The Clone Wars One Shots

Hearing Impaired Part 7

*Emerges from a puff of smoke like Gargamel*

What up

*Throws update*

*Vanishes again for months at a time because writer's block*

Twenty seven days before the comm, the Bad Batch scoured the wreckage of the crashed Republic Cruiser for any sign of you. They found the bodies of scrappers and regs, all of which they buried outside, but there was no sign that you had ever even entered the Cruiser.

Twenty two days before the comm, Clone Force Ninety Nine abandoned their search of the Crusier and went in search of the scrappers that inhabited Bracca.

Twenty one days before the comm, they struck. Wrecker and Tech stunned the guards while Echo, Omega and Hunter rushed to the center of the campsite, searching for their missing teammate. Like on the ship, they couldn't find a single trace.

Eighteen days before the comm, in a last ditch effort to deny what he knew to be true, Echo returned to the Cruiser alone. He walked every hall, steel-on-steel footsteps echoing like the march of an army. A one man army, but the right man for the job, as ARC Trooper Blitz had once told him back on Kamino. If only this one man army could find the one person he relied on most.

Wrecker sat outside, staring at a broken heap that had once been a ship and hoping you would appear. When you didn't, he stared some more. The pile shifted every now and then, just enough to make a small sound, and every time, his face lit up, only to fall again when he realized it wasn't you. His surroundings seemed to taunt him, every sound seeming like a sign of life.

Tech remained onboard the ship, attempting to tinker his emotions away. Hopefully one of his several new projects could take his mind off the situation at hand. He couldn't focus, however, and his eyes wandered to your usual seat. For hours he sat in silence, gaze fixed on the empty seat as his mind attempted to sort out the complex wave of emotion that was drowning him.

Hunter attempted to occupy his mind with solo training outside, firing at makeshift targets and slicing through dummies with his vibro knives. It helped a little, streamlining his jumbled mess of thoughts, but worry gnawed at the back of his mind. The moment he stopped for a break, it swelled, and panic seized him in a vise-like grip.

Omega tried to keep the team in high spirits, helping with tasks and making cute little drawings for everyone, but the joy she brought was temporary. Without you around, there was a void in the hearts of each member of the team, and nothing could fill it. Not while you remained missing.

They all knew what happened. The knew Crosshair took you. Nobody had to say it. It was the only explanation as to why they hadn't found a body yet. Still, they clung desperately to the dying hope that you were alive and on Bracca, waiting for your family to bring you home. Waiting to grin at them and ask what took them so long. To tease them about how much they panicked. To hug them and punch their shoulders when they said they missed them.

But that didn't happen.

Sixteen days before the comm, eleven days after your disappearing act on Bracca, the Bad Batch returned to Ord Mantell, hoping that Cid would have some kind of solution. She didn't. She offered her condolences, seeming genuinely upset about your disappearance, but there was nothing she could do. Who could find you if you were in the Empire's hands? Who could help you? None of her contacts had that kind of power, nor did any of theirs.