at school, and nearby was a small slide for little kids.

She seized on the cardboard bricks to build the fort of her dreams. She never got to do this at after-school care—everybody else always wanted to take the bricks too. She didn’t have a problem sharing, per se, but it was nice to just once have all the bricks to herself.

“How did you get in here– Oh. Hello, Omega.”

The sudden voice startled her enough to make her kick her fort down on top of herself, and she grimaced as she popped her head up out of the toppled cardboard brick pile, looking around confusedly until she saw a man standing by the door. “Um. Hello,” she said hesitantly. She wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. “How… did you know my name?”

“I am Dr. Hemlock,” he said with a smile. It was a weird smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re here visiting your mother this week.”

Right. That’s how he knew. Dr. Hemlock… “You’re in charge of this facility, right?” She asked as she stood up and picked her way out of the mess. She’d clean it up in a minute. Mama had instilled that in her.

“I am. It is my pride and joy.” He held a hand out to her. “Would you like me to show you around?”

“I should clean this up first–”

“That can be done later. Come.”

“O- kay…” she said hesitantly. Mama worked with him. Mama knew him. He was the doctor in charge here. And it wasn’t like she was unsafe, right? Plus, she’d already shown herself around, so it wouldn’t hurt if he gave her a tour. Not like she could get lost.

“Your mother has told me a lot about you.”

“How come?” She asked, curiously looking up at the man as they walked.

“Well,” he chuckled. “I should know about my stepdaughter, shouldn’t I?”

She stopped for a moment, shoes making a shrill squeak on the mopped tile as she stared at him. “You’re… married to my mother?”

He smiled at her. “Yes. I am pleased to finally meet you after all this time.”

“Oh. Um.” Omega slowly walked forward again. “Nice to meet you too.”

They tooled around the facility for a while, Hemlock showing her all the different rooms. She honestly got bored pretty quickly, but feigned interest. He seemed like he really enjoyed hearing himself talk. Maybe it worked out, since Mama didn’t talk unless she had something important to say. But it was annoying to listen to him, all the same.

“Dr. Hemlock?” She inquired after a while, as they walked down yet another hallway.

“Hm.”

“Can I play with the other kids?” She asked hopefully. They seemed like they could use some cheering up, and she was nothing if not great at getting someone to smile even when they felt bad. She prided herself particularly on her ability to pull a smile out of Crosshair when he was in one of his moods. “Nothing wild or crazy,” she assured quickly. “I know Mama’s rules. But I saw some puzzles and board games in the playroom, so that would be quiet, and–”

“NO,” he suddenly snapped, whirling on her and staring at her with an angry, hardened gaze. She shrank beneath it. He seemed to collect himself quickly on the outside, smoothing back his hair again, but she could still see his blazing eyes. The calm didn’t reach those. “No, our residents need to earn playtime. They have violent tendencies and must be kept under close supervision. I wouldn’t want you to be put in any danger,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She fought the urge to duck under and away from the hand. It didn’t feel like Echo or Rex when they put a hand on her shoulder. When they did it, it was them giving her advice, or telling her things were okay, even if they seemed a little chaotic. When Dr. Hemlock did it, it felt… wrong. She could smell his cologne, and it burned her sinuses.

“Okay,” she said softly, not wanting to go back to her normal volume, feeling like it might provoke him if she did. “I understand.”

He smiled again, the muscles around his mouth tight. “Of course. Your mother said you were a smart girl.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one. Say you’re like, trapped in a hospital with a serial killer, but nobody knows who it is, and if you tell anyone, you doom them to being killed with you. How do you get out of the building without alerting him?”

“... What the hell kind of f*cked up scenario is this, man?”

“Answer the question, Echo!”

“Damn, fine, okay, um… so I’d probably try to get down to the cafeteria and start a fire in the kitchen, one that people can’t put out easily. Like a grease fire, or maybe like, get the oven to freak out.”

“So you’re just gonna leave everybody to die in the fire?”

“No! If you’d let me finish, dumbass– So then I’d probably pull as many fire alarms as I could, that way everybody could evacuate and I could slip out in the chaos. Am I allowed to pull my gun on the serial killer in this?”

