Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stormtroopers gathered in the hundreds, their orderly groups waiting for the ship to arrive. Nowadays, with the Rebellion growing every day, it was uncommon for a mission to prove to be successful. Much less to exceed expectations. 

Kallus stood with the other officers at the hangar. News of a captured rebel was cause for stress for him. Not only would he have to report back to the Rebellion so they could extract their rebel, but he would also have to help with that rescue.

He already felt exhaustion seep deep into his bones.

The ship landed the rows of stormtroopers gathered to help with the prisoner transfer. The wave of white armor blocked his vision. He wondered what idiot let themself get captured. Was it somebody he was familiar with or a stranger?

Within the mob of Imperial armor, a flash of purple fur caught his eye, his stomach dropped. 

No, no, no, no.  

Garazeb Orrelios was the stupid rebel to get caught? His brain racked with all the anger, guilt, and something indescribable. It took all the training Kallus had to keep himself impassive, no matter how much his thoughts raced.

He didn't know his current stance with the Lasat and their experience on the ice moon would like to believe they were, at least, on friendly terms. The experience with Garazeb changed him for the better, but that wouldn't excuse any of the actions the ISB agent made. He told him as much after they had snuck off during a scuffle between the warring factions.

He told Garazeb–no Zeb– how he began to notice how cold the Empire was. With that frigid feeling choking him, the agent sought out the truth and what he had discovered disgusted him. He was nothing more than a cog in a nightmarish machine. 

Kallus had nearly grovelled on the floor in shame, voice shaking as he tried to utter the sickening information to the other man. Kallus wasn't exactly sure if he had cried, not that it mattered. 

"So you've found out the truth. What are you going to do about it then, Kallus?" 

Kallus’ vision was filled with purple as a four-fingered hand presented itself as a path towards a better future. Kallus didn't take his hand, for some unknown reason the agent hesitated. The sound of thundering boots rapidly approached the pair, a flurry of emotions morphed Zeb's face before settling with a dejected look. Zeb departed, leaving Kallus behind to wallow in his messy emotions.

Not long after their encounter, Kallus had been contacted by an unidentified person giving him another opportunity to join the Rebellion. Zeb's marvelous words echoed in his mind as he agreed to become Fulcrum. 

From then on as he tirelessly worked to dismantle the Empire from the inside, Kallus sometimes found himself wondering if Zeb knew what effect he had on the agent. Or if Zeb even spared Kallus a second thought at all. Strange feelings bubbled in his stomach as he pondered how Zeb would react to Kallus becoming Fulcrum because of hi–

A deep roar snapped Kallus out of his thoughts; Zeb had attacked the leading commander during the transfer. An impressive feat, but he supposed that a prisoner as powerful as Zeb wouldn't have any trouble even with the binders. A brawl ensued with the stormtroopers, who attempted to overwhelm the Lasat with their numbers. 

The agent didn't bother barking any orders at the soldiers. It was not his fault that they forgot that they had blasters in the heat of the moment and thought they could go one-on-one against the mighty rebel. They might have thought that Zeb was at a disadvantage because of the binders, but Kallus knew better. And he wasn't going to be the one to tell them. 

He itched to join the fight and help Zeb escape. It would blow his cover, but it was a risk he was willing to take. 

He would risk everything to keep Zeb out of the Empire's grasp.

Watching the exchange from afar, he took a step forward before hearing Konstantine sigh in exasperation next to him, "Shoot it, you fools!" 

"Stun the rebel!" Kallus found himself shouting in a panic, "We still need him alive for interrogating!"

He couldn't watch Zeb struck down by a blaster shot; the notion made him sick to his stomach. Not that having him be stunned was any better to observe. Kallus swallowed a lump in his throat as a portion of the troopers began to shoot at the Lasat. Zeb's body seized as multiple waves of electricity hit him.

He felt like vomiting.

Grand Admiral Thrawn ordered the stormtroopers to take the rebel to an interrogation room. The ISB agent started to follow the soldiers when the Chiss stopped him in his tracks. 

"Agent Kallus."

"Sir?"

"No need to worry about interrogating the prisoner yourself. I will handle it from here."

"But sir, I'm–"

"Any issues with my decision, Agent?"

Yes.

"No, sir."

With clenched fists, Kallus observed as Thrawn marched alongside the stormtroopers. To an outsider it would seem that Kallus was upset to not be the one to end the Lasat; his reputation ruined by his superior looking for glory. 

If only…

If only that was the reason why.

The Fulcrum's thoughts raced, Does Thrawn suspect me as the traitor? Why else would Thrawn toss the ISB agent aside?

Was his cover already blown?

… 

Kallus glanced over at the clock on the wall. He swore time was stopping every time he looked away. Kallus had continued with his normal schedule, however fruitless he found the endeavor. What's the point of working on these idiotic reports if Thrawn believes me to be the spy? Kallus took a deep breath and flexed his sore hand, "No need to prove the Grand Admiral right."

ISB-021 is not a rebel spy. Just keep working. Zeb will be fine. Just one more hour and you can contact the Rebellion. He won't die. He won't die. He won't–

Kallus slammed his hand onto his desk and rose to his feet. Trying to distract himself with writing reports wasn’t sufficient, his thoughts still wandered to Zeb. He rubbed his strained eyes free of the chains of exhaustion