#i demand agent kallus now!

[frc-ambaradan]

Star Wars Rebels (2014-2018), The Mandalorian (2019-), Ahsoka (2023-)

[coruscantiscribbler]

“The Things you Make Me Do...” Fandom: Star Wars, Rebels Characters: Thrawn, Alexsandr Kallus, Eli Vanto, Wullf Yularen Prompt: “The Things You Make Me Do.”

Thrawn had considered and almost immediately dismissed any notion of using his aide, Commander Eli Vanto, for this particular mission. The idea that the Wild Space native could pass as an elegant high priced Coruscant escort was ludicrous. Yes, the Commander could assume a reasonable Mid Rim accent rather than his Wild Space drawl, but he would never achieve the bitingly superior tones of one raised among the Coruscant elite.

So, Thrawn had turned to Colonel Yularen of the ISB. “I take it your target will not be… distracted by the fairer sex?” the elderly man had asked.

“No, the Devaronian prefers males.”

 The elderly man’s white mustache had twitched as he considered. “Normally I would assign Agent Collerand, man’s a complete chameleon. Can become positively anything. However, he is presently deep undercover. However, given your parameters, you a wealthy Pantoran businessman looking to trade in illicit minerals and wealthy enough to be traveling with an expensive… ah… er human companion from the Core worlds, I would suggest Agent Kallus.

Thrawn had seen the Agent about. Kallus was hard to miss given his height, his haughty attitude, his rose blond locks and that facial hair which seemed to demand attention.

“Is he up to the task?” Thrawn asked and frowned in confusion when Yularen choked a bit.

“Let us just say he shares the proclivities of your Devaronian mark.”

“That would be useful.” Thrawn had stood. “Please see that he is assigned to the Chimaera  and I shall brief him on the mission.”

That had all been done. Kallus had arrived, listened as Thrawn outlined the plan, nodded, stood and said, “I need to go shopping. I assume the Navy has given you sufficient funds for this sting?” Thrawn nodded. “How many rotations will we be playing our roles?”

“I should think no more than four. The Devaronian is planning to entertain us during the negotiations.”

Kallus had nodded. “Then seven thousand credits should do.”

Thrawn stiffened. “I would like to know precisely how the navy’s money is being spent.”

Kallus had given him a small smile. “Oh, you’ll see.”

“The lengths to which the ISB will go to maintain their aura of opacity and mystery is … irritating,” Thrawn murmured as he handed over a credit chip.

“Interesting, I’ve heard the same complaint about you, Commodore.”

And now Thrawn, dressed in a civilian suit, dark glasses hiding his distinctive red eyes, (he had indicted a medical condition to the Devaronian necessitating the glasses) stood in the doorway of the hotel bar on Canto Bight searching for Kallus. The Agent had been told to meet him here at precisely seven forty-five p.m. for their dinner engagement with the rare metals dealer and he was nowhere to be seen. And it was now five minutes of the hour.

Thrawn had decided to add Vanto to the mix as the accountant and financial advisor to Master Churecha. As usual his aide immediately sensed Thrawn’s mood when he stepped to his side to report that Agent Kallus did not appear to be in the suite or in the lobby or the casino.

“I had expected better of one whom Colonel Yularen described as one of his star pupils,” Thrawn said quietly, pushing down his annoyance.

Vanto’s brown eyes flicked about the bar. “Um, sir, he’s sittin’ right there,” Vanto said and jerked his chin toward the man seated in profile on a stool at the bar.  

His features were hidden by the sweeping brim of a hat. The heel of one boot was hooked over the rung of the stool and he held a cocktail in one gloved hand. The boots reached well above his knees leaving only a few inches of the skintight trousers to show. A small cloak was draped over his left shoulder, the shirt beneath space black, but with shimmers of blue and purple in the material.

A heavy-set human male was offering a cigarette from a gold case to the man Vanto claimed was Agent Kallus when the hat and head beneath it swiveled toward the doorway revealing the distinctive facial hair and amber eyes of Agent Kallus.

“Do excuse me, my companions are waiting for me,” Kallus murmured as he deposited his glass on the bar, slid off the stool and strolled to Thrawn’s side tucking his arm through Thrawn’s.

As they left the bar Kallus hissed in an undertone to Thrawn, “Were you ever going to come and rescue me from that crashing bore? The things you make me do. I hope whatever it was you gleaned from standing watching us for ten solid minutes was worth it!”

Vanto tried to disguise a laugh as a cough as Kallus yanked his arm free and stalked ahead toward the hotel doors. Thrawn’s steps faltered for an instant as he tried to think of a plausible explanation for why he would have wanted the Agent to spend ten minutes talking with a… crashing bore.

[primasveraas-writing]

And In Darkness, I Stand- Chapter 4

Kallus' leg is never quite the same after Bahryn. But then again, neither is he.

1  2 3 4 5

4. Yavin IV

“Captain Kallus.”

Kallus turns the best he can, gripping the handle of his cane as he does. Zeb is making his way over, his tall frame parting the flow of traffic in the hall.

“Kal,” Zeb amends with a smile, brushing a hand against the small of Kallus’ back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kallus nods, and grimaces. “I don't suppose I can use my position to get out of physical therapy?”

“No. I’ll still carry you there myself if I have to.”

Heat flames across Kallus’ cheek, but there’s nothing he can say to defend himself. His daily routine has been centered around his recovery for weeks, despite his protestations. On his first day back, he reported to Command for an extra few hours rather than going to the medbay, which caused a small uproar among the likes of Hera and Zeb. The resulting situation was a lecture from Zeb and the entire medical staff, as well as a warning from Command as to where his priorities should lie.

But aside from the initial excitement, Kallus has settled in quite well. He has his own post and a small command to his name. He’s been forgiven by the Rebels in an official capacity, and has learned when to ignore the snide comments made by his less-forgiving compatriots. For the most part, his job is normal and steady- he’s in the company of fellow spies most of the time, but everyone on Yavin is well acquainted with danger, regardless of their roles within the Rebellion. He nearly fits in.

It would be better if he were not so limited by his physical ability. He cannot stand on his leg unsupported, so he has been using a cane constantly, save for a few small excursions across his quarters, which, so far, have been painful and short-lived.

Suddenly, Kallus is bad at keeping himself out of trouble, between his efforts to heal and his apparently lacking self-care habits. This is yet another change he attributes to rebel influence, but he rather likes it, even if he is adjusting to this new life slowly.

“You’re improving and you’re not going to stop now,” Zeb growls. He may as well be threatening Kallus, who minds this fact very little. His hand tightens on his cane.

“I know,” Kallus breathes, and drops his gaze. His next step forward is slightly unsteady, but he’s overly aware of Zeb watching him closely and that his friend is fully prepared to catch him should he trip.

Kallus hasn’t fallen in weeks. He can make it all the way across base without needing to rest now. The medics say the fracture is largely healed, and he thinks he must have made some kind of progress over the last few weeks.

“Are you coming with me?” Kallus tries not to sound too hopeful or excited; Zeb usually accompanies him to the medcenter for checkups and therapy, if only to ensure that Kallus himself actually attends.

“Of course.” Zeb glances at him. “‘Til you say you don’t want me there.”

“I do,” Kallus affirms, too quickly, and tries to discern if he’s blushing again. His face still feels hot.

They make their way down to the medcenter, where the staff greets him and Zeb both by name. The journey takes longer than he’d like, and Kallus tries not to count how many people pass him. It’s mid-afternoon by then, and his leg has started to twinge, although he turns away from Zeb and bites the inside of his cheek to get through the moments of pain.

Zeb steadies him as he strips off his jacket and boots, clutching Kallus’ left elbow. Kallus shoots him a grateful smile. He wobbles on one leg, unsteady, and he knows he will not fall.

“Ready?”

It’s not Zeb who asks, but a nurse. Cida Amada, who was one of the first people he got to know during his stay in the medcenter. She barely looks old enough to have such responsibility, with her shy smiles and soft tones, but she and Kallus took a liking to each other. They made each other cry, he lost in frustration and agony, and she hurt after discovering his tendency to yell and swear when in crippling pain. Yet once he had apologized, their relationship improved, and Amada became his primary caretaker, which most predominantly includes cajoling him into showing up for his appointments.

She and Zeb seem to adore each other for this fact. Kallus can only pretend he hates it so much.

He nods, his mouth suddenly dry, and she reaches out to take his hand. He lets her, and Cida smiles at him, not meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds.

“It’ll feel better later even if it’s uncomfortable right now, Alexsandr. How have the last few rotations been?”

She is gentle and kind. Forgiving, too, which is the strangest of offerings he’s even been gifted in his life. Kallus mostly expected to be dead by now, rather than guided through a half-stocked medbay by a medic exclusively trained by war doctors. Cida genuinely likes him, too, which is odd. Both Hera and Zeb had to assure him of this fact, though Kallus is sure she wouldn’t be capable of pretending otherwise. He first had doubts about the girl’s abilities as a liar since she apologized for taking a blood sample from him. She is too good to lie, which, he supposes, is why he’s a former Imperial-turned-spy, and she is a rebel war doctor.

Cida stretches his legs and guides him through a few exercises that should be simple but prove exceedingly difficult for Kallus. He has to touch his toes. Climb stairs. Walk 2 meters with support on either side. He grits his teeth and sweats through it, mumbling curses that Cida and Zeb pretend not to hear when he inevitably falters.

His hands shake for an hour afterward. Kallus showers and lies on his bunk, exhausted.

His leg feels better than it did before.

 Had he stayed with the Empire, Kallus would have received higher quality medical care.

He might not be stuck with a limp and a cane. 

First, he would have needed to swallow his damned pride and ask for treatment, and then the initial break would not have affected him for the rest of his life. The Imperial meddroids would have returned him to normal in a matter of days, if not weeks, and Thrawn would have never rebroken the leg, even if Kallus had pursued life as Fulcrum. The Empire is equipped with better resources and better training.

But he didn’t ask for help, not upon his return from Bahryn nor any of the painful days after. Konstantine didn’t even look up at him. If anyone noticed he was uncomfortable or weaker, they politely looked away and saved that topic of discussion for when his back was turned. Kallus was alone in caring for himself, and it was thus unimportant to everyone in the Empire, including him. He adopted the same attitude regarding his own health.

Hera had caught him when he collapsed, after Atollon. Cida cried when he cried because she hated seeing him in pain. Zeb has been there for him in more ways than he can count.

Sometimes, Zeb calls him Alex. He hasn’t had that nickname since he was a little boy- his parents never bothered with it and he had few friends by the time he entered the Imperial Academy.

Zeb is the only one, in his entire life, who has called him Kal.

That’s yet another thing they share. Kallus has gleamed that Zeb never fully revealed the truth of what happened on Bahryn, even to the rest of the Ghost crew.

He does not know what would be enough to repay the Rebels. They have so little, yet they give to him, in time and effort and supplies and trust. It would be more just if these things were diverted to another, not to a formal Imperial, but they will not let him refuse their generosity.

Kallus would give his life for these people. For Zeb and the Spectres, certainly, but for those he does not know, too. For the ones who hurl dirty looks and harsh words at him in the mess and hallways, for Cida, for the other Fulcrums, for every rebel on Yavin and the galaxy beyond.

His life would not be enough, when they are the very people who have given it back to him. Kallus’ life is marred and stained and broken. He can offer the rebels service and secrets and loyalty, and he will do all he can to see them to victory. 

He wonders about that, too. He would be more confident about winning the war were he still an Imperial agent. He is a man of facts and logic, and he knows that the odds are against the rebels to prevail over the Empire.

But he believes in the rebels. Kallus believes in their cause and their people. That alone has carried them further than Kallus ever predicted.

He would give his life for them without thinking. He gives his hope and keeps his doubt and his cynicism, heavy as they are, so that they do not burden those like Pica and Leia Organa and Ezra Bridger.

Even as a rebel, being a spy still demands a certain mindset of coldness and hardness. Kallus is learning mercy, and he is learning how mercy does and doesn’t fit into his role. Draven has told him more than once that they serve the cause of the Rebellion, not its people.

Kallus is not sure he agrees. Draven has the end of the war in sight, and that is what grants Kallus peace of mind while the familiarity of Draven’s words nags at him.

Draven has also told Kallus that he is still useful, despite his leg. The General had looked at Kallus with pity while he had said it. Kallus will prove him wrong, and his heart sings with a small amount of pride with the knowledge of the difference he has made already under and to Draven’s command.

Kallus is trying to be good in his new role. He is also trying to become someone worthy of the friendship and care that the rebels have shown him.

He wants to be accepted by them. He wants to be their friend.

 “Alexsandr!”

The use of his full first name startles him, nearly as much as the alarm in Zeb’s voice does. Zeb is staring at him from across the hangar, Hera by his size. The droid, Chopper, makes some obscene noise that Kallus can only assume is scolding.

The trio is at his side quickly, and Kallus grunts as he loads the shipment onto the shuttle.

“I can do that,” Hera says. She sounds mildly scandalized, and she takes the box from his hands. Chopper wags his mechanical arm at Kallus, and emits a horrifying cackle at the indignation on his face.

“No cane?” Zeb sounds surprised, but Kallus has had a good few days. He’s permitted not to use it for short amounts of time, given that his leg doesn’t start hurting. He and Cida are hoping that this will become the norm, that he will only need his cane some days. Kallus has floated the idea of field missions once or twice already, but he’ll push for more unsupervised walking first.

“Not for a while.” It’s nearly strange not to have the cane in his hand, but he’s been making good use of his free hands for a while. Then: “General, I assure you I am very capable of doing that.”

Kallus tries to take the next box from Hera, who passes to Zeb. In turn, he holds the box over their heads, then sets it in the shuttle.

“You could hurt yourself,” Hera chides. “Let us help you.”

“Lifting a few crates will hardly send me into critical condition,” Kallus protests, but the words are weakened when Hera glares at him. Chopper laughs again. “My leg is injured, not my arms.”

“No extra weight,” Zeb reminds him, taking another box from Hera. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“It’s just-”

“We’re happy to help,” Hera interrupts. She exchanges a look with Zeb, and Kallus bites back a retort. He’s perfectly capable.

The next time he sees Cida, Kallus is sure to mention lightening the restrictions on his carrying weight. She’s willing to negotiate, at the very least, and they argue until it’s agreed that Kallus can lift, but not carry, a few kilos. He’s sure to complain very little for the rest of the session, and the nurse sends him away with a smile at the end of the day.

She tells him he’s making progress; a statement constantly echoed by Zeb. Physical therapy becomes easier and less frequent; he’s fully adjusted to using his cane, although he has started to go many days without it. At first, it’s painful- he can only endure the day without his cane if he stays in Command, but then weeks pass and he can move around base on his own. He’s outfitted with temporary mechanical braces, and he goes on his first field mission as a rebel.

