Archive of Our Own ^beta

Everything was a blur after Kanen died. The world was coated with a thick haze of uncertainty. It was heavy, like the air carried a weight to it. The universe had fallen off its axis. It was unbalanced. Missing a piece of itself. At least, that was how Zeb felt. Everyone and everything seemed far away and too close at the same time. Somehow he felt both frighteningly alone and completely surrounded. 

He couldn’t attest to how the others were coping. In fact, he found himself struggling to truly mourn alongside them, too caught up in his own inner turmoil. He’d carry guilt over that in the weeks to come, realizing too late he’d been in his own head during most of that time. The remaining specters would insist he’d been very supportive, very attentive. He doesn’t remember it that way. He felt like he was drowning in rage and regret. The loss was so sharp . So visceral. But still so unreal. He kept waiting for the big twist. For it to not be true. 

The urgent situation on Lothal would do well to distract him, and at first he thanked Ashla for that. It seemed like any time he stopped to reflect, he’d look down to find his hands quaking and his fur on end. There was little time to think on that though. Their resolve to complete the mission, to make Kanen’s death mean something, drove them forward. 

And then, the other shoe dropped. He could sense it coming. He thought they all did, really. But perhaps not how they expected. He didn’t think it would be Ezra they’d lose next. 

Ezra, the liberator of Lothal. 

Ezra, padawan to Kanan Jarrus.

Ezra, the boy lost somewhere out there in the stars. 

And maybe that was the most rattling thing. There was always risk, being in the Rebel Alliance. Danger came with the job. They all knew this. They knew. But Zeb always thought… that it would be him.  

If anyone would go, it would be him. 

Zeb was the first to barrel into a fight. He was the specter who often doubled as a shield, being able to take more damage than his human companions. He was a former honor-guard, and had plenty of years of combat experience under his belt. He was one of the last Lasat, a race on the brink of extinction. He’d lived plenty long. Him. 

Not the kid, who’d spent his short lifetime tirelessly working to see Lothal freed, only to not be there to celebrate it. Who still had so much life to live, and should be living it alongside his found family. 

And not Kanen, one of the last Jedi. Zeb’s best friend. Hera’s other half. 

Zeb worried over her in the days that followed. She sometimes accepted the comfort offered from the other spectors; she sometimes distanced herself. He would watch her in those moments. Her usually sharp eyes would gloss over. Her smart mouth would fall slack. Her whole body would still. Like the wind around her ceased, and plucked her very soul straight out of this world. 

His sadness was overwhelming. Hera’s was unbearable. 

On Lothal… He couldn’t seem to remember those days with much clarity. He couldn’t recall what he did, if he was at all of use. It was almost like he heard the events second hand. Like they weren’t his own experiences. All he could remember was the singular thought that once it hit his brain, it wouldn’t leave:

Kallus.

He recognized how selfish that was. He did. But the harder they struggled and the more loss that piled up around him, the more the ex-Imperial filled his thoughts. 

He supposed that was only partially true though. Kallus had been steadily taking up more and more space in Zeb’s brain for some time. He doesn’t know when exactly his feelings for the former ISB-agent became romantic, but it didn’t matter. Once he’d realized, once he acknowledged his attraction, his longing , he’d immediately resolved never to act on the desire. He had a laundry list of reasons, but to summarize: 

• Their abominable history. They were enemies once. Not just Empire vs Rebels. Not even Kallus vs the Specters. Kallus vs Zeb. Kallus chased them. Hunted them. Challenged Zeb with an honor-guard bo-rifle. The man participated in the annihilation of the people of Lasan. It was so much to unpack. Zeb was glad he played an integral part in Kallus’s defection to the rebellion. And he meant it when he said Kallus had changed. He was a different man. But in truth, Zeb felt overwhelmingly guilty for his feelings toward Kallus. Like it was a direct betrayal to his people. 
• Kallus’s PTSD. He still hid his scars from when Thrawn tortured him, obscured beneath that jacket and those gloves. He rarely spoke about his time as Fulcrum, unless asked to by a superior. His eyes would go still, like he was drawing out the information from a folder, stashed away in the back of his mind. He’d extract it slowly and carefully, as to not mistakenly let anything unwanted fall out and reveal itself. The stress he must have experienced in those months…. Kallus wouldn’t talk about it, but the trauma was there. 
• Kallus’s baggage. His loads and loads of baggage. Zeb divided it into two piles. The first being his guilt. Guilt for his actions while serving the Empire. Guilt over the man he once was. Perhaps even guilt for defecting. That conditioning was hard to shake. The second pile was his struggle to integrate into the Alliance, his continued battle to assimilate. It was a constant point of stress for him. Always feeling like he’d forever be an outsider. Which made Zeb’s friendship so very important to him. Vital. It was too precious of a thing to risk with ideas of romance. 
• And of course: The war. They were at war. There was no time for this courting, dating, lovey bullshit. Hera and Kanen… They loved each other, truely. But it was difficult. Something constantly left on the back burner. It was a struggle. 

