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“Daddy, hurry!” Koda squealed, his long brown hair flying as he bounced on his toes next to Hunter. The flip-flops he had finally decided to wear – which were probably not the best shoes for a hike but were the only ones Hunter could entice the usually shoe-averse child to don – creaked and bent at the well-worn toes as he stretched up as tall as he could, trying to peek over the edge of the high countertop so he could see what was taking so long. “They’re gonna leave me!”
Hunter chuckled, the scissors snipping away at the square of crimson fabric he was operating on. “No, they won’t,” he assured his son. “Mama and Omega said they would wait.”
“But Aunt Phee won’t! And Darik and Cassie already said I’m – I’m –” Koda’s big brown eyes, eyes that looked identical to any Fett clone’s, squinted as he tried to pull himself up on the counter. “That I take too long!”
Hunter quickly finished the cut he was making and trimmed off the edge of the fabric, keeping one eye on the impatient munchkin as he did. Koda was a wiry little thing, all arms and legs, and his upper body strength resulted in a remarkable climbing ability, which in turn had contributed to Hunter’s regular almost-heart attacks when he found his oldest child on top of cabinets and swinging from the weeping maya tree in Pabu’s city square. That uncanny skill, paired with the fear that his aunts, mother, sister, and cousin would go on their hike without him, meant that he would have absolutely no qualms about scaling the kitchen counter if this little project took much longer.
Thankfully, it did not. The former sergeant quickly folded the fabric into a neat triangle, then plucked it up with one hand and scooped up the climbing Koda with his free arm.
“Calm down, tiger.” Hunter grinned, knowing that would never happen and preferring it that way. He plunked the boy carefully into a nearby chair and held up the cloth as proof of completion. “It’s ready.”
“Yay!” Koda’s eyes lit up. “That’s one of yours, right?” he asked eagerly, almost wriggling in excitement.
“Yeah.” Hunter’s smile turned soft and fond as he brushed his fingers through the little boy’s curly brown hair, combing it into a manageable mess before he tied it back with the bandana. “I had to cut it down for your little head, so now you have two.”
Koda’s white grin nearly blinded the tracker and pressed a new, happy picture into the memory of his heart. Hunter carefully arranged the bandana around his son’s head, trying to sweep as many curls as possible behind its restraining hold, and tied it just tightly enough that it wouldn’t come undone, but loosely enough not to give the boy a headache.
His scarred, rough fingers performed the action almost reverently, hot pressure pricking at the backs of his eyes as he tried to focus on the task at hand and relegate the memories of the past to the background of his mind.
He remembered when Ninety-Nine – his oldest brother, the closest thing to a father he had ever had – had realized his hair was getting too long to be practical. Cutting it wasn’t the best option, as it was Hunter’s only real insulation against a world full of electrical pulses and sensory feedback, things he hadn’t learned to block yet that could easily overwhelm him. The four cadets who would be Clone Force 99 never did find out where their ori’vod had scrounged up the red cloth from, but the next morning, Ninety-Nine had tied it around Hunter’s head to keep his hair back, trying to find a compromise between his little brother’s comfort and the demands of his training.
Hunter had wound up with more bandanas over the years – he had an entire collection of them now, gifts from their Pabuan neighbors and his brothers after his things on the Marauder had been destroyed – but he had never not worn one, even after he had found ways to mitigate the effects of his enhancements, and his memories of Ninety-Nine were the greatest underlying reason. After his death, Hunter had felt that in some small way, wearing the bandana his brother had given him would keep him close, would be some reminder of the maintenance clone and the life he had lived, even if he never made it off their home world. None of the clones were expected to have any kind of legacy, but all of them wanted to be remembered by their brothers, to leave some kind of mark on someone’s life, even if their own time was painfully short.
Hunter wondered what Ninety-Nine would say now, if he could see him giving his first bandana to his son. The tracker’s smile lightened just a little, looking not as heavy with remembrance as it had before.
Maybe his brother could see him now. Maybe he was one with the Force, or however the Jedi had put it, and was watching over his younger siblings, cheering them on as they built lives no clone during the wars had ever dreamed of.
Hunter hoped he was. He hoped he had made Ninety-Nine proud. He hoped he raised children who would have made him proud, that he would leave as indelible a mark on others’ lives as the older clone had. He hoped he could be the father his son and daughter deserved – the one Ninety-Nine had taught him how to be.
The chair shuddered a little against Hunter’s knee as Koda kicked his restless little feet. “Daddy?” he chirped.
The boy was trying valiantly to stay still, but Hunter could sense the squirming impatience fighting to get out. He smiled and stepped to the front of the chair, then picked up his son to help him down, even though he didn’t need it.
“Be careful,” Hunter reminded him, for the tenth time that day. “Listen to Mama, okay?”
Koda looked affronted. Somehow he had already lost one flip-flop and was trying to slide it back on while talking. “I do!” he insisted. “I mean…” His expression turned sheepish under Hunter’s knowing, raised eyebrow. “I try.”
Hunter snorted. Despite looking like his own tiny copy, Koda had somehow inherited all the mischief a young Crosshair had once displayed. “Alright. Get goin’.”
Koda took a running leap for the door, then stopped so abruptly that Hunter considered the possibility of whiplash. He froze for a moment, his nose scrunched as if he was trying to remember something.
“What’s –” Hunter grunted as the boy suddenly spun around and smacked into his knees. Two little arms snaked around his legs and squeezed him as hard as they could, and when he blinked down two big brown eyes were staring back at him.
“I almost forgot!” Koda breathed out in horror. He stretched up on his tiptoes, and Hunter grinned as he leaned down to accept the little kiss that was planted on his cheekbone. “Bye, Daddy!”
There was a flash of brown flip-flop soles, the creak of the front door, and then Hunter was left standing in the kitchen alone.
Well, perhaps not completely alone.
He looked down at the second bandana, and reached out to fold it as neatly as he had the other. The fabric felt as soft and comforting as it had the day Ninety-Nine had given it to him, and if he closed his eyes, he could still feel his brother’s hands brushing through his hair, hear his voice reminding him that even though he was different, he was loved. Even after all this time, his brother’s kind and loving spirit was still touching the galaxy, even if no one but his brothers knew it.
A warm feeling – something like liquid sunshine – flooded Hunter’s chest at the call back from the past, and he smiled.