The days are not bad, and the initial mission goes smoothly, as do all the ones after that.

When night falls after he returns, Kallus can barely stand, and the pain reduces him mostly immobile.

Cida worms this fact out of him after he spends two rotations chasing down a rogue informant. He had been late to see her, and stiff and quiet during their appointment.

“You’ll make it worse,” she warns him. His leg has been swelling, too. “Too much at once will only hurt you.”

“I’m useful out there,” Kallus insists, staring at his injured leg. It would be a waste if he remained on base all the time. “If I can get stronger, then I can fight.”

Cida sighs, her eyes full of worry. Kallus looks away, his heart poisoned with guilt. “If you keep doing this, you may last a few months or a cycle. After that, you could spend the rest of your life walking with pain and assistance.”

He nods once. That’s as much time as he needs, regardless of what follows.

Kallus has greater potential than what his leg allows. He could be one of the best ground fighters on base, if his body worked right.

 “Does your leg hurt?”

Kallus grunts. “My leg always hurts.” He shifts, moving his lower body as little as possible, but Zeb moves into his full view a moment later.

“You shoulda said something on way back-”

“I’m fine, Zeb.”

“Your cane-”

“It hurts with or without the cane,” Kallus snaps, then averts his eyes. Zeb’s ears flatten, and Kallus’ stomach flips.

“Are you gonna use it now?” Zeb asks quietly. They still don’t look at each other.

Kallus reaches for the offending object and thumps it against the ground. “Yes,” he mutters. That’s the only reason he got here, in some dirty corner of the base. The cane saw him back from the medbay and into the spot where he had chosen to sulk.

Apparently, the covert location wasn’t quite private enough. That, or Zeb knows him too well, because he seems to have sought Kallus out with ease. But here he is, sitting on the floor with Kallus and watching the rest of the Rebellion walk by, totally oblivious to their discussion.

“Today is a bad day,” Kallus says. That’s how he measures time- in good days and bad ones. “I’ve been having a lot of those, recently.”

“You’ve been working hard.”

“I want to go back to normal,” Kallus mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m sick of being weak. I’m tired.” He smiles at Zeb, his lips thin and pursed. “I’m done.”

“Alex.” Zeb is imploring.”How could you think you’re weak?”

“Because I can’t walk down the damned hallway!” Kallus scoffs. “Because I have gone through all this suffering and I am not better! And all I wish is that it would end!”

“That makes you weak, does it?”

“It doesn’t make me strong, Garazeb. Not the way you think I am.”

The Lasat next to him snorts. “Kal, I have seen you walk through hell and back-”

“That doesn’t make-”

“- I know how strong you are,” Zeb finishes, talking over him. “Do you trust me?”

Kallus blanches, his heart pounding. “Of course.”

“Then believe me when I say you’re strong.”

“I’ve never seen it that way.”

The words are nearly inaudible. It’s a shamefaced confession, and Zeb stares at him with wide eyes, taking both of Alexsandr’s hands in his.

“Just because I survived doesn’t mean I’m a martyr, Zeb. Or some inspiration to look up to.”

“That’s half of one of the many reasons I care for you,” Zeb whispers, his voice so, so low. “Not because you’ve managed to survive, but because of how determined you are. It’s the stupid face you make when you’re concentrating and the way your voice gets all high when you tell me about how fine and capable you are.” Zeb chuckles, and Kallus is very acutely aware that Zeb is sitting so close to him that their thighs are touching. “You’ve always been so damn stubborn.”

“You like that about me?” Some alarmed voice in Alexsandr’s head warns him that this is barely tangential to the topic at hand.

“Yeah.” Zeb’s ears twitch, and he drops his eyes from Kallus’ wondrous stare. “Even if it pisses me off.”

“I know it does.”

“Yeah,” Zeb growls, then he deflates as he sighs. “I’ve always known that about you. Even when you were trying to kill me.” He gestures to Kallus, to his brace and cane. “Seeing you recover is another way you’re proving this to me. Your absurd relentlessness. And your strength.” He glowers at Kallus when he says the last word, as if daring him to object. “You’ve always had that.”

“Someone better would have handled it with grace.”

“Maybe.” Zeb shrugs. “You’re tough, not a saint.”

“Thank you, Garazeb.”

Zeb rolls his eyes, shoving against Kallus’ shoulder gently. “Whatever.” He clears his throat. “Maybe all this made you stronger. I don’t care if you get back to normal, or whatever you’ve dreamed up for yourself. I only want you to be happy with where you were.”

“And go to physical therapy.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Right.”

Zeb grins. “By the way, if you didn’t want the hurt from your serious injury to go away, then you’re twice as big of an idiot as I thought you were. I have no idea what else you expected.”

“I expected for it to last a few weeks. Not the rest of my life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishing for that.” Zeb looks up at the trees, and Kallus thinks of a burning world, razed to the ground by the Empire. Zeb didn’t come away from Lasan unscathed, he knows. “Whatever happens though, here you are, Kal. Even if all you’ve done is survive.”

Alexsandr reaches out for Zeb’s hand, and his friend takes it. Zeb’s words are muddled with affection and friendship and respect. The person Zeb describes sounds like someone Kallus can appreciate. Somebody with an iron will and a conviction for the right kind of things. Somebody worthy of love

 That night, Kallus cannot rest. He wanders the halls, on a dreadfully familiar path- the one Zeb takes him on when Kallus has to stretch out his leg. His feet carry him into the cool night air, his cane thumping against the stone after every uneven step.

Kallus searches for privacy, but he cannot make it far outside the base. There are still lights blinking from the hangars and a quiet bustle of nightlife shows that the base is still busy, but Kallus staggers along as far as he can and settles on a log under the cover of some trees.

“Can’t sleep?”

Alexsandr jumps, then he squints in the dark. Some 30 feet away is Kanan Jarrus, sitting on the forest floor with his legs folded beneath him. He appears to be meditating; his shoulder pauldrons and mask are off, and he sounds relaxed.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kallus calls. He fumbles with his cane and readies himself to stand; he’s still slightly out of breath and now he has nowhere to go.

“No.” Kanan stands instead and approaches Kallus, nimbly stepping over branches and rocks. Kallus stares up at the blind Jedi, then averts his gaze when Kanan takes a seat next to him.

They sit together in silence. Kallus doesn’t mind the company very much; he fiddles with his hands and does his best to ignore the aching in his leg.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Kanan says finally. He turns to Kallus expectantly.

Kallus gives a nervous chuckle. “What is?”

“Healing.” Kanan opens his hands as if he’s referring to the whole jungle, instead. “Even with the people who love you at your side.”

Kallus opens his mouth to protest- he’s not sure who loves him, even if a few people come to mind- but the depth of Kanan’s words hit him a moment later.

“I don’t-” Kallus struggles for the right words. “I don’t believe I’m alone.”

Kanan nods slowly. “I had Hera with me every step of the way. She’s the most understanding, caring person I know.” Then, Kanan shrugs. “But it was impossible for her to understand what it was like, no matter how hard she tried. It was lonely.”

“Yes,” Kallus says slowly, exhaling.  “Even- even-”

“Zeb doesn’t understand?” He can hear the humor in Kanan’s voice, although Kallus cannot piece together why Kanan would be amused. “I think that’d be impossible unless he’d been through it, too.”

“Do you know anyone who did?”

Kanan shakes his head. “Not quite.” He smiles, and again, Kallus can’t comprehend why. “I had to find solace in other places.”

“Do you think you’re on the other side?”

“Of recovery?” Kallus inclines his head. “Yes. It’s different now.” Kanan’s smile becomes wistful. “But there’s no going back.”

“You made it through.”

“I did. And you will too. In time.”

“I want it to be over.” The confession falls from Kallus’ lips before he can help it. “I’m so tired of being in pain.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think it will ever pass.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then…” Kallus sighs. “Then I move forward with it, anyway.”

There’s no other choice. He will stay with the rebels until the end, and he will do so however he can. He could lose his leg tonight or he could wake up entirely healed tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be little change to his plans.

“I thought you’d say that.” Kanan rests his hand on Kallus’ knee. “It gets easier.”

“I know.” It has already. Maybe Zeb is right. Maybe he is strong because of what he has survived, and maybe there’s truth to Kanan’s words, too. 

“I think you’ll find someone who makes it less lonely. I believe you’ll find yourself on the other side.”

Kallus bows his head in acknowledgment, suddenly exhausted. “Zeb will be yours again, once we get back from Lothal.” Kanan’s seriousness disappears, and Kallus knows the moment has passed. He can’t help that the corners of his lips are quirking up, and Kanan seems to both know and enjoy this fact.

“You leave soon?” The thought is bittersweet; the Lothal rebels returning home again, and Zeb will leave his side.

“Three rotations.” Kanan answers. His tone has become heavy again, but the Jedi does not sound afraid.

“I wish you luck.”

The earliest sign of civilization is a healed femur.

[zoeykallus]

Turning Tides Part 4 - Saving Fulcrum

female OC x Agent Kallus FF

The OC is a rebel named Zoey Payne, a cheeky redhead that got herself into trouble with a certain ISB Agent we all know.

Warnings: None

What Happened Before:

Turning Tides Part 1 - Captured

Turning Tides Part 2 - Zero Gravity

Turning Tides Part 3 - Until We Meet Again

Saving Fulcrum

2 years later ...

Things had changed. Some things had changed in favor of the rebels, others had not. One of the good things was that they had an informant in the Empire ranks called Fulcrum. No one knew who he was, but his information had paid off every time and had saved many lives.

Fulcrum had also helped some rebel missions succeed. Well actually Zoey thought she knew who Fulcrum could be, but she hadn't said his name to anyone yet. But now Hera Syndulla, the pilot of the rebel ship Ghost, had picked up a radio message with an ominous twist of fate for Fulcrum.

Zoey, Kanan and Hera stood in the cockpit of the Ghost. Hera paced back and forth, the slender, green-skinned Twilek woman, frowning and looking thoughtful. Her head tentacles swung almost hypnotically with her steps. Kanan leaned against a console, arms folded in front of his chest, watching her. Zoey remained standing a little apart, watching the two of them.

Ever since they had found out that the redhead had some Force sensitivity, Kanan had been trying to train her to be a Jedi for a while. But as with everything else, Zoey was rather hesitant. Fighting just wasn't in her nature; she just couldn't imagine wielding a lightsaber against her enemies. Kanan, in his considerate way, addressed this and began teaching her other Force techniques. She could now move fairly large objects and groups of people with the Force just by her will, could speed up her movements with the Force, increase her jumps, and react much faster and more accurately to attacks. Kanan had told her several times that she was ready for a lightsaber of her own, but so far Zoey had resisted.

Today they were supposed to visit one of the forgotten temples where she was supposed to find the crystal for her saber. But Hera came with the news from Fulcrum and threw her plans overboard.

"I don't know how he was discovered, but our agent has been exposed. He doesn't seem to know anything about it yet, but Admiral Thrawn intends to let him walk into an open knife. He will torture and execute him," Hera explained seriously.

Kanan frowned disapprovingly.

"We can't let that happen," Zoey said, startled.

Kanan nodded in agreement.

"Of course we can't. We have to find a way to warn him and get him out of there," he said firmly.

"How? We don't even know who he is or how to make contact. The transponder he uses only sends messages, it doesn't receive them," Hera cursed and started pacing again.

Zoey forced herself not to stare again at the mesmerizing movement of her tentacles.

Kanan pulled his long brown hair tight and sighed.

"Show me the transponder sequence of his messages," Zoey finally asked thoughtfully.

Hera called up a file on the console in front of her as Zoey stood next to her. The redhead looked at the numbers and the data sequence presented in the form of a diagram. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I know this frequency. It's mine."

Kanan walked over to them.

"How is that even possible?" he wanted to know.

"I don't mean my current frequency," Zoey corrected her statement. "This is my old frequency, I last used it when ..." She interrupted herself and held her breath for a moment.

"When what? Zoey talk to us!" Demanded Hera, bursting with curiosity.

Zoey bit her lower lip.

"Um, there's something I need to tell you. Something that happened when I was captured during my mission with Chopper. There's a pretty big part of the story that I didn't tell you guys.

After Zoey told her story, Kanan seemed lost in thought.

"So you've been cuddling with an imperial agent?" asked Hera, amused.

"It's not that simple. It's ... I don't know how to explain it. But he was ... special."

"Because of you, he decided to defy the Empire," Kanan said suddenly.

Hera nodded in agreement.

Zoey looked uncertainly from one to the other.

"Do you really believe that?"

Kanan nodded again.

"Yes, I think so. From what you've told us, it's pretty obvious to me. He heard your story and thought about it. He didn't turn you in, he wanted to protect you. I would even suggest that he might be a little... in love with you.

Zoey blinked and felt herself blush.

"And the feeling is obviously mutual. When you saw the frequency and realized who Fulcrum might be, I felt you in the Force. You literally shone like a beacon," Kanan pointed out.

That was two years ago. But Kanan was right, the thought of Kallus still made her feel warm.

"I suppose it would be pointless to deny it. It's true, I was attracted to him, against all reason. And if I'm not mistaken, he may have thought the same thing about me. Even now, the thought of him ... triggers feelings. The thought that I might see him again soon .... well, you know what I mean," Zoey finally admitted with a sigh.

Kanan smiled in understanding, Hera also seemed to understand, which was very relieving. She said, "Somehow I like the idea of love bringing people together who were actually enemies. But to do that, we have to save the man first."

The redhead nodded decisively.

"He's using my old transponder, and I think I can make sure he gets a message from us."

It was already late. Kallus was in his cabin and about to take off his uniform when he heard a noise. He searched for the source and finally groped in disbelief for the wristband with the transponder he normally used for his Fulcrum transmissions. It wasn't supposed to be able to receive incoming messages. Hastily, he put the bracelet back in his uniform, slipped out into the corridor, and made his way to the secluded storage room from which he normally made his transmissions. Finally, he turned on the transmission and heard a woman's voice, a voice that sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't tell who it belonged to.

"I don't have time for long explanations. Your cover has been blown. Go to the nearest escape pod, leave the Star Destroyer and send us your exact location on this frequency. We are already in the vicinity and will pick you up. They will kill you if you stay."

Kallus felt an icy chill run down his spine. How had he revealed himself? Was he being overheard at this very moment? He hurried back into the hallway and looked around. It was strangely quiet. Uncertainly, he made his way to the escape pods.