All these things brought Zeb to the conclusion that he wouldn’t pursue Kallus. Couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

And then… 

Zeb watched Hera as she stared off into nothingness. He watched her as she gripped her Kalikori, fingers delicately ghosting over the little piece that represented Kanen. He watched her as she clutched her stomach. Clutched her heart. 

Kanen was gone. 

Gone .

Some short time ago, he had a mountain of excuses as to why not to tell Kallus his feelings. Bad blood. Bad timing. He told himself that his reasons were all valid. They were. 

But they were also bullshit.

Because what about the day those reasons didn’t matter anymore? What about the day one of them was gone ? 

Zeb didn’t want that. 

It took days to settle in his mind, but once it did, Zeb was racing through the base before he even had any beginnings of a plan. He hadn’t realized how late it was in the evening until he finally located the man. Kallus was alone in a secluded document storage room, sorting through some flimsi for a piece of information. Hunched over a desk far too small for him, typing into his datapad. He looked up with a start when Zeb burst through the door.

Zeb was short of breath. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been running. Concern quickly befell Kallus’s face and the man abruptly stood, abandoning his work and hastily making his way toward the door.

“Zeb?” he asked as he approached, “Is something wrong?” His eyes did a once over of Zeb’s entire person, scanning for anything that would be physically obvious. When he found no answers there, he instead looked for them in Zeb’s face. Those shapely brows furrowed and his lips parted, waiting impatiently for an explanation. 

Of course, Zeb realized only then he was not prepared for this. Feeling light headed and overwhelmed, he reached out, grabbing onto the shelf directly behind Kallus to alleviate his weight. The man recoiled as Zeb entered his space, stepping back until his heels hit the shelf. He didn’t move from there though. 

Zeb bowed his head under the guise of catching his breath. But really he was trying to find words. Where to start, where to start… 

Kallus was fidgeting though, and eventually attempted to prompt him again,

“Zeb?”

...

Zeb sighed. He couldn’t meet his eyes quite yet, so he focused on Kallus’s shoes instead. He had no idea how the man kept them so clean.

“The thing is…. “ he started. “There were so many things that… that I shoulda told Ezra.” Kallus’s shuffling stopped at that. He stood still as stone. “So many things that I shoulda told Kanen.” 

Zeb swallowed thickly. His throat suddenly became tight and there was a stinging at the corner of his eyes. “I, umm…”, he shook his head. It was like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth, completely unable to form the words running through his brain quickly enough to create coherent sentences. “Hera ‘n Kanen, they… There’s so much that they didn’t… Karabast ….” He reached his other hand to his nose, pressing two fingers hard into his eyes to push away the moisture there. 

He paused and took a deep breath, schooling himself. 

“There’s so many things I wished I’d of said to him. And now I’ll never get to. Which is why I need  to be clear ‘n honest with you. I’m no good with words but… I have to try because I don’t want the day to come where I won’t have the opportunity anymore. And whatever the outcome, it-it doesn’t matter. Whatever yer response is, it’s okay. I just need to tell ya…”

There was a pause, then in his peripheral vision, he saw Kallus nod softly. Zeb found he still couldn’t look up, look into his face. If he did, the nearness of him… Zeb was so close he could smell the soap that lingered on his skin, could hear every small shuffle of his clothes, could feel his breathing, ever so slightly.

It was his own fault. He was the one that stormed in and invaded Kallus’s personal space. Zeb has always been too impulsive. It was what it was though. He might not be able to spin poetry or meet Kallus’s eye, but he was going to do this. He was going to get these thoughts out of his system, out in the open. He needed to. It didn’t matter if Kallus reciprocated. It didn’t. Zeb just couldn’t have any more regrets. So... 

“I think about you all the time.” he said, low and even. “ Constantly .”