“No, escape only.”

“Well that’s not satisfying at all.”

–giggles–

“Psh, get a load’a this guy, Mega. Gives me the worst scenario and then says I’m not allowed to solve the actual problem.”

–laughs louder– “You guys are silly!”

“That’s my full name. Fives Silly Fett.”

“Has a terrible ring to it.”

“Shut up, Echo.”

–giggling–

Chapter 16: Acetaminophen

Chapter Text

Three days into her stay with her mother, Omega had a headache that wouldn’t go away, so she walked down to the facility’s infirmary to see if a nurse had something for it. It was times like this she missed when Tech would randomly carrying a baggie of acetaminophen in his pocket, fishing it out and then sourcing the nearest vending machine. She remembered the first time he showed her his amazing trick of gaining access to the change dispenser and pilfering coins to feed back into the machine, gaining them any soda they wanted.

He used to gulp soda, full-body recoil from the fizzing in his throat and rapidly wring his free hand, then blink away the involuntary tears and immediately go back to gulping from his can. She always giggled at it, and he’d give her a look like he knew it was silly and he thought it was funny too.

There was only one other kid in the infirmary, propped up on a cot near the wall, with a feeding tube setup she recognized from when Echo did it at home. She did a double take when she saw the boy’s face, narrowing her eyes as she examined him more closely.

That was crazy.

… Unless…?

No, no, crazy.

Well…

“Do you need something?” The nurse asked in a snippy tone, interrupting her internal debate.

“Um.” Omega looked away from the boy, shaking her head to clear it and being reminded quickly why she came here when the pain sharpened with the movement. She hissed and rubbed her temple. “I have a headache.”

The nurse visibly rolled her eyes and got up from her desk, going to a cabinet and getting out a fat bottle of pain reliever, handing her two tablets and a paper cup of water. “Sit there and be quiet,” she ordered Omega, pointing to the cot directly next to the boy’s, then sitting back at her desk and turning up the radio to help drown out any noise they might make.

Yeesh. Everyone here was so grumpy all the time. Even the people at the base where her uncle worked were happier than this, and they were military.

She took the opportunity to examine the boy again. He had briefly looked at her, sitting completely still with his arms at his sides, which she realized belatedly was because they were tied down on either side of the cot, the straps tight around his wrists, and a belt across his lap. He probably couldn’t move much, even if he wanted to.

She was sure she was seeing things. This boy just… just happened to look like the brother she’d just been thinking of a few minutes ago. Except there were plenty of differences: her brother, in her memories, was always happy, his eyes sparkling behind his thick glasses, lips twitching with the barest hint of a smile because he was easygoing, just not very obvious about it. But that was okay, she’d learned over time. He might not express a lot like their other brothers, but if she paid attention, she could still see what he was feeling. He’d show her how to get free soda from the vending machine, and how to catch fireflies in the summer, and how to go off the high diving board at the pool without landing wrong in the water and it feeling like it exploded across her skin (the trick was to keep her legs together, pointed down, no flailing in the air during the drop. Control. “It’s all about control,” he told her). He was smiling, like there was a soft glow around him. He was happy.

This boy didn’t look happy in the least. No one here did, not even Dr. Hemlock, who said this was his “life’s work”. The boy stared into space in the cinderblock wall opposite his cot, chewing his lip absently and tapping his index finger repetitively on the thin mattress.

Still. Even if it wasn’t her brother. Even if it just looked like him. Even if he looked unhappy… maybe she could talk to him. She wasn’t allowed to play with the residents, but talking wasn’t playing. So she wasn’t actually breaking any rules.

“How long does that take?” She asked quietly to try to break the ice, pointing at the feeding bag hung on the pole over his bed. “My cousin’s doesn’t take a very long time, but that might be because he eats some food regularly, like chewing it. Do you do that, or just do the tube?”

His eyes slid in her direction, but he still kept his face turned away from her. Even so, his forehead tensed, brows furrowing like he was confused or bothered by the question. “... It takes a long time,” he mumbled after a long moment.