"Sir! An escape pod has been launched!" Admiral Thrawn knew who was sitting in that pod. His red eyes glared at the sergeant. "Open fire on the escape pod," he ordered in a cold voice. "Sir! A vessel is approaching the pod. It's the Ghost" Between clenched teeth the admiral said: "Fire on everything that moves! And if it stops moving, keep firing, I'm not going to let this traitor escape"

A shot hit the small capsule and sent it into a spin. An alarm sounded in the small metal can. Apparently, his escape attempt had not gone unnoticed. Kallus looked through the window of the capsule and saw a spaceship coming towards him. It was the Ghost. The sight raised his hopes that he might survive this day after all. But as long as the capsule was spinning so wildly and uncontrollably, the Ghost would not be able to catch him. He cursed internally; rescue was indeed so near and yet so far.

Suddenly, the capsule stopped spinning and moved very purposefully toward the Ghost's opening cargo bay. More bursts from the Star Destroyer followed its trajectory and were now aimed at the Ghost as well, but narrowly missed it. As the pod got closer to the Ghost, he saw two figures in spacesuits. One person, the smaller of the two, who he assumed was a woman, held a hand in his direction as if mentally controlling the capsule. The other person seemed to be focused on the destroyer, perhaps that's why the shots missed. They must be Jedi, he surmised. The taller of the two must have been Kanan Jarrus. But who was the smaller of them? It could not be Ezra Bridger. This person clearly had the shape of a woman.

Just as the capsule landed in the Ghost's cargo bay and the ramp closed, the Ghost jumped into hyperspace. He was safe. At least, he hoped so. With a somewhat queasy feeling, he stepped out of the capsule and came face to face with the two people in their spacesuits. The taller of the two removed his helmet, and Kallus recognized him from the APBs. It was Kanan Jarrus, as he had suspected.

"Welcome to the Ghost," he said with a friendly smile.

Kallus nodded and said, "Thank you for rescuing me."

Kanan said with sincere gratitude, "You risked everything by giving us all this information. You saved many lives by doing so. We are still in your debt."

The smaller person slowly removed the helmet, catching his attention. A tide of copper-red hair came out from under the helmet. In long, smooth waves, the hair framed a pale, pretty face with large green eyes.

"Zoey," the former agent said, a little taken aback, but clearly pleased to see her.

"Hello Agent," she greeted him teasingly with a smile. "I knew you'd stop by."

Kanan saw the two of them looking at each other, cleared his throat briefly and said, "I'll go and keep Hera company in the cockpit. We can always talk back at the base. You two probably want to... ctach up."

________________

@cheshire-noir

[jaredstrout]

the sweetest two terrorists - adopted (attempt at being funny)

“Hello Agent Kallus” the two newest members of the Tua family happily greeted the more than stressed ISB man in perfect unison and smiled at him, that he was afraid to die of sugar shock. 

With a snarl he forced himself to play the game that the rules demanded from him. “Is your mother home? I need to see her.” he hissed thrugh his teeth and the two devils managed to smile over broader. “Mom...Agent Kallus is here to see you.” Sabine shouted backwards into the house. Ezra, peekeing over his ‘sister´s’ shoulder also turned. “And he has a new hairstyle.” Then he pointed his fingers at Kallus and blinked. “I like it.” Now you could park a Star Destroyer in his grin. And Kallus wished to do exactly that. Agent Kallus trembled in rage while the scorched remains of his beard and most of his hair were mostly held in place by sweat, blood, soot and some tears, probably.

Minister Tua appeared in the doorframe and wrapped her arms around the shoulders of the sweet little terrorists. “Oh Agent Kallus, I did expect you in the morning already.” She said, also with a very sweet smile. 

“I apologize for the delay...someone placed a bomb in my shuttle...and it crashed 20 miles outside the city. And I had to see that I would have to rescue myself as well.” he grunted, his eyes wandering from one smiling face to the other. 

“Oh I would not be concerned about that. If nobody came to save you that´s probably just because something is wrong with you.” Tua said in a very comforting voice and patted the Agent on the shoulder.

“Wait, if you crashed 20 miles away, how are you already here?” Ezra asked innocently. 

“Oh I had some encouragement...it seems some feline creatures disliked my presence.” Kallus now almost shouted at Ezra, who just shrugged. 

“Well Loth-cats are known to get angry when you give them a reason...did you do anything?” Ezra asked, smiling all the time. At least the cats explained the still rather small delay...and the improved airflow around Agent Kallus´s backside. A piece of white cloth with some red spots on it softly danced in the mild breeze, instead of covering the Agent´s no-moons.

“A heart motive? That is really stylish Agent Kallus.” Sabine noted Kallus managed to let his face resemble Vader´s lightsaber color quite well.

“A bomb you say?” Tua finally pretended to be serious. “First someone...” Now she really was serious. “...tried to murder me with a bomb in the shuttle that should take me to the lovely governor Tarkin, then his ships gets blown up, Lord Vader´s shuttle crashes under mysterious circumstances as well and now you? What is wrong with the people?” Tua said as she thought with glee at the week Lord Vader, who clearly could swim despite his...personal style, had to spent on one of Lothal´s islands. How he did survive was a mystery as well, as anyone from off-world would call the so called islands on Lothal ‘mountains with water’.

“And now I have to tell you, that we got a bit tired of waiting and ate all the cake already...I am so sorry Agent Kallus.” Tua said and gently patted the shoulders of Ezra and Sabine. Agent Kallus gulped down any comment he might have on that just turned around, what caused Tua to cover the eyes of her new children...and walked away.

“Have a save way home Agent Kallus.” the three told him as he left. Tua then got the two back into the living room. “Oh my, Agent Kallus looked stressed, such a shame that he was late.” she said and got herself another pieace of chocolate cake, before leaving the rest of the payment to her employees. Both hurried to take their reward. “Hmm I do hope Agent Kallus is in a hurry next time though....” Sabine started while chewing. “I did forget to warn him that someone stole a few parts from his speeder bike...the brakes to be exact.” She said. Ezra shrugged. “That should help him to be punctual next time...especially if someone applied a little heavy duty glue to the acceleration throttle.” Ezra said and threw the empty glue tube into the trash.

“Well what a day...so many people had such horrible accidents. Maybe we should invite Tarkin to some cake? He was so stressed the last time he was here, he made everyone loose their head.” Tua said while she watched Sabine return to her homework. Clearly something about chemistry, although the cables and the timer might hint to something more in an engineering direction.

Ezra grinned and handed Sabine some more parts. “If he makes it in time her certainly deerves a piece of the cake...otherwise we will have to eat it...again.”

[jellysharkbat]

Shower Thought #2

What if...Zeb demanded that they turn around and go back to Bahryn.

Like, he knows the Empire isn’t coming to save Kallus. He knows that. They all know that. Even if they try to tell themselves differently, they know the truth.

And Zeb can’t. Yeah, Agent Kallus is a dick who tries to capture or kill them over and over again, but they did manage to work together. They survived until the Ghost came. They even talked a little.

Even if it’s an Imp, he can’t just turn away like they didn’t spend hours on end relying on each other, knowing that Kallus is severely injured and unable to protect himself- both against any creatures like those giant birds or the weather.

That moon is cold enough to make Zeb cold! An Imp in piddly clothes that aren’t meant to survive harsh, icy weather has got no chance.

It just wouldn’t be right to let him die like that.

And yeah, Zeb knows that Kallus is an enemy and honestly? They’re lives would be so much easier without him constantly on their tails but all the same, he argues that they need to go back. Just to check. Just to make sure that the Empire actually did pick him up. Just to ease Zeb’s mind.

Much to his surprise and relief, they do.

They go back and find...nothing.

The spot where Zeb had last seen Kallus is empty, completely devoid of a blond asshole and his uptight Impy ways. The Empire must’ve come after all, someone says. They can go now. It’s damn cold and they have places to be. Besides, coming back to an area where toe Empire was isn’t a smart idea.

And Zeb is ready to agree when he notices something in the snow: footprints. Awkward, leg dragging behind him, human footprints that were quickly being covered up by latest snowstorm.

Zeb feels like a rock just hit the bottom of his stomach. It looks like there’s only one set of footprints, and it’s leading away from where Zeb last saw Kallus. He can’t see anything that might say someone helped Kallus limp his way into a ship.

Just one set of disappearing footprints.

He makes the decision to follow them, much to the dismay of the others. But Zeb is determined to find Kallus. If he’s still here....

It’s not a long trek.

They find Kallus collapsed in the snow, clutching a glowing rock of some sort. He’s deathly pale and probably two-thirds frozen. And barely breathing.

But he is breathing.

Zeb doesn’t even think through what he’s doing as he picks Kallus up and throws him over his shoulder. The weather’s getting bad, after all, and they need to go.

Jumping into hyperspace is a little awkward, and none of them have any idea what to do with their...prisoner? Guest?  Highly questionable cargo?

He’s been defrosted (*snerk*), bundled up, and his injuries were taken care of as much as they could with what was available and what they were willing to use on an Imperialist. As it turns out, it’s not just a broken leg and the scraps and bruises from his and Zeb’s fight that they find. There’s also a head-wound.

Kallus must’ve collapsed and gave himself a good knock on the head, they conclude.

For awhile, things kind of go back to normal. Zeb stays with Kallus, while everyone else makes plans for what to do next. Every once in awhile, they pop in to make sure Zeb is okay and...I don’t know...maybe he should...not...care about Kallus?

Ezra gets a decent glare for that suggestion. Well, he tried. He can’t fathom why Zeb suddenly cares so much. And neither can Zeb. He just knows that that it wouldn’t be honorable to leave Kallus on that moon.

It takes a few hours after first picking him up, but Kallus does come to. Slowly, at first. And he seems to be in pain as his body warms up.

When it looks like Kallus is coherent enough to understand him, Zeb is the first to ask how he feels. Surprisingly, Kallus gives him a frank and honest answer: he’s not sure but he hurts. A lot.

And then Kallus gives Zeb a hard stare but asking: “who are you?”

Can you imagine would awkward that would be? Here’s Agent Kallus- someone they all despise except Zeb now apparently- and he has no idea who they are, who he is, why he’s injured, or where he is.

All he knows is that when one of them tries to take away the rock they found him with, he panics and begs them to not take it. It’s important. It...it just is.

[anathtsurugi]

A Gentle Nudge - A Kalluzeb Ficlet

Hey all! Still alive up in here. Surgery recovery is going well, but yeah, that’s definitely why the delay in the latest chapter of TCTW. In the meantime, have some more ficlet.

 I am a Jedi. My patience is without limits.

 "Zzzzz."

 I will not be moved to anger. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 Though I'd say you're already suffering pretty hard, a second, snide voice in his head adds.

 I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the Force, the Force is with me. I am one with the kriffing Force, and the kriffing Force damn well better be with me!

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 Kanan Jarrus gave up on sleep with an enraged cry, sitting up in his bedroll. In all his travels throughout the galaxy, he had thought he'd come up against the worst snorers the stars could show him.

 Then he had met Garazeb Orrelios.

 This fool Lasat could snore louder than a sonic buzz saw and nothing could seem to wake him once he'd fallen asleep. Kanan had tried shoving him, poking him, shouting as loud as he dared, even tried some less than gentle Force prodding. Nothing. His companion was dead to the world. There was nothing for Kanan to do but spend the night on forced watch, because there was no way he could sleep with that racket in his ears, and he couldn't quite talk himself into smothering their new companion.

 He would just have to suffer through it in grudging meditation...and vow never to go on a night run with Zeb ever again.

XxX

 Just go to sleep. You've heard worse.

 "Zzzzz."

 Seriously, if you can sleep on the streets, you can sleep anywhere. This sleemo's not gonna get to you.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 You're not gonna blow this by complaining to Hera the first kriffing night!

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 "I give up!" Ezra Bridger snarled miserably, curling into a ball and burying his head beneath his pillow.

 In the alleys and slums of Capital City, he had heard all different kinds of snoring, from the tiny and petite to the loud and monstrous. But nothing, nothing he had ever heard in his young life came anywhere close to the sound of Zeb Orrelios snoring. Forget the scent, forget the grudging, growling anger and snide comments and threats of bodily harm. Nope. He could handle all of that.

 It was the snoring that would drive him crazy.

 He didn't doubt they'd put him, the new kid, in a bunk with Zeb for a reason. Well, if they were trying to smoke him out, they had another thing coming. He was sticking this out. But just because he had tried everything he could think of to get the snoring to stop short of outright shoving a pillow in his bunkmate's face didn't mean he couldn't make Zeb pay for his own lack of sleep come morning.

 Where was it Sabine kept those spare paints again?

XxX

 Just another tired soldier.

 "Zzzzz."

 He needs his sleep same as you.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 Bear up, Captain. You got through Echo's and Wolffe's snoring. You're gonna get through this, too.

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 "Oh, for the love of kark, Zeb!" Rex snarled as he sat up beside the slumbering Lasat, delivering a blow to his massive shoulder that did nothing whatever to interrupt his sleep or his snoring. "Guess now I know the reason Kanan refused to do these overnighters with you."

 The only response he got was a warbled binary chuckle from Chopper as the snarky astromech rolled through the little camp.

 "No, you can't poison him," the old clone scolded...

 ...tempting as the offer was at this exact moment.

XxX

 If the Spectres had learned anything about Kallus in the weeks since he'd properly joined up with the Alliance, it was that he was a supremely light sleeper. It wasn't possible to enter a room without waking the man if he happened to be catching a few moments' sleep. Ezra had once attempted to wake him and had gotten a hand at his throat for his troubles.

 He hadn't made that mistake again.

 None of them had asked questions when Kallus and Zeb had begun to spend more and more of their down time together...nor when they'd even begun to hear certain noises from behind Zeb's closed and sealed bunk doors.

 No.

 The question they all really wanted to ask was...what would happen to this burgeoning relationship of theirs when Kallus' light sleep came up against Zeb's infernal snoring?

 And that answer came on a routine supply run.

 Awaiting their contact planetside, the team had set up something of a camp beneath the Ghost. After fighting off a local gang to prevent the discovery of the drop off point, Zeb and Kallus were both plainly exhausted and had fallen asleep together near the heating unit Hera had going, facing each other with their arms loosely around one another. And of course, as they all knew he inevitably would, Zeb began to snore.

 "Zzzzz."

 "Oh, boy," Kanan muttered.

 "Zzzzzzzz."

 "Here we go," Ezra said nervously, eyes flitting to the napping pair.

 "ZZZZZZZ."

 As if set to a chrono, Kallus started awake, eyes darting about for danger, but he quickly realized it was only the sound of Zeb snoring. Smiling easily at the Lasat, he shook his head and pressed a kiss to Zeb's forehead. Then he began to push him and they all tensed, waiting for the inevitable struggle that would ensue.

 But it never came.

 With Kallus' gentle nudging, Zeb simply rolled onto his other side and fell silent. And for a moment, the Spectres all reveled in the sudden silence of the camp, all shocked beyond words. But before Kallus could fall back asleep, they were all on him.

 "How did you do that?" Sabine demanded in a hiss.