Kallus inhaled sharply, but Zeb pressed on.

“And I know that it’s not… With everything that’s happened between us… And the war. But Kal, you… whenever you’re around I’m excited and nervous at the same time. But I want you around. I want to be around you as much as I can, I … I would keep you around, if I… I want to know everything about you, every last detail. And I want to tell you everything about me, I want you to know me. I want you to be the only person that knows me like that, I…”

“Garazeb.” 

Kallus said it so low and so soft it was a wonder Zeb heard him, but it did in fact halt his babbling tongue. A weight - Kallus’s hand - was suddenly on the crook of his elbow, bending his arm, and by default, pulling him toward Kallus. In the same motion the man’s other hand laced through the patch of fur just below Zeb’s ear. Though the contact drew his head up, Kallus didn’t let him get far, drawing him back down again. 

He didn’t hesitate, though Zeb felt him shutter just before he deftly and gingerly slid their lips together. Kallus was a tall man by human standards, but he still had to lift his toes to reach the Lasat, pulling his body in closer.

It wasn’t close enough though. Not for Zeb. He wrapped an arm firmly around Kallus’s torso, bracing on his back, before pressing him into the shelf. A small, startled grunt escaped Kallus, but he was not dissuaded. Instead, he melted into the contact, his touch no longer gentle. Kallus kissed him with fervor, the fingers on Zeb’s biceps and at his ear becoming exploratory, raking into his fur. The touch was positively electric. 

The room was quiet, save for the humming of the vent and the echoing sound of their lips disconnecting and reconnecting. Kallus would occasionally breath in deep. Like Zeb had stolen the air from his lungs. The thought made his body burn and his head light.

But eventually Kallus lowered his head, though he did not move away, still holding Zeb tightly. He paused a moment, then spoke softly, quietly.

“I am safe to assume you have feelings for me?” he asked. A small laugh escaped Zeb, his ears pressing low to his head in his embarrassment. 

“That’s the jist of it.”

Kallus nodded, perhaps more to himself. Another pause. He was chewing on something. Zeb’s heart was thundering in his chest. Had he properly conveyed himself? He wanted verbal affirmation from Kallus. But he couldn’t bring himself to request it, as there were no words on his tongue. The muscle was completely inert at this point, too exhausted from his confession. 

Blood rushed through his veins, excited and frightened. Everything felt too loud and too quiet at the same time. Heightened. It was overwhelming. He waited on the edge of his seat for Kallus to speak, but whatever it was he had to say, Zeb was still relieved. It didn’t matter. He would never have to worry about regretting not telling him.

He wouldn’t be caught staring into the void, cursing the universe for the things he never said.

And the weight lifted off his shoulders from that… It was enough to make him confident that no matter what Kallus’s response, he’d maintain this friendship. He could. Everything would be okay. If he- 

“I should confess that-” Kallus startled him. The man licked his lips, inhaling deeply before continuing, “I was scared.” He said finally, “Scared to take action. It seems foolish now. We’re here risking our lives for the rebellion, death could be but a moment away, yet I’ve been terrified to... “ Kallus swallowed thickly, a small laugh escaping him. His cheeks flushed, the blush reaching all the way to his ears. He quickly turned his head to Zeb’s arm, masking his face from view.

“I want to know you,” he said, low and muffled into the fur, “I want to know you like no one else. I don’t want to waste anymore time.” 

….

And so they didn’t.

They were in the middle of a war, yes. Zeb was often off-world more than not, while Kallus was buried elbow deep in intelligence work. But every spare moment they had was for each other. The instant Zeb stepped off the Ghost he was off to find Kallus. And they set up a private comm, for the nights they were galaxies apart.

Zeb pressed Kallus to talk about his baggage. To try and sort it out. Even his time as Fulcrum. It was precarious and painful. Kallus said that it helped. Though, sometimes it didn’t. And sometimes he needed to talk to someone other than Zeb. And he did. And Zeb was happy, because Kal seemed to be better for it. 

Zeb also realized he was projecting. That he had his own baggage to unload. Ezra, Kanen, Lasan… 

It was a work in progress.

And then there was Lasan, which some days felt far from his mind, and others like it was just yesterday. Eventually, he contacted Chava on Lira San. Eventually, he told her about Kal. Told about their history. His guilt.

She listened. She smiled .

“After the war,” she said. “Bring him home.”