A chill ran down her spine.

His voice sounded exactly like her brother’s. Down to every syllable, the cadence matching perfectly. She’d know it anywhere, because it was unlike any of their family’s.

“Uh…” She felt herself begin to stammer, glancing quickly at the nurse across the room, still fixated on her magazine and the radio, then back to the boy she was… beginning to really think might be who she thought.

Even though that was impossible.

He was… he was dead.

They buried him. The police found… they found what… was left.

… Hadn’t they?

“Um… what’s your name?” She asked.

There. That was easy enough. It’d be concrete proof. Then she could calm down and stop thinking crazy things. It wasn’t her brother. It was just some boy who happened to be a lot like him, except they were very different.

“Name?”

“Yeah, your name. My name’s Omega.”

“I don’t have a name,” he replied, glancing at her briefly and flicking his eyes away again.

… What?

But. “Everybody has a name,” she whispered, utterly baffled.

Then, a memory flashed to the forefront of her mind. Looking at the files Mama had kept on her older brothers. 01. 02. 03. 04. Only legal documents had their… their names that Mama chose. All her personal files just called them by the numbers.

She found herself speaking, asking, almost begging to know, without thinking first whether it would make sense or whether it was even a good idea. “Are you 2?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed.

“Does Dr. Se call you 2?” She asked shakily, trying to keep her voice low even though her throat was squeezing from anxiety.

“Yes.”

Omega looked at the wall across from the two of them. Looked at the boy’s face. Watched him squint at the wall, the posters pinned to it, the way he’d been doing the whole time he was sitting here. “Can you read that?” She asked.

“No. Can’t see it,” he muttered, sounding irritated about that fact.

She reached out and grasped his hand before she could restrain herself, stopping his tapping finger. Squeezing his hand, tightly, needing to touch him. He had the same warmth she remembered, so long ago. He’d never been much of a hand-holder, but he did when they crossed the street. He’d swivel his head like a hawk, peering down the road on either side, then once he was positive it was clear he’d pull her along by the hand, walking faster than she thought it was possible to without just running, until they were safely on the sidewalk opposite. She always felt safe crossing the street with her big brother. His hand was warm and soft and felt so strong even though he wasn’t that much older than she was.

This was his hand, the one that held her tightly to make sure she wasn’t hit by a car.

Those were his eyes, the ones that couldn’t see more than a couple feet in front of him, not without his glasses.

That was his face, the frowning lips and scrunched nose that spoke of his displeasure at being touched without warning.

“I missed you,” she whispered. “So much.” It wasn’t all of what she wanted to say. There were so many things, so much to tell him, but she couldn’t. Not right now. It wasn’t safe.

Because if it was safe then he wouldn’t be here.

If it was safe then no one would have hid him away where their family couldn’t find him.

“Why?” He asked, brows falling into furrows again as he finally met her eyes and held her gaze.

The same eyes she remembered.

Except they weren’t happy like they used to be.

They were sad. And tired.

“Because you’re my brother. I’d always miss you.”

“... Brother?”

“Don’t… don’t you remember?” She asked uncertainly.

“No.”

She felt her breath freeze in her lungs before everything was taken over by nauseating hot flashes.

What had they done to him here?

What did Dr. Hemlock do to him?

… What did Mama do to him?

Facility Alert Log

Kitchen Door 02
Ext Scan
01:16:22

Kitchen Door 02
Int Scan
01:19:12

Smoke Alarm 02
Kitchen
01:20:06

Cafeteria Door 03
Ext Scan
01:20:10

Fire Alarm
Cafeteria 01
01:20:58

Cafeteria Door 01
Int Scan
01:21:09

Fire Alarm
Hall 07
01:23:13

Fire Alarm
Hall 04
01:24:47

Evac Protocol Activated
If: trigger fire alarm
Then: shut down sec alarm

Security Offline
Ext Doors Unlocked

Chapter 17: Fear

Chapter Text

“You are my prize. You will do extraordinary things one day.”

Flinch away when he touches your jaw.

Slap.

Skin stings.

Bone throbs underneath.

He shakes you.