 "I- I'm sorry?" the ex-Imperial started, looking up at all of them.

 "I didn't think that was physically possible," Kanan said.

 "Did I miss something?" Kallus continued to ask in bewilderment.

 "Alexsandr Kallus, you are a miracle worker," Hera declared with a smile and a small shake of her head.

 "What?" he tried again, still unable to make heads or tails of their amazement in the blissfully silent atmosphere.

 "No one in the galaxy has ever been able to get Zeb to stop snoring. And then you just waltz in here and give him a little nudge and that's the kriffing end of it?" Ezra demanded. "I call bantha poodoo! You come into my house-"

 "Shush," Kallus pleaded with a small smile, understanding beginning to dawn. "You'll wake him."

 "Mating krayt dragons couldn't wake Garazeb Orrelios," Rex put in. "Doubt even you're gonna change that."

 "Well...we'll see," the ex-agent said tenderly, more for a different pair of ears than theirs. Kissing one of those ears, he smiled and tucked himself back in against Zeb, wrapping an arm around him and spooning him from behind. Zeb himself just gave an easy sigh, smiling peacefully in his sleep.

 No one else commented on it again. They all simply sat back and relished the unexpected peace and quiet of the night.

So I feel like I should probably tell the story that had a hand in inspiring this little piece.

I have, historically, always been a very loud snorer. My wife's a very light sleeper herself and she quickly discovered that the best way to alleviate my snoring was to give me a little push so I would roll over and cut that shit out.

Some things I suppose I should point out here are that I am, A. a damn heavy sleeper, and B. one stubborn bitch. I've never considered myself a particularly accommodating person. When I dig my heels in on something, they will stay dug, come hell or high water. Neither of these things are true with my wife. Where a combined earthquake and hurricane could never wake me, she can wake me with a few gentle touches and a whisper. And when she wants me to roll over, all it's going to take is that little push.

Everyone else? Ehh...they're not so lucky.

When I was waking up from my recent gallbladder surgery, I learned from the nurses that they'd had to fight me every step of the way to keep me lying on my back. Apparently I had done nothing but try to curl up on my side. Probably could've saved themselves the heartache and just gotten my wife down to recovery. Heheh.

[evabellasworld]

Alexsandr Kallus x OC

Ambush: Chapter 5

Masterlist: 1│2│3│4│5

Also on AO3

OC: Emma Tua

Opening her eyes, Emma groaned as she felt her head throbbing, finding herself lying down on the cold, durasteel floor. "Where are we?" she asked, rubbing her forehead. "We're locked up in a cell," Kallus answered, as he helped her stand her feet on the ground and sat her down on the prison bench.

"How long was I knocked out?" she glanced at him, squeezing his hand. "Quite long, actually," he told her, pushing strands of her hair behind her ears. "Are you alright?"

Emma gave a slight nod when she heard the cell door hissed in front of her, revealing to be Agent Kwon, with her arms guarded behind her. "I see your partner is awake," she spoke, in an icy tone. "Ready to talk?"

Kallus glared at his former mentee, tightening his lips. "There is nothing you'll gain from us, Agent Kwon."

"Really?" she chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "From what I read from your files, you used the codename 'Fulcrum' to leak Imperial information to the Rebel Alliance, am I correct?"

"I'm guessing Thrawn must've filed that," he dodged her questions. "The Grand Admiral is very particular about everything he finds, after all."

"Did Mon Mothma sent both of you to gather the supplies here in Christophsis?"

Kallus lifted his shoulders. "You were the one who leaked false information to the rebellion and lure us here just to capture the both of us. Looks like I taught you well."

Agent Kwon sighed in frustration as she pounded her fist on the wall. "Answer the question, you traitor," she barked, her eyes twitching. He burst into laughter as he slapped his thighs. "Whatever you say, miss."

She slowly removed one of her gloves as she slapped his cheeks, leaving a red mark. Emma stood up and swung her fist at the ISB agent, only to be deflected, much to her surprise. Agent Kwon stretched out her leg and kicked her in the abdomen, causing her to fall on her back. 

As Agent Kwon grabbed her blaster from her holster, Kallus grabbed her neck from behind and pressed it harder, making her face turned purple. Emma stood on her ground and jabbed her jaws, dropping her on the floor. Snatching her blaster and comlink from Agent Kwon's holster, Emma held Kallus's hand and ran out of their cell, blasting a couple of stormtroopers on the way out.

Agent Kwon caught her breath as one of the stormtroopers approached her and helped her out. "After them!" she barked, dusting her tunic. The trooper gave a nod and ordered his men to chase down the rebels in the hallways.

"So what's the plan now?" Emma asked Kallus, tackling the stormtroopers with her fists. "We'll steal another ship and fly out of this planet," he answered, as he blasts one of them.

"We're not leaving The Argonaut behind," she shouted, as she elbowed them in the eye. Kallus groaned in frustration. "Your plan didn't work, Emma."

"We can try again," she headbutted them, then pushing them into the garbage chute. "I have a better plan this time."

"Isn't it more efficient to grab a ship and fly away instead?" Kallus shot down a bunch of stormtroopers. 

"Arin will kill me if I don't return with the ship."

"Fine," he unsealed the door, preventing more troopers from chasing them. "But if I die, you're paying for my funeral."

"Fine by me," she grabbed her hand as they raced towards the hangar, only to be greeted by more stormtroopers, surrounding them in circles. "It's over, rebel scum," Agent Kwon appeared from behind, pointing her blaster. "You both are outnumbered. Now surrender or my troops will become a firing squad."

Emma's lips curved upwards as she raised both her hand and pressed her comlink on her wrist. "Kill us?" she snickered. "You're gonna need us to destroy the rebellion."

"What are you up to?" he whispered in her ears.  

"Distracting her. Now get ready to jump off from the platform."

His eyes widened as he watched her take a few steps forward towards his former student, letting out a sigh. "You're quite smart for a former Imperial Technician, actually," praised Agent Kwon. "Perhaps you would be even better as an Imperial officer. The uniform looks good on you, actually."

Emma grinned as she glanced up at the midnight sky, her ship hovering above them. As The Argonauts opened fire at the platform, she blasted some of the stormtroopers and took her partner's hand, as they both jumped into their ship together. "We'll be back, agent," she saluted, as the ship door closed automatically.

The duo walked inside their cockpit and found a pink astromech and a blonde-haired android taking control, much to Kallus's confusion. "Who are they?" he asked. "That's Somi, our astromech and Elly, an android," Emma introduced. "They mostly helped around with the ship."

He raised his eyebrows as Emma sat down on the pilot's seat. "You didn't tell me you had an astromech and an android."

"You didn't ask," she teased, as she noticed a swarm of TIE-fighters flying towards their direction on their scope. "We have TIEs incoming."

He ran out from the cockpit and climbed into the dorsal laser cannon, shooting some the TIEs one-by-one. Emma flew The Argonaut in zig-zagged, avoiding the laser blasts coming from the Star Destroyers. "We have more TIEs in front of us," she yelled. "I'll take care of it," Elly replied, as she jumped into the nose laser cannon and fired upon the TIEs into bits.

Emma pulled the steering upwards, turning the ship upside down. Kallus held on his grip as he almost fell off from his seat. "What in blazes are you doing?" he demanded, his head feeling light. "Finding an opening to jump."

"There's no way we'll get out of here if you fly like this," he retorted, missing a few ships from his visor. 

"Oh Alex, don't you have anything positive to say?"

"I'm positive that you’re going to be the death of me," he shot down a TIE fighter, making Emma snort. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard from you."

"Em, we're all clear," Elly took down the last TIE. The brunette-haired woman cheered as she jumped into hyperspace. Kallus walked into the shuttle and exhaled in relief. "Looks like we escaped from Imperial custody."

She gestured to Elly, letting him take the co-pilot seat. "I'll admit. Your plan actually worked."

"Of course it does," she winked, as the android entered, holding a first-aid kit. "Would you mind helping me clean my wounds?"

His cheeks turned red. "You want me to heal you?"

Emma nodded as she removed her shirt, revealing a few bruises on her midriff.

 "Don't be shy," she giggled at him. "I don't bite unless you want me too."

Kallus cleared his throat as he grabbed an ointment and poured it on a cotton pad, rubbing it gently on her stomach. He felt his heart pounding as he wrapped a bandage around her thick waist with his clammy palms. He then looked away as Emma put on her shirt. "Do you have any bruises?" she asked, finding it hard for me to stop smiling.

He shook his head. "Only a few on my back," he pointed out. "But I'm alright."

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

"Alright then," he turned around as he lifted his shirt, showing his wounds on his back. Emma tended to his wound with her gently arm, admiring his muscular body. "So, how often do you workout?" she asked, biting her lips. He chuckled and glanced at her. "An hour a day," he answered, putting his shirt back on. "What about you?"

"Two hours a day for me," she crossed her head, leaning against her seat. "Although, I'm pretty weak at climbing."

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Of course you are. Have you tried practising?"

"Yeah, but I kept falling. My brother would laugh at me and call me names."

"Did you try practising alone?"

"I did, but I still fall."

He leaned closer to her, making Emma beamed up. "Then, in that case, I'll help you out with that," he offered. "I promise I won't laugh at you."

She gave a light slap on his shoulder as she suppressed her giggles. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Kallus almost choked on his saliva as he blinked a couple of times, scratching the back of his neck. "Of course not, unless you want me to."

Emma burst into laughter as she playfully punched his elbows. "Okay, now you're teasing me."

He rolled his eyes as they arrived at the rebel base a few hours, greeted by Mon Mothma and Maira Marago. "You're late," scolded the red-haired Senator. "Explained yourselves."

"The supply run turned out to be a trap, senator," Kallus explained. "Apparently, my former student, Agent Eunbin Kwon, has lured both of us into a trap and tried to interrogate us for more information about the Rebel Alliance."

Maira's eyes widened as she glanced at Mon Mothma. "How did you both escape?"

"It was a team effort," Emma answered, squeezing his hand. "If weren't for Kallus, we wouldn't make it back alive."

"Get some rest, both of you," Mon Mothma advised. "I expect a full report by tomorrow."

"Yes, General," he saluted, as the Rebel Alliance leader dismissed the couple, leaving them alone with Maira. "So, I take it you both got along very well?"

"We did," Emma smiled. "Although I find pretty predictable."

Kallus scoffed as he nudged her shoulder. "Predictable? You were pretty reckless."

"Looks like you both a great team after all," Maira chuckled, as she was about to leave. "Maybe next time I'll assign you two lovebirds in the next mission."

He crossed his arm as he watched her heading towards the ship, before shifting his focus towards Emma. "We should call it a night. It's getting late."

She gave a nod. "I'll see you tomorrow for climbing practice."

"Be there before sunrise," he gave a reminder. "You know I'm not into latecomers."

Emma smiled as she followed Maira into The Argonaut, waving at the former ISB agent. "Good night, handsome."

"Good night, Em."

[narkinafive]

fic draft for a sw/rvb au i have w @evaceratops​; i’ll post it here to get it out of my system, then clean it up and put it on ao3, so comment w your thoughts if you want!!!!

ghosts that linger, 3k, gen, ft. ezra, kanan, and kallus

Not for the first time, Kanan regretted saving Kallus’ life, if only because the man forced them to change bars every time they met. Kanan had really liked the bartender at the last one. 

Tonight’s bar was cleaner, classier, a hell of a lot more expensive. Crowded, too--women and men with dangerously low cut tops and glossy lips hang off the arms of their increasingly drunken patrons, identical smiles painted on their beautiful faces, delicate fingers drawing patterns in the sweet, fruity smoke that permeated every corner of the room. Kanan knew that smoke well; just one pack of Shento cigarras would cost him about a fifth of a good smuggling run. He preferred the cheap shit, not because it tasted any better, but he didn’t refuse the one the tall, pretty Togruta boy offered him, flipping him a fifty-credit chit and a wink in exchange. Kallus already had his lighter out by the time he turned around to face his dinner guest. 

“I was under the impression you were trying to quit,” he said, one blond eyebrow carefully raised, a familiar opening to a familiar routine. Normally Kanan wasn’t one to back down from a verbal fight, but tonight, something felt… off. The air was thick with more than expensive smoke and pheromones; there was an itch between his shoulders that he just couldn’t reach. Beneath their table, his leg was bouncing so violently you could almost see it in the glow of the cigarette, vibrating despite his steady hands.

Kanan took a long, long drag of the cigarra, held it, then released, and it did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. “Any word?”

Kallus hmmed, thoughtfully. Usually a bad sign. “Down to business, I see?”

“Got a girl at home for a few days,” said Kanan, flicking ash into the crystal tray in the center of the smooth, dark table. “She doesn’t want me to stay out too late tonight--said she had a surprise for me if I made it back in time.” He grinned a leering, toothy grin, one he had perfected over years and years of sexual conquests, though he and Kallus both know full well that he hadn’t slept with anyone in months. “So, any reason you insisted on seeing me tonight? You wanna join us?” He felt himself smile wider, baring his teeth.

Kallus rolled his eyes, Kanan detecting a hint of sincerity behind the action, then slid him a thin, beat-up data pad he had pulled from his jacket, a silhouette of a pretty young thing painted in black, scuffed in that telltale way of repeated re-recording. “Far be it from me to encourage your predilections,” he sneered, “but here: the video file you requested.” 

And only now did Kanan finally understand the reason for tonight’s setting: Cinisia Club was one of the last places on the planet that didn’t regulate the sale and exchange of sensitive or explicit information. Hiding extremely confidential Imperial data in a porno-vid? Honestly, it was genius. Kanan groaned appreciatively, loud enough that even the eavesdropping droid would be convinced. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed, “the little miss and I are gonna enjoy this one.” The droid, satisfied for the moment, turned its attention elsewhere.

But as Kanan made to slip the datapad into his pocket, Kallus stopped him with a hand. “As much as I disapprove of your little hobby,” he said, each word perfectly shaped, perfectly chosen, “might I suggest enjoying this one without your, ah, little miss? I fear it may be a bit too… much for her, seeing a family member like that.” 

Kanan froze. A split second, but he froze. Kallus’ face revealed nothing, perfectly composed as he sipped at his drink. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means,” said Kallus, “that this video might upset your lovely date, and then who would warm your bed for the night? Certainly not I.”

His heart beat so hard in his chest that he thought it might pop out. He knew. He knew about Ezra. He knew what they were looking for. “Anything else?” he asked, mouth dry enough that he was surprised he could even get the words out.

Kallus shook his head. “Enjoy.” And with that ominous blessing, Kallus returned to the remains of his drink, dismissing Kanan without so much as a second glance. 

Sliding out of the booth, Kanan thought for a second that he might faint, then thanked the god he no longer believed in as the lightheadedness passed without incident. But he was sure everyone could see his pale face, his trembling hands, his sweaty brow. It was like every set of eyes in the club tracked his every step as he made his way to the exit, each mocking smile haunting him with the question: do they know, too?

He took his speeder to the opposite side of town, ran a loop around the back alleys, just in case someone decided to follow. No one did, as far as Kanan could see. The lights were always on in this part of town, illuminating the unceasing river of sentients crossing into and over the space port, leaving very little shadow to hide in. Imperial propaganda sounded triumphantly from every corner, an overlapping cacophony of music and commands, screens cheerfully brandishing shuttle times and wanted posters. Helmet on, he waited in a dim corner, eyes fixed on the screen as it worked through its roster of suspects. Senator Mon Mothma, it read. General Jan Dodonna. Saw Gerrera. Admiral Gial Ackbar. Travia Chan. Cham Syndulla. Fulcrum, real identity unknown. 

No “Kanan.” No “Caleb” either, for that matter. No other names.

Though who knew how many names there would be tomorrow.

He watched it cycle through again. “If you see something, say something!” Chirped a woman’s voice from the loudspeakers, her words echoing across every surface, broadcast as far as it could possibly go. Kanan could still hear her as he sped away, twenty minutes later. He heard her even as he got out of range, her words ringing in his ears as loudly as any alarm.

Kanan had docked his ship in the bad part of town, but he hadn’t been worried. The Kasmiri wasn’t anything too flashy; spacious quarters had been sacrificed for smuggling compartments long ago, and Kanan had had her repainted as soon as he was sure Janus Kasmir wouldn’t be able to track them down again. Still, his heart lifted somewhat as he approached, lowering the ramp to reveal the soft, warm glow of the cargo bay. Despite her rough exterior, she was still home, a home he hadn’t had in a long, long time.

As Kanan ascended the ladder to the galley, he found that Ezra was still awake, and apparently helping himself to a late night snack, pilfered from Kanan’s emergency stash. “Where were you?” he demanded, perched on the dejarik table, mouthful of a half eaten ration bar.

“Out,” was all Kanan replied, even knowing full well that such a vague answer would do absolutely jackshit to nip Ezra’s curiosity in the bud. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Ezra swallowed. ��Were you out with Fulcrum?”

“You, bed. Now,” he ordered at Ezra’s glare.

“Did you get any info?”

“What part of ‘bed’ was a little too hard for you to understand?”

Hopping off the table, Ezra followed Kanan to his bunk, dogging his heels the whole way. “You reek of Shento smoke, and the only place on this dirtball high rolling enough for cigarras like that is going to be the Cinisia Club, which I know for a fact that you refuse, on principle, to even go within three blocks, so the only reason you would go into Cinisia would be to meet with your contact, and the only reason you would actually physically meet Fulcrum instead of just comming them would be because they have something really important to tell you!” He was practically jumping up and down, pacing the very short length of Kanan’s cabin. “Am I right?”

The kid had been hanging around him for way too long. “Not even a little.” Ezra harrumphed, crossing his arms. “Seriously, you should get some sleep. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, be ready at 0500, sharp.”

Eza groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “And now we’re running away!” He turned on his heel and stalked out, heavy footfalls and bitter muttering echoing off the walls.

Kanan almost thought about calling him back. He had promised the kid to keep him in the loop, and if this file was what he thought it was… but Kallus’ warning surfaced in his memory. A family member. 

How in the hell did Kallus know that he was looking for information on Ezra’s father? Moreover, how in the hell did he even know Ezra existed? How the fuck had Kanan let that happen? He thought he had been so clever, so careful, and he had failed, and it was only a matter of time before--

He shook his head. Kallus wouldn’t betray him, Kanan’s leverage was too strong, at least for now. Once again, Kanan regretted saving the man’s life: even if having an ISB agent in his back pocket was ridiculously useful from time to time, he was certain that, eventually, the secrets he knew would cease to be a good enough threat to keep Kallus from talking.

The ancient datapad booted up agonizingly slowly, heat radiating off the back of it. The screen was scuffed and distorted, laser-pixels clumped together at the corners, but the picture was as clear as it could be. The dark windowless room, the slanted table with attached restraints, the sharp, yellow grin of the Grand Inquisitor, it was all a horribly familiar scene to Kanan. “Prisoner Oh-five-seven-seven-four,” he said, his back to the struggling man on the table. “Ephraim Bridger, is it? I understand that you and your wife once had a son. Ezra, yes?” The man--Ezra’s father--Ezra’s father--spit at the Grand Inquisitor in lieu of an answer. “According to our records, he died in the riots at the age of seven. A shame, really; he showed remarkable aptitude in his Academy exam. With the right training, he could have been a great asset to the Empire, had his mother not foolishly chosen to--”

Ezra’s father swore in his native language. “Don’t you dare talk about her! Don’t you dare!”

Kanan paused the vid, listening out for footsteps around his door, and heard nothing. Good. Ezra couldn’t keep quiet to save his life, usually. He did not want the kid to see this. Hell, he hardly wanted to watch it himself.

He hadn’t been on the assignment, but he remembered the incident well. Kanan had been twenty-two, and so green, relegated to desk work while his superiors thought of ways to fix his “problems,” but he had been called out to the scene anyway. Sometimes he could still picture the scene in his mind, perfect in his memory: the dark night, the wet, hard ground, Mira Bridger’s body. The way her arms had been outstretched, like she was reaching for something. The tear tracks on her face, the slackness of death unable to hide her terror and despair. 

And he remembered his orders. Sit on this one, Dume, the Grand Inquisitor--then the Counselor--had coldly informed him. And then, The Director sees no need to include that information in the incident report. And then, You have been taken off this case. Moving forward, this will be handled by more qualified agents. 

Ephraim Bridger’s face snarled at him from years ago, eyes blazing. He’d seen that same look before, on Ezra’s face as he saw Troopers harassing those street kids on Garel.

Kanan pressed play again. 

“Very well,” said the Grand Inquisitor, “What would you like to speak of, Mr. Bridger?”

“I know you took my son,” Ephraim growled, weak, defiant.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled, thin as the interrogator droid’s needle, and just as sharp. “Mr. Bridger, your son has been dead for years.”

“You lie,” he said. “We knew you wanted him for your little cult, and when Mira and I wouldn’t simply lay down and let you take him, you killed my wife and stole him!”

The needle moved, and Ephraim writhed on the table, the twitch of his jaw as he struggled to hold in his shouts evident as the clenching of his fists. “You are mistaken, Mr. Bridger.” 

And on it went, for forty-eight minutes. Forty-eight minutes of torture, and lies, and the strength and ferocity of Ephraim’s will, unyielding against the Grand Inquisitor’s attempts to break it. “Don’t lie to me,” Ephraim gasped, face thunderous. “Why did you take my son?”

“Your son died in the riots, Mr. Bridger.”

“Where is he?!”

Kanan paused the vid, scrubbing a hand over his face. It just didn’t make any sense. The JEDI program had been dissolved when Palpatine took control, so why would the Grand Inquisitor be looking for new recruits? And if they were looking for new soldiers, why didn’t they take Ezra? The kid was smart, quick on his feet, great with machines--he should have been a prime target for the JEDI. Could they just have completely missed him?

No, Kanan decided, this was deliberate. Maybe it was because of his parents, but he didn’t see how leaving alone the child of two known insurrectionists would have benefitted the JEDI; if anything, it would have made him even more of a prize, a big fat slap in the face of the movement. So why leave him alone? And why, if you’re going to leave him alone, go through all the trouble of relocating him?

Too many things didn’t add up, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough for any of this, and outside his cabin was the telltale shuffle of someone listening through the door.

Sure enough, he palmed open the door, and Ezra was there, jerking away from the hole where the wall used to be. “Did you say my name?” he asked, smiling like he hadn’t just been attempting to eavesdrop.

“No.”

“I heard my name. What were you watching?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Ezra was a right terror all the time; a tired Ezra even more so. “I told you we had an early start tomorrow.”

The transformation was startling. Where once had been an obstinate teenager, a kid who enjoyed glaring daggers at him from across the dinner table, disobeying orders in flight, and refusing to come to blaster practice, stood a repentant child, his eyes wide in that rarely-seen puppy-dog way that he never outgrew from the street. “Look,” he said, arms raised, placating, “I’m sorry for snooping. You’re the boss, and your business isn’t mine. You’re entitled to your secrets, and that includes not telling me what you were up to tonight, even though you promised not to hide information from me if I thought it was important. Right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay,” said Ezra, unperturbed, “but I just think--”

Kanan groaned.

“I could really help you out!” 

“Ezra--”

“I’m still pretty small, I’m quiet, I’m awesome at pick-pocketing,” he counted off, “I could be a really great spy!”

Kanan sighed, the telltale signs of an Ezra-induced headache beginning to manifest, a subtle throbbing beneath his temple overcoming his need to stay as rational as possible. “We’ve been over this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and under no circumstances will I use you as a spy. You are not getting involved!”

“I’m already involved!” Ezra said. “You think if you got caught then they wouldn’t arrest your ‘mechanic’ for treason, too?”

He was right, of course. “Ezra,” said Kanan, bringing his hands down on his shoulders, tilting his head up to look him in the eye so that he could see, so that he could understand, “you listen to me. If there is the slightest chance that you can get out of this with your nose clean, then you take it. Do you understand?”

“Kanan--”

“Ezra!” He shook him. “Do you understand me?!”

“Fuck you!” Ezra roared as he shoved him off, nearly knocking Kanan into the strut of his bunk. “Just, fuck you! They were my parents, and I have the goddamn right to know why they died!”

“I know!” Kanan shouted back. “Of course you do.”

“Then tell me what’s going on!” Ezra advanced, hands balled into fists, jaw clenching with barely contained rage. Just like his father.

He couldn’t keep this from him for much longer.

“I don’t--” He broke off, willing the right words to come, “I don’t want to be wrong about this.” Ezra faltered at that, his shoulders losing some of their rigidity as his anger started to bleed out of him. “I have my suspicions, but that’s all they are right now: suspicions. This isn’t just a simple matter of corruption. What I’m--what we’re investigating might involve people so far up the chain of command that they could take us out in broad daylight and walk away without a single scratch on their reputation. These people,” for Kanan knew them well, knew them so intimately it still made him sick sometimes, “these people don’t care about right or wrong, or justice, or anything like that. And they certainly won’t think twice about killing you for what you know.” 

Heavily, Kanan sat on his bunk, the lumpy bed sinking even further under his weight, under the weight of the goddamn world. He was so goddamn tired. 

The mattress dipped as Ezra sat beside him, never taking his eyes off of him. “I can’t sit by and do nothing, Kanan,” he said, softly. “They were my parents.”

Something tried to crawl its way up Kanan’s throat, sitting heavily. This kid. “I know. And I promise, I won’t keep anything from if I think it’s important enough for you to know. But right now, the less you know, the better.”

His mouth twisted, but, eventually, he nodded. “Can…” he looked away, arms coming up to hug himself, the scrape of fabric on fabric seeming to center him. “Can you at least tell me what was on the vid?”

Kanan’s stomach plummeted. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of recycled air, dirty laundry, the lingering stench of Shento on his skin. When he opened them, Ezra was looking at him again, the bright blue of his eyes somehow dimmer in the low light of his cabin.

He would rather have the obstinate teenager than this.

“It was an interrogation archive,” Kanan said.

“The Grand Inquisitor?” 

“Yeah.” Ezra shuddered, and one hand rubbed at his wrist, almost subconsciously. “I thought it might have some new info, but… he was just torturing the prisoner. Trying to make him forget something he had seen.” Which was true. Nothing in that vid was news to Kanan.

Beside him, Ezra dipped his head, dark hair in his eyes, and tilted slowly until it could be said that he was leaning on Kanan. Kanan’s shoulder twitched, but he knew better than to try to hug the kid. “And the prisoner?” he asked. “What did he know?”

“He knew…” Kallus’ voice in his head, again. “He thought he knew why they were targeting your mother.”

“Did he?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” And the truth was, he didn’t. The Rebellion, the JEDI, the Grand Inquisitor, the Bridgers, and their son; every answer to every question revealed a whole new web of entanglements, of money and power and depraved individuals, and Kanan was still so lost, adrift in the void of space without a heading. “There’s so much that just isn’t adding up, and I want--I have to be sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, before I can go any further with this.”

He felt, rather than saw, Ezra’s nod. He wondered what Ezra could feel from him, if he could tell that Kanan still, despite his promises, was lying to him. 

[mightylauren]

Still Untitled Kalluzeb Snippet

(This is a chunk of the first chapter which takes place right after Zero Hour)

        “It’s not that,” Kallus said, then choked on his next word as the lasat moved a hand down to his bare chest to check the bruising. The touch was surprisingly gentle, especially as Zeb began smoothing a balm over the dark splotches to help them heal. 

        Zeb was highly expressive. When Kallus didn’t continue, the lasat’s ears wilted and his eyes crinkled with concern. He kept looking up from his work to Kallus’ face. 

        “Then what is it?” Zeb asked, swirling a clawed finger to indicate he needed Kallus to turn so that he could reach the bruising on the former Agent’s back. 

        “The transmission,” Kallus began, turning as requested. “It wasn’t intended to warn you that Thrawn knew where the base was. Thrawn didn’t know your location until I sent that transmission.” He let out a shoulder sagging sigh with the admission. 

        “What do you mean?” 

        Another sigh, as Kallus felt the cooling comfort of the salve being spread across his back. “I was attempting to warn the rebellion that Thrawn knew about the planned attack on the factories of Lothal,” he explained. “Thrawn followed me, blocked most of the message, and then used the trajectory to triangulate the base’s location. It’s... it’s my fault. Today was my fault.”

        The hand on his back froze. “No it isn’t,” Zeb said gruffly. 

        “Of course it is. After all I’d done to hide it’s location I handed over the last clue he needed because I was sloppy,” Kallus said. “How did I not realize I was being followed? I could have cost us everything.”

        A soft growl filled his ears, and for a moment he was  confused as to where it came from. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and sent his stomach back into flutters. 

        “Kal, look at me.”

        Kal?!? he thought confusedly, but did as he was told. 

        “This wasn’t your fault,” Zeb said, his eyes boring into Kallus’. “Thrawn got the upper hand. It was bound to happen eventually. The man’s ruthless. He even scares Hera. Nobody scares Hera. Sure we took a hit, but it wasn’t a total loss because we got your warning.”

        Kallus didn’t know what to say, he blinked and then let his eyes fall away from the lasat’s face. 

        “How bad is your leg?” Zeb asked. “Don’t think I didn’t catch the limp.”

        “Well, it’s never been quite the same since Bahryn,”

        Kallus admitted. “But Thrawn got in a lucky kick.”