Fingers bruise your arm.

“If only we could more quickly get rid of this… disobedience.”

They give you pills.

Same as every day.

Morning.

And night.

You pretend to swallow.

Hold them under your tongue.

You don’t know why you do it tonight.

They taste bitter.

You scrunch up.

Go back to your room.

The walls are a bright green.

It makes your teeth hurt.

And eyes.

And you feel sick to your stomach.

He says you should be used to it by now.

You can’t get used to it.

It hurts just as much as it did the first time.

Lights out for the night.

Spit pills in your hand.

Drop them down the back of your diaper.

Some part of you thinks you’re too old for that.

You could use a bathroom instead.

If you weren’t so tired all the time.

So foggy.

Pills make you tired.

Foggy.

Lay down on the bed.

Close your eyes.

Wish for your blanket that got taken away.

Because you were disobedient.

You would like to earn back the blanket.

You went on a trip recently.

You saw what was Outside.

You want to go Outside again.

More than anything in the world.

Even though the world used to seem so small.

And sad.

And scary.

And it made you sad.

And scared.

And… and angry.

But there is a big world outside this small world.

And you want to go Outside again.

Eyes open.

You stare at the ceiling.

You decide.

You are going to run away.

It does not matter if you don’t know anything.

If you don’t know really what’s Outside.

If you don’t have anywhere to go, technically.

It does not matter, because you will go where Outside is.

If you can escape Him.

And Her.

And the nurses.

And the police that brought you here in the first place.

Then you can escape.

And live Outside.

And be free.

You will go Outside.

At the next chance you have, you will run.

Escape.

Disappear.

The girl that is here knows you.

You don’t know her.

But you believe her, for some reason.

You don’t understand why, but you still believe anyway.

She lives Outside.

Maybe you can find the girl Outside.

Maybe you can ask her…

You don’t know what to ask.

But you want to ask questions.

You’re not allowed to ask questions.

But you want to know things.

Outside has things.

Maybe you can know things that are Outside.

But you have to go.

You can’t stay here.

You think you might die here someday.

Sometimes other kids leave.

They don’t come back.

You can still hear their screaming ringing in your ears.

You don’t think they went Outside.

You don’t want to die.

You want to go Outside.

You want to know things.

… Learn things.

There are things Outside.

You have to go.

… But you’re scared.

You shut your eyes again.

Tears slip down each side of your face.

You’re too scared.

You can’t leave.

You’re trapped.

You’re in a cage with too-bright walls and clip charts and color levels and pills and buzzing and alarms and bruises and slaps and restraints and

And you can’t take it anymore.

You roll over to face the wall.

Smother your sobs in your mattress.

Bite your fingers.

Tears and spit mix together and make everything wet.

You can barely breathe.

You wish this would be over somehow.

You wish you wouldn’t have to do anything at all.

That this would just stop.

And you could go Outside without being afraid of what They’ll do to you if you do.

You wish someone would say you could go free.

You wish they’d say you don’t have to be obedient anymore.

You don’t have to sit still.

Be quiet.

Behave.

You wish they’d say you could go Outside.

And you could go, and they’d take the band off your arm, and you could ask questions and learn new things and go somewhere the walls aren’t bright green and the kids in the other rooms on either side don’t howl all night and keep you awake and you don’t have to take anymore pills and you could… could…

Look up at the sky without being rushed along.

Watch cars go past on the road without being hurried back inside.

Listen to the birds that make noise in the trees on the edge of the walls that mark the Inside versus the Outside.

Talk to the girl.

Talk to anyone you want.

And not talk to anyone if you don’t want.

You sniffle.

Wipe your face.

Look at the green wall that’s still too bright even with the lights off.

Let your eyes flutter closed.

Let yourself begin to fall asleep.

You decide as you drift off.

You’re scared.

But you’re going to go anyway.

You’re going to go Outside.

You’re going to run away.

You’re going to be free.

“Three blind mice
Three blind mice

See how they run
See how they run

They all ran after the farmer’s wife
She cut off their tails with a carving knife

Did you ever see such a sight in your life
As three blind mice”