        Another defensive growl from the lasat. “Pants, off.”

        Kallus nearly choked on his own tongue. He knew now was a really inopportune moment to realize that on some level he was attracted to Zeb. Between the gruff tone of his voice as he’d said it and just what he’d demanded the former ISB agent had to reign himself in from being turned on by it. 

        He stood with his back to the bunk as he slid off the straight black trousers. Now he was down to just his boxer briefs, feeling completely exposed in front of the lasat. Kallus couldn’t tell if Zeb was angry at him along with the chiss who had caused his injuries so he stayed quiet while his leg was examined. 

        “Your knee is dislocated,” Zeb said, after a while. “Putting it back in line is going to hurt.”

        Kallus sighed. “What’s a little more pain today, I suppose.”

        Zeb seemed to soften, the scowl in his face lessening. “I’ll give you something for pain after,” he said. “Have you seen this painting Sabine did.”

        Kallus followed where the furry raised arm was pointing, and after a moment looking at the graffiti art, which appeared to depict Ezra Bridger falling from his bunk onto Zeb, a zing of searing pain shot through Kallus’ leg. It seemed the painting had been a distraction for the lasat to jam the injured knee back into place. 

        Kallus let out a strangled cry, falling back into the bunk. 

        “Karabast, I’m sorry,” Zeb said, hands raised as he backed away. “I find not knowing when it’s coming helps.”

        “It’s alright, had to be done,” Kallus said through pained breaths. He sat back up and gingerly moved his knee, it did move easier. 

        Zeb fished out a bottle of pain pills from the first aid kit. “These’ll probably knock you out for a bit,” he said, tossing the bottle to his patient. “So you might as well get comfortable.”

        Kallus was hesitant to lay down in what was clearly the lasat’s bunk, but when Zeb returned with a blanket he had little choice. He poured two tablets into his palm and swallowed them back before surrendering the bottle. Then he pulled his legs up into the bunk, and Zeb surprised him by unfurling the blanket and covering them for him. 

        “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it out safe,” the lasat said, as he stowed the first aid supplies again. “I was… upset when you decided not to get out when Ezra tried to rescue you.”

        There was a strange tone to it, a softness Kallus has never heard before. “Well, I’m here now,” Kallus said. “And I’m glad to see you. I... I’ve missed you since Bahryn.”

        The medicine was quickly taking effect, Kallus couldn’t even believe he’d said that. He sank deeper into the bunk, scrunching his eyes closed so as to hide the look of surprise on the purple features of Zeb’s face. 

        “Get some sleep, Kal,” he said. 

        “Will you still be here when I wake up?” Kallus asked, tugging the blankets tighter around himself. 

        “Got some crew business to take care of,” Zeb answered. “So if you wake up and I’m not, know that I’ll be back.”

I originally was going to post the entirety of the scene in which Zeb retrieves him from the hall all the way through this but that turned out to be 1500 words. 

[arwenkenobi48]

The Sting ~ A Star Wars Rebels Fanfic ~

Disaster strikes! Grand Admiral Thrawn has captured Maul, a valuable member of the Ghost Crew and mentor to the young Ezra Bridger! As the feared Imperial takes the Zabrak in for interrogation, Ezra and his friends set out to rescue him. Little do they know that Thrawn isn’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve...

Ezra stared in shock at the hologram, which showed the geometric symbol of Fulcrum. His face was pale with fear and his breathing was shallow and rapid. “Ezra? What’s wrong?” asked Kanan, sensing the boy’s fear. “Another transmission from Kallus,” Ezra murmured. “He...He said Maul’s been captured!” The rest of the Ghost Crew, who had joined him, all gasped in horror. “Damn it! I shouldn’t’ve sent him on that mission to Garel!” Hera groaned. “The Empire knows we have connections there!” 

“Don’t blame yourself, Hera,” Kanan reassured her. “It was a risky task, after all,” “Yeah, but Kallus said the Empire only captured him!” Ezra pointed out. “Everyone else was just set free and they’re on their way back here!” Everyone was confused. “Ezra? Who captured Maul?” asked Hera slowly. “Kallus said it was...Grand Admiral Thrawn!” Ezra shuddered. “Oh, Force... We need to rescue him!”

“I agree! Who knows what Thrawn could do to him!” Sabine stood beside Ezra. “I’m with ‘em!” Zeb agreed. “So am I!” Hera joined them. Chopper beeped in agreement. “Kanan?” Everyone asked. Kanan gave a very long sigh. “I may not be on the best of terms with Maul, but the Empire shouldn’t keep him,” He murmured. “Alright! To the Ghost!”  Ezra grinned. “Ezra, we’re on the Ghost!” Hera rolled her eyes. “Oh. Well...let’s do this!” Ezra did a fistpump. “For justice! For freedom! For-” “You’re overdoing it,” Sabine deadpanned.

Meanwhile, on the Chimera...

“Get your hands off me, Imperial Scum!” Growled Maul. He was strapped to a metal rack, Stormtroopers and probe droids on either side of him. The cell doors opened and two Imperials stepped in: Grand Admiral Thrawn and Captain Slavin. “Well look who it is, a spider in the web,” Murmured Thrawn. “You’re insane!” Growled Maul. “No, just sophisticated,” Thrawn replied. “I’m only one step away from discovering the planet that your Rebel allies use as their base, the name of which you will kindly tell me,” 

“NEVER!” Spat Maul. “Never say never, my dear Maul,” purred Thrawn. “Wouldn’t you agree, Captain Slavin?” The captain simply smirked in a sadistic way. “You see, Maul, my trusted lieutenant here-” Thrawn uttered this sentence in a way that implied he and Slavin were something more than colleagues “-has armed those probe droids with a truth serum designed to affect even Force-users like you. You will tell me where the base of Phoenix Squadron is, whether you want to or not!”

Meanwhile, in the landing bay of the Star Destroyer...

Ezra Bridger and the Ghost Crew looked gratefully at Agent Kallus. It really helped to have an ally behind enemy lines. He had smuggled them in with little effort, as Thrawn and Slavin were occupied with the interrogation of Maul. “Where is Maul?” Asked Ezra, more than a little scared, although he tried to hide it. “Thrawn’s keeping him in one of the detention cells,” Kallus replied. “Follow me, I fear something terrible’s happening to him,” Suddenly, Lieutenant Lyste showed up. “What’s going on?” He asked.

Meanwhile, in the cell...

“Don’t try it!” Growled Maul, as the probe droid - carrying a syringe filled with a transparent fluid - hovered closer. “You won’t get a word out of me, you hear that? Not a single damn word! OW!” He yelped as the droid injected his arm. “He’ll talk now, Sir!” Slavin grinned wickedly. “I hope so,” Thrawn smiled. He tilted the man’s chin up as if teasing a kiss, before turning to Maul, still hurling insults at him. “Assassins! Tyrants! A...oh...ooooh...” His words faded into a delirious mumble. “Now then, Maul, we’re a bit more cooperative, aren’t we?” Thrawn purred. Maul nodded sluggishly, staring up at Thrawn with dazed eyes. 

“Now, would you kindly tell me where the base of Phoenix Squadron is located?” Thrawn enquired. “Na...Naboo! Yeah, that was it!” Maul murmured. “Good,” Thrawn turned to Slavin. “Captain, set the hyperdrive coordinates for-” “Yep, the Battle of Naboo, ten years before the Clone War!” Maul exclaimed. “What!?” The two Imperials stared at him in amazement. “That was where I fought a Jedi!” Maul told them excitedly. “I was 22 years old! Whoo-wee, that was a fight worth seeing! Cost me an arm and a leg!” He giggled. “Or rather, both legs and no arms! Heeheehee!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Demanded Thrawn. “Err, he seems to be showing resistance, sir,” said the baffled Slavin. “I’ll give him another shot,” He did this. “Ouchy!” Squeaked the now very high Maul. “Now, please tell me where the Rebel base is,” said Thrawn politely. “Mandalore, behind enemy lines,” said Maul. “Are you sure?” Asked Thrawn. “1001 percent!” Maul replied confidently. “Finally,” Thrawn sighed.

“Yep, in the palace of Sundari!” Maul recounted. “It was there that I fought Pre Vizsla, then took his place as the leader of Death Watch! Ooh, he really lost his head over that!” He began giggling childishly. “Captain,” Thrawn was dripping with sarcasm. “Congratulations, your plan is a brilliant success!”

Meanwhile...

Ezra gave a sigh of relief. Finally, Kallus had managed to convince Lyste that they were prisoners being taken in for interrogation. He was beginning to worry that he’d have to use a Force kind trick on the Imperials, but luckily it hadn’t come to that and he was too worried about Maul to concentrate on it. “Kanan, I’m scared,” He whispered. Kanan gave his hand a little squeeze. “Hey, we’ll get him back, I know it,” He murmured. Ezra tried to swallow the lump in his throat as they approached the detention block.

Meanwhile, in the cell...

Captain Slavin had filled another syringe with truth serum and was watching Maul with baited breath. “Should I-?” He began to say, before Thrawn spoke. “Maul, are you finished?” He asked. Maul had apparently recovered from his laughing fit and asked, still a bit slurred: “Yee?” Thrawn, whose saint-like patience was beginning to wear off, asked yet again: “Where is the Rebel base?” “Why, it’s part of the Rebel band, of course!” Maul giggled.

Thrawn wasn’t as short tempered as his fellow Imperials, but this time, he pretty much lost it. “Sir?” Slavin asked nervously. Thrawn hissed under his breath. “Captain Marco Slavin,” He spoke with the voice of a tiger stalking its prey. “Unless you’re prepared to bear the shame of a demotion-” Slavin lost his nerve and freaked out, actually shrieking “Mommy!” and brandishing the nearest implement in self defence...which happened to be the syringe. 

“Ow!” Yelped Thrawn, as the tip of the needle stabbed his elbow. Maul looked at Slavin with a lopsided smile. “Heheh, you poked him,” He said. “Thanks, I didn’t know that,” said the captain sarcastically. “Slavin, don’t stab me with that needle!” Thrawn winced, rubbing his elbow.

Ezra and the others, meanwhile, were right outside the cell. Kallus had redirected the Stormtroopers, giving them some precious time to rescue the Zabrak. Ezra decided to listen in on what was going on and what he heard blew his mind. “Was that syringe empty?” Asked Thrawn. “Uh, nearly, sir,” Slavin cringed. “You don’t feel bad, do you?” 

“Bad? Me? Of course I’m bad!” Thrawn’s words were slurred slightly and it was clear that the truth serum had got to him. “Pah, you don’t know bad!” Maul boasted. “I’m an evil mastermind!” “Come now, you couldn’t possibly be as cunning as me,” Thrawn smirked. “What? I’m way badder than you, Mr Blue!” said Maul sassily. “Are not!” said Thrawn. “Am too!” “Are not!” “Am too!” Captain Slavin stared at his employer/crush and at Maul in disbelief. He couldn’t work out what in the world was going on.

“Tell him, Slavin!” Thrawn exclaimed, grabbing the man’s shirt (yet again). “Tell him I’m the baddest!” “He’s the baddest!” Slavin gabbled. “Tell him how I was going to fire you after I found the Rebel base!” “He was-what!?” Slavin squeaked. “Meh, that’s not so bad!” Shrugged Maul. “My master was so ashamed of me he replaced me with a vampire wizard! Now that’s bad!” “That’s nothing!” Scoffed Thrawn, as Slavin slowly backed away. “I beat up three students from my Academy and ditched my Southern then-crush for Marco!” 

“Kanan, do you believe this?” asked Ezra as everyone listened, both unnerved and somewhat amused. “Nope,” said Kanan, shuddering slightly. They all heard a long “Pfffft!” noise and then Thrawn saying: “Nobody blows a raspberry at me! Take this! Pfffffffft!” “Sounds like we should intervene,” said Kanan, but before they could open the door, Slavin came running out of the cell. “Help! The Admiral’s gone crazy!” He yelled, waving his arms in the air as he fled down the hallway. “Oh, great! That’ll bring the Stormtroopers our way!” Kallus winced. “Better make it quick!”

Ezra entered the cell to find Maul and Thrawn, both under the influence of the truth serum, nose to nose and squabbling like schoolboys. “Are not!” “Am too!” “Am not!” “Are too!” “Hah! I win!” Maul grinned, then in a vague singsong. “I am the baddest!” “Come on, Maul, we’re taking you home!” said Hera sternly. Ezra removed Maul’s restraints with the Force as Thrawn pouted grumpily nearby. “Oh, Maul, what did he do to you?” He whimpered. Maul looked at Thrawn, muttered something about being in a timeout, then winked subtly at Ezra with a small, knowing smile.

Once the Rebels had escaped and the Ghost entered hyperspace, Maul flung his arms around Ezra in a tight hug. “Oh, my dear apprentice, did you think I’d gone crazy?” He asked. “Yeah,” Ezra mumbled, his head buried in Maul’s shoulder. “I almost went crazy, I thought you’d gone crazy!” “Well, I’m very much in the here and now,” said Maul reassuringly. “But how?” Asked Ezra. “They drugged you, I sensed it,” “Actually, they didn’t,” said Maul. “The syringe went in alright, but it was empty!” “What!?” Ezra gasped.

Meanwhile, back on the Chimera...

“What!?” Squawked Slavin. “Yes, Captain, you injected him with an empty syringe!” A much more lucid Thrawn glared furiously. “Didn’t you know that!?” “I couldn’t tell, the serum’s transparent!” Slavin squeaked. “But wait, how come you went loopy when you were injected?” “Because you actually filled the syringe that time!” Thrawn facpalmed. He sighed, sinking into his office chair. “Captain, I need a Vodka. This day is too bizarre even for me,” 

“How on Lothal did Captain Slavin manage to do that?” Ezra was laughing now, more with relief than anything else. “I don’t know, truth be told,” Chuckled Maul. “My best guess is either his own incompetence got the better of him, or we have a good ally behind enemy lines. I believe you call him Kallus?” “Ah, that sneaky, fantastic man!” Zeb laughed. “Oh, Maul, I’m so happy you’re back!” Ezra smiled. “Me too,” Maul grinned, ruffling Ezra’s hair. “Not the first time I’ve orchestrated a sting operation, though. I’ve done this sort of thing once before. It was towards the end of the Clone Wars...” As he told his tale to a rapidly increasing audience, Kanan muttered through a facepalm: “Here we go again...”

MTFBWY <3

[warsamongstthestar-keen]

Chapter Twenty-One

Keen is sitting next to Ezra on a transport ship, along with some rebellion crew, and Commander Sato. She has her eyes closed, trying to get some rest, which is difficult with Ezra repeatedly smacking her seat. The Jedi sighs, shifting slightly in the chair, as once again the Padawan hits the chair. "Ezra," she says, not opening her eyes.

"Yes?"

"You hit this seat one more time and I will throw you out the exhaust port."

"Oh...sorry." Almost immediately the seat stills, and the Jedi sinks further into the uncomfortable chair, arms crossed.

From behind her, a crewmember says, "We'll be arriving in the Del Zennis system any minute."

"Well, we're coming up on the last known position of our missing patrol, but I already checked the star charts, there's nothing out here. But obviously that's not true since the ship went missing, so you know, there must be something out here," Ezra rambles.

The Jedi Master sighs, sitting up in the seat, deciding that sleep at this point is completely impossible, as Sato says, "When Captain Syndulla said you volunteered for this mission, she insisted you could be helpful. Let us hope that is true."

The Padawan closes his eyes, drawing the Force around him, concentrating, he snaps his eyes open, and says, "Something's about to happen."

Keen quickly grabs a hold of one of the straps on the wall, preparing for a crash, or something similar. From the back of the cockpit, she hears a crewmember say that they've lost their control for hyperdrive.

"Emergency positions," Sato calls.

"What's happening?" Ezra shouts. "Are we under attack?" he specifically asks Keen.

"We're being pulled out of hyperspace," the crewmember answers.

"Oh, so we're fine then," Keen shrugs.

"Being pulled from hyperspace isn't how I'd define fine!" Ezra shouts at her.

"All life support is functioning, so nothing all that bad to worry about."

"Secure all stations and get me a status report," the Commander orders one of his men.

"Instruments are frozen!"

The ship falls all the way from hyperspace, an Imperial vessel coming into view. "It's a Star Destroyer!"

"No, that is something else," Sato states "Send a distress signal, now! Phoenix home to Ghost, we've been pulled out of hyperspace. The Empire..."

The hologram cuts out, just as the rest of the ship darkens as well. Suddenly the ship starts to move forward mechanically, clearly locked into a tractor beam. "Okay, now it should be a bit more worrisome."

Once the rebel ship is drawn aboard the Imperial ship, the crew is extracted by an army of Imperial Troopers.

"Don't worry, Commander," Ezra says, as the rebels are led to the cockpit of the Imperial ship, "I'll get us out of this. I've been captured many times."

"You're not putting my mind at ease."

"Well, I've escaped a lot too."

"Yes, sadly," Ar'iabel snarks at him, to which he replies by sticking his tongue out. The Jedi Master rolls her eyes, a movement going unnoticed through the mask covering her face. The three are shoved rather unkindly through an open door into the cockpit.

"Rebels," the Imperial Admiral states, sneering at the group, "Out here searching for your missing patrol, I assume."

"We are members of the Corporate Alliance. You have taken possession of my ships illegally and I demand you release us."

"You are in a position to demand nothing, Commander Sato. Ah, yes, I am familiar with your activities in this sector. I suspected if we captured even one Rebel ship, others would race to the rescue, but I dared not hope we would capture someone as significant as you. And what might your name be, young man?"

"Jabba the Hutt," Ezra sasses.

"Indeed. You are a tad small for a Hutt, but I know someone else who goes by the name "Jabba", Ezra Bridger. I imagine Agent Kallus will be quite pleased to hear you have joined us. And the mask just gives you away, Master Jedi. Secure them."

The insurgents are drug from the cockpit, two Stormtrooper's per person.

The Jedi Master is unceremoniously tossed into a shallow cell, slamming against the opposite wall. A mere two seconds later the doors slide open, Ezra standing in the doorway. "Well, you didn't waste any time," she mutters. From around the corner, two Stormtrooper's burst into view. The Padawan wastes no time in shooting each of them with his lightsaber. And then Chopper wheels in.

"Chopper?" the Padawan bursts out. Keen chuckles, walking amongst the  fallen Troopers, before grabbing her bag from one of them.

Chopper grumbles at the boy, telling him the identity of the 'Stormtrooper's'. Carefully, Ezra removes the helmets to reveal a groaning Kanan and Rex, much to Ezra's chagrin. "Kanan. Rex. Rex, come on," he says, shaking the boys.

"What just happened?" Kanan slurs, as he looks around.

"Oh, uh, did you see them? We were so outnumbered. There was a fire fight, a big fire fight actually. You guys fought great."

"Oh yeah," Ar'iabel laughs. "So many Stormtrooper's. Who knew you two work together so well," she adds, finally turning to face them.

"Thanks. All I saw was you." Chopper rolls forward, showing a hologram from a few minutes ago. "You shot us! I can't believe you shot us!"

"I mean, you were dressed like Stormtroopers."

"Kids got a point, Sandy."

"You shot us," Rex laughs, standing to his feet, rubbing a hand over his head.

"I set it to stun."

"Yeah, well, you should have used kill."

"What?" Kanan protests to the Clone.

"Well, just in case it wasn't us, I mean."

The Knight scoffs, climbing to his own feet, "This armour doesn't protect you from anything."

"Well, I told you," Rex argues.

Keen grumbles under her breath, before stating out loud, "Now is not the time. We need to find Sato, and sabotage this ship."

"Yeah, they have this gravity weapon thing that–" Ezra sees the faces both rebels are giving him, "You already know this."

"So, what's your plan?" Rex asks them both.

"Well, we should probably split up. I'll take Keen and Chopper. He can get us to the reactor that powers this thing. You two bust out Sato."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," the Jedi protests, "We are not splitting up. Let's get Sato and get out of here."

"The kid's right, we have to destroy this ship."

"Do you know how many stormtroopers are heading this way?"

"Doesn't matter."

"We can't afford to separate."

"We have to protect the fleet."

Throughout the argument, Keen is standing off to the side shaking one of her lightsaber hilts which one of the Troopers fiddled with. It's not working correctly, the blade all wobbly. A scowl deepens across Ezra's face as the back and forth continues, until he finally snaps, "Will you two quit it already? Part of the reason I took this mission was to get a break from this. OK, Chopper, Keen, and I will meet you at Sato's ship."

The boy storms off into the ship, grabbing Keen's arm dragging her along behind him. Chopper trundles after the two, grumbling.

[primasveraas-writing]

down the only road i’ve ever known

Kalluzeb Appreciation Week Day 6

Wednesday, May 6, 2020: Confession—other people’s reactions

WORD COUNT: 678

XXX

"I apologize again, Captain," Kallus tries, but Hera only shakes her head, smiling softly.

"It's alright, Kallus," she says, and Kallus can relax just a fraction before her eyes grow serious again. "Just tell us next time, alright? You don't need to risk yourself like that."

The former Imperial agent nods, then glances down the hallway. The door to Zeb and Ezra's quarters is firmly shut.

"I'm afraid Garazeb might not be so forgiving," he confesses, and Hera raises an arched eyebrow.

"You'll have to ask him, then," the pilot replies, the corners of her mouth quirking up slightly. She passes the agent to return to the cockpit, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder as she goes.

Kallus swallows hard, then approaches the forboding door. The sound of metal clangs as he knocks, and Kallus winces at the harshness of the sound.

Worse still, the door slides open abruptly, and Kallus comes face-to-face with the angry Lasat. Zeb stares down at him, then grumbles to himself but lets the other man in.

“What?” He says gruffly, and Kallus can feel his heart sink already.

“I just wanted to say,” he swallows thickly, “I apologize for the move I pulled earlier.”

“You mean the stupid one where you almost got yourself killed?”

“Yes,” Kallus concedes, “that.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t do it again.”

“Zeb, I get the impression that you’re angry with me,” Kallus says, and Zeb snorts.

“Did ya now?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“It’s fine-”

“Clearly it’s not,” Kallus snaps, pacing about the small quarters. “You took issue with what I did, so here I am trying to remedy it.”

“You nearly died,” Zeb snarls. “That’s what happened, remember?”

“But I didn’t,” Kallus hisses, finally provoked. “I know the risks of what I do and it’s always going to be dangerous. I’m not trying to die, Zeb. Today was foolish, yes, but I’m not exactly in the business to be safe-”

“What would I do?” Zeb demands, spreading his arms wide. “You die like an idiot and where does that-”

“I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself, Garazeb!”

“Karabast, Kal, I can’t lose you!” Zeb shouts, and Kallus freezes.

“Wh- what? What did you say?”

Zeb sighs, looking away. “I said… that I can’t lose you.”

He’s looking at the ceiling, the bed, anywhere but Kallus. The former Imperial can feel his face growing hot, his boiling frustration evaporating instantly. He takes a step closer, and Zeb freezes.

“Zeb, I didn’t realize…”

“No, you don’t have to-”

“Zeb,” Kallus’s words are careful, painfully deliberate. “I didn’t realize you felt the same way.”

“It’s completely-” Zeb does a double-take. “What do you mean, ‘the same way?’”

“Yes,” Kallus admits, letting a nervous smile flit across his face. “I care about you.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.” Insanely, a laugh escapes Kallus, and almost against his will, he approaches Zeb further. Finally, the other man looks at him, and Kallus’ heart stills.

His smile is returned, but Kallus can’t breathe. Zeb is only inches away now, mouth opened in a grin

“What kind of care are we talking about here?” Zeb asks, voice low and teasing.

He knows, Kallus thinks, heart pounding. The bastard knows. 

All in a rush, he remembers months of flirting, stolen glances, endless nights where all he could think of was Garazeb Orrelios. There had always been something unspoken between them, lurking beneath the surface of their friendship ever since that ice moon, but he never quite imagined, never truly dared to ever hope that his feelings would be reciprocated, much less come to fruition.

He’s aware, distinctly, of how close Zeb is to him suddenly, then the distance between them lessens, then there’s lips on his and stars Zeb is tall, but strong enough to lift Kallus off his feet, and maybe he’s forgiven, then and there.

“I still don’t forgive you,” Zeb mutters against his mouth, and Kallus scoffs.

“I think I can convince you otherwise,” he says, smirking, and Zeb hums in agreement as he leans in to kiss Kallus again.

[kingdomheartsloversstuff]

Ashla’s Will Chapter 3- Holding out Hope

 Read it on AO3

Hey guys!! So whose not handle the end of Rebels? Not me that's for sure. Enjoy this chapter that may help you deal with no Rebels on Monday haha. Anyways enjoy!

He could only vaguely remember the last time he’d felt so empty, right after his parents had been ripped away from him. And then again when he thought Kallus had died the first time. He’d come back then, he knew this time though he wouldn’t come back. In the distance he’d heard the fighting and the sounds of blaster fire that had cut off just as suddenly as it had started, and when Kallus didn’t come back he knew exactly what had happened. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe, the only thing he could do was tightly cling onto Mr. Muttonchops and pray this was all some sort of horrible nightmare that he would wake up from.

 As the hours slipped by though, he knew he wouldn’t wake up, his dad was gone. Ezra buried his face in Mr. Muttonchops fur, trying to think about simpler, happier times.

 <em> I can’t promise nothing will ever happen…but I swear I will do everything in my power to make sure you won’t ever be alone again. <em/>

 <em> But I am alone, <em/> Ezra bitterly thought. <em> You abandoned me, you promised you wouldn’t and you did. <em/>

 “Hello?” A voice called into the cave. Dev letting out a gasp of terror “Dev? Is that you?”

 “You…I think I remember you…” Ezra slowly said wracking his brain for when he could have met him.

 “I’m Zeb,” Zeb said, “Me and my friends are friends with your dad-“

 “Were,” Ezra corrected, fighting back tears.

 “Were?” Zeb asked.

 “He’s gone,” Ezra whimpered “T-the Empire took him.”

 “What do you mean?” Zeb asked.

 “He ran back when he realized we were being followed and I-I heard blaster fire and then it just stopped a-and when he didn’t come back….h-he’s gone…” Ezra managed to get out. His dad was dead-

 “The Empire took him, but we can get him back,” Zeb firmly said.

 “No, not taken-“

 “We saw where the fight was, he wasn’t there,” Zeb assured, “He’s alive.” Alive, the word filled him with a hope he didn’t think he’d ever feel again.

 “We’ve got to get him back!” Ezra cried.

 “We will,” Zeb firmly said, “Right Kanan?”

 “We’ll talk to Hera,” Kanan said.

 “Come on then!” Ezra cried, scrambling to his feet, scooping Mr. Muttonchops in his arms. Last time he lost a parent, he was too young to do anything about it, now he was no longer a helpless child. Now he could do something. Kallus had risked everything to get him off Lothal all those years ago, now it was time to return the favor. He would not lose anyone else to the Empire. “Where’s your ship?”

 --------

 All things considered, Kallus lasted longer than expected. He’d been able to get the drop on the first group of troopers that came through the hills, taking out 6 of them before they figured out his location and quickly overwhelmed him. A part of him hoped Kanan and Hera would arrive in the Ghost before he was overwhelmed and help him, but another was grateful. If they had come before he had been captured, but another knew it was for the best they didn’t. If they had arrived before he was captured, they would have tried to help, and Dev may have been dragged in as well and been captured as well, or worse.

 No, as painful as it was it was better this way. He just wished he could have said goodbye to Dev and tell him he loved him and maybe seen Zeb one last time, ask him to look after Dev. He could only pray they would take care of Dev and protect him. Maybe help him find a new home? One with a family not being hunted by the Empire.

 Kallus desperately clung onto that hope as he was dragged back to the city and towards one of the bigger Imperial complexes where he would no doubt be tortured for information before being executed for defecting from the Empire. At least he could die knowing Dev was safe, or safe as can be in a galaxy controlled by the Empire.

 With rough hands Kallus was dragged into an interrogation room and strapped down into an interrogation chair, Briggs entering the room followed by an Interrogation droid.

 “Agent Kallus,” He drawled, smirking at Kallus. “Comfortable?”

 “How considerate,” Kallus said through gritted teeth.

 Briggs smirk widened as he continued, “I must admit I was shocked to see you here, we were all certain you perished on Lasan with your comrades.”

 “They were hardly my comrades when they started slaughtering children,” Kallus spat.

 “Those monsters don’t deserve your pity,” Briggs said. “We’re better off with those things wiped from the universe!”

 “No one deserves what the Empire did to Lasan!” Kallus exclaimed. “They were innocent-“

 “Innocent?” Briggs exclaimed. “Where you not the sole survivor of the brutal massacre of your unit by a Lasat?”

 “The actions of one Lasat didn’t speak for all of Lasan!” Kallus cried.

 “So is that why you defected and joined the Empire?” Briggs asked, Kallus however remained silent, merely glaring at him. “What about that brat of yours? Dev Morgan?” When Kallus continued to refuse to answer, Briggs rolled his eyes and grumbled, “I was hoping to have a civilized conversation as former colleagues but it seems we’ll have to take more drastic measures.” The interrogation droid revealed a needle that Kallus knew held truth serum.  It had been years since he’d had any training in resisting the effects of truth serum, he could only hope his training still held up.

 The droid injected Kallus with truth serum, the effects quickly kicking in, his mind starting to go foggy. He’d forgotten how unpleasant the effects of the truth serum where.

 “So…where are the rebels hiding?”

 “Rebels….?” Kallus asked, mind struggling to understand the question. They thought he was a rebel? Why? Even in his confused state he knew it made no sense for them to think he was a rebel. There wasn’t a rebel presence on the planet, was there any real rebel presence anywhere outside of isolated cells?

 “The Rebels,” Briggs repeated. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know…why would I?” Kallus said, unsure if it was the serum talking or him. It didn’t particularly matter either way, he truly had no idea where the rebels actually where.

 “Hmm,” Briggs said, “Let’s give him another dose.” The next dose started to make his limbs heavier, the fog in his mind getting thicker, but not so much he couldn’t resist it. He hoped. “So let’s try again. Where are the rebels?”

 “You wish I knew,” Kallus said with a mocking laugh. “Why do you think I’m a rebel?”

 “You defected from the Empire, why else would yo- oh don’t tell me you left for that brat of yours?” Briggs asked.

 “You will never get an answer that satisfies you,” Kallus laughed. He didn’t know why it was all so funny, but it was pissing Briggs off and that alone was fairly amusing.

 “It seems the years have not dulled your training,” Briggs curiously said as the droid injected him with more serum. “Everyone though has a breaking point, even you ISB agents.”

 “Keep telling yourself that, I’m sure eventually you’ll believe it,” Kallus said, the only thing keeping him upright the table he was strapped too.

 “No one can completely resist truth serum,” Briggs said, “Even ISB agents. It’s only a matter of time.”

 “In case you forgot, I was top of my class,” Kallus informed him. Focus on the truths he could tell, that was the key. Don’t think about the things he couldn’t say.

 “I’m curious about the fate of your son Dev,” Briggs said. He was trying to throw him off balance, get him to start talking until he couldn’t stop. It wouldn’t work, he refused to let it work. He wouldn’t let the Empire touch Dev. “Did you leave him on Lothal? Abandoned him like his parents?” He was trying to rile him up, get him angry. He’d used that tactic before, he would not fall for it. “I wonder how Dev felt, being abandoned by his father for the second time.”

 “No,” Kallus growled through clenched teeth. The words hit far too close to home. How did Dev feel? Alone in that cave, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back? No, focus, do not give in. <em> I’m so sorry Dev. Please forgive me. <em/>

 “Where is the boy?” Briggs demanded.

 “Nowhere you will ever find,” Kallus growled. Truth…if he actually got off of the planet by now…no he had to. Hera, Kanan and Zeb would come, they swore they would come if he ever needed them, he’d never needed them more then now.

 “Shame,” Briggs sighed. “I thought you’d want to say goodbye to him.”

 “You won’t get your hands on him,” Kallus said. If they got to Dev in time, he would completely disappear and the Empire would never hurt him.

 “We will,” A new voice said, Briggs whipping around to glare at the person joining them. From the uniform Kallus could see that he was ISB. “Kallus, I don’t believe we had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Agent Favvin” Kallus tried to recall who exactly Favvin was, but found himself drawing up a blank. Either he was completely unmemorable or he started in ISB after Kallus left. He briefly considered asking, but instead found himself saying,

��“I’d hardly call it a pleasure.” It was probably was better he didn’t ask, he doubted he would actually answer.

 “Perhaps not for you,” Agent Favvin agreed. “No amount of truth serum will work on him, all ISB agents where trained to resist them in the event of capture.”

 “So how do we break him?” Briggs demanded.

 “Pain,” Agent Favvin said, pressing the button to activate the electrocution, a scream of agony escaping his lips, despite trying to contain it with every fiber of his being. “Now, where are the rebels?”

 “You’ll only get angrier…” Kallus gasped as the electrocution momentarily stopped. “You’ll never find out.” So they truly thought he was a rebel? Good, he could spend his final moments tormenting the Empire one last time as they tried in vain to get the information they so desperately sought. How long it would take them to realize he knew nothing, Kallus wasn’t sure, but he was certain they wouldn’t stop for a long time afterwards as punishment for abandoning the Empire.

 “I was hoping you’d say that,” Favvin said as the electrocution started again, a scream of agony ripping through him once more. Kallus desperately clung onto the image of Dev beaming up at him, a reminder that it was all worth it. “It will be a pleasure to break you.”

[bedlamsbard]

Werewolf/shapeshifter AU! This one is set during Vision of Hope, same as the previous ficbit, since several people asked for more werewolf AU last week.

ETA: All scenes (not in order):  Ezra 1, Zeb 1, Hera 1, Sabine 1, Ezra 2, Ezra 3, Sabine 2 and Hera 2, Kanan 1, Ezra 4.

About 1600 words below the break.

“He tried to get us to surrender, he wasn’t tired when he stopped, he was waiting for Kallus to catch up,” Hera explained, her face a grim mask of determination as Ezra stared down at Senator Trayvis’s body in dismay.  “And he wanted our secrets.”

They both looked up at the sudden sound of approaching footsteps, but it turned out to be Zeb, Sabine, and the hellbeast, who took the long leap down in a fluid motion as Zeb and Sabine followed less gracefully.

“What happened to the senator?” Zeb exclaimed.

“He was working for the Empire,” Hera said.

“Ugh, is there anybody on our side?” Sabine said.  She nudged Trayvis’s shoulder with the tip of one boot as the hellbeast sniffed at him, then trotted up to Ezra and Hera to check on them both.

Under cover of the sound of the massive fan, Ezra caught a handful of his ruff and breathed in the hellbeast’s familiar, reassuring scent.  He wanted to transform himself; wanted to shift and make himself smaller and less human and not as complicated.  Things didn’t really simplify out when he was in his shifted form, but somehow they felt simpler.  Humans had to worry about traitors and traps and the Empire’s plans; hellbeasts didn’t.

The hellbeast nuzzled him back reassuringly, then took Ezra’s shoulder gently in his mouth with just enough pressure for it to be soothing instead of threatening.  A few months ago that might have freaked him out, but now Ezra saw it as the gesture of comfort that it was meant to be and muttered, “Thanks.”

“So what’s the plan?” Zeb demanded.

“We were going to stop the fan to get through,” Hera said.

“Okay, but what will keep our friends from following?” Sabine asked, glancing up towards the pipes; Ezra could hear the familiar tread of stormtrooper bootsteps pounding towards them, though he didn’t think a regular human would be able to over the sound of the fan.  Carried along with it was the smell of blaster oil, human sweat, and the distinctive odor Ezra had learned to associate with Zeb’s bo-rifle and by extension with the one that Agent Kallus carried.

Ezra smelled the shift before he saw it, the not-unpleasant scent of the hellbeast suddenly muted as a half-familiar voice said, “We only stop the fan long enough for us to get through.”

Ezra spun around, staring, and saw a tall human man standing where the hellbeast had been a moment earlier, close enough to Ezra to touch.  As a smile spread over Hera’s face, Kanan gave Ezra an uncomfortable look and turned towards the fan, studying it with narrowed eyes.

Sabine’s expression was badly startled, but she still said gamely, “I don’t think biting it is going to work.”

“Not with those teeth, that’s for sure,” Zeb muttered.

Ezra saw amusement flicker across Kanan’s face, but he didn’t respond, just raised one hand. “Cover me.”

“What are you going to do?” Hera asked, drawing her blaster.

“Stop the fan.”

Belatedly Ezra retrieved his own blaster from the floor where he had dropped it earlier, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Kanan even when stormtroopers appeared in the entrance to the pipes.  He could feel – something.  He wasn’t sure what it was, wasn’t sure that there was a word for it in Basic.  Well, maybe there was, but Ezra couldn’t think of anything to call it except for power.

The fan hesitated, just for an instant.

Kanan screwed his face up in concentration, his unraised hand fisting as he took half a step forward, as if bracing himself against an invisible force.  Ezra saw the fan slow, its spinning blades suddenly visible as discrete forms rather than blurs.

“Impossible,” Sabine whispered beside him, briefly distracted.

Blasterfire broke them both out of their reverie as bolts struck the metal floor by their feet. Sabine fired back, Ezra following suit a moment later; Hera and Zeb were already shooting.

Agent Kallus, standing behind the troopers with his bo-rifle in his hand, was watching Kanan with wide eyes behind his helmet.  They narrowed suddenly as he spoke, Ezra’s sensitive ears picking up the words even over the blasterfire.

“Focus your fire,” he said, “on the Jedi.”

As Kanan clenched his fist, the fan slowed to a grinding halt, the sudden cessation of sound shocking in the still air.  Hera glanced over her shoulder at him at him, then yelled, “Move it, rebels!”   She fired twice to back up the words, sending a stormtrooper falling over the lip of the pipe with a muted thud and slagging the wall next to Kallus’s head as the ISB agent jerked back.

Sabine and Zeb darted through the space between the fan’s shuddering blades, Hera grabbing Ezra’s collar as he hesitated to thrust him after them before she followed.  Kanan came last, shifting in the same motion and hitting the floor with all four paws.  He whisked his tail nimbly out of the way as the fan started again, rolling his shoulders back as though he had never been human, what human?

Ezra shifted on impulse, settling into the familiar outlines of his other form.  Colors became muted to little more than grayscale, but his sense of smell and his hearing suddenly got a lot better, the roar of the fan making him wince.  Through the blurring rush of the fan he saw Senator Trayvis pushing to his feet, pressing a hand to his face where Hera had struck him.

Ezra growled, the sound reverberating along the metal floor, and saw Trayvis look up.  His eyes widened as he saw Ezra, though Ezra doubted that he recognized him.

He was still growling when Kanan came up behind him and swatted him with one massive paw – not hard enough to hurt, but enough to break Ezra out of his furious reverie.  He looked back, abashed, and Kanan bared his teeth, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere until Ezra did.

With one last growl, Ezra turned away from Trayvis and Kallus and loped off down the pipe to join Hera and the others.  Kanan followed after him, his passage nearly silent despite his size.

*

He stayed in his shifted form all the way back to the Ghost. So did Kanan, but there wasn’t anything weird about that.

Once they were clear of Capital City’s airspace and had landed in the plains, far away from everything, Ezra went outside and flopped down at the foot of the ramp.  He couldn’t bear the idea of ever shifting back to human, of having to live in a universe where his parents were dead and a lying traitor like Gall Trayvis was still alive and go on with his life like nothing had changed.  He just wanted to lay here and forget ever having been anything else.  It had worked for Kanan; Ezra didn’t see a problem with doing it himself.

He had been wallowing in his misery for only a few minutes when he caught the hellbeast’s scent.  Ezra glanced up long enough to see him pacing down the ramp, pausing a few feet up to look down at Ezra before he continued down nearly to the ground.  Then he shifted.

Kanan sat down on the foot of the ramp, stretching out his long legs, and turned his attention to Ezra. His meaning was obvious.

Ezra groaned and pressed his nose into the ground, flinging a paw over his eyes, because he wanted to do this, but he didn’t want to do it now. If he didn’t shift back, though, he wouldn’t be able to tell Kanan as much.

That, and if Kanan’s previous behavior was any indication, if he didn’t do it now there was a good chance Kanan would stay in his shifted form for the foreseeable future.

Ezra groaned and shifted without bothering to sit up, which meant that he abruptly found himself lying in the dirt.  It was a lot less pleasant in human form than it was in his shifted form and he pushed himself upright, grimacing.  He dropped to a seat on the ramp beside Kanan and the two of them just looked at each other.

“Hera told me what happened with Senator Trayvis,” Kanan offered after a few moments of silence.

Ezra looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kanan ducked his head in acknowledgment.  They sat in silence a while longer, long enough that Ezra was seriously considering shifting and going off to lie in the grasslands until he couldn’t feel feelings anymore.  Then he remembered something.

“Agent Kallus called you a Jedi,” he said. “I thought the Empire killed all the Jedi.”

This time it was Kanan who looked away.  “Not all of us.”

“Can you all – I mean –” Ezra stumbled over the words.  “Are all Jedi like you?”

Kanan licked his lips. “Shifting is a physical manifestation of the Force.”

“What’s the Force?”

“The Force is everywhere. It surrounds and penetrates us, binds the galaxy together.  And it’s strong with you, Ezra.  You wouldn’t be able to shift if it wasn’t.”

Ezra blinked.  “I’m…a Jedi?”

“No,” Kanan said, “but you have the potential to become one.”  He pushed a hand back through his hair, stopping as his fingers bumped the tie on his ponytail.  “If you want.”

“If I say no are you going to go all fuzzy again and stay that way?” Ezra asked, which was the first thing to come to mind.

Kanan’s eyebrows drew upwards. “Not because of that.”

Ezra stared at him. “Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”

He looked aside, then confessed, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid?  Afraid of what?  Of me?”

“Of myself.”  Kanan stood up suddenly, making Ezra crane his neck back.  Even in human form Kanan towered over him.  “Think about it,” he said.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Then he shifted and went trotting back into the Ghost, soft-footed on the durasteel deck with his claws sheathed.

Ezra ran a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted.  His life had been a lot simpler this morning.

[courtingcourtiers]

some self indulgent thrawn/self-insert stuff bc i have no self control whatsoever

-

“Tell me, do you know how to dance the Imperial waltz?” Thrawn asks, already slipping a disc into the reader.

Wizard shrugs helplessly, “I’ve watched people do it enough. Why?”

Thrawn hums listlessly and turns. He reaches to grip their hands in his. “Lothal is hosting a ball at Governor Pryce’s request. We’d be rude if you didn’t attend.”

“You want to see if those Rebels will appear, don’t you?” Wizard asks. They let Thrawn adjust them into the proper position.

“Maybe,” Thrawn doesn’t outright agree. “Now, watch me. Step forward like this when I step back.”

It’s practically a demand and Wizard obeys. They look down at Thrawn’s careful footwork. It’s not hbard, but Wizard has never been a great dancer. They just barely avoid stepping on Thrawn’s foot. “You sure you don’t want someone who can actually don’t want someone who can actually dance to come with?”

“I’m sure that Agent Kallus will already be in attendance,” Thrawn says. “Besides, he’s not a known Rebel associate.”

“They were jobs. I did what I had to do,” Wizard says in their own defense.

Thrawn nods, seemingly understanding, “And I under that, as much as I wouldn’t prefer it. However, you need to be about to show… loyalty. To the Empire.”

Even someone as dense as Wizard can read the subtext. Or they think they can, at the very least. Wizard grins up at Thrawn though he can’t see it. “Ah, so you want me around. Is that what I’m hearing?”

Thrawn lifts an arm and spins them around without any warning, “Maybe.”

Wizard can’t see it, but they hope that they aren’t imagining the smile that they hear in his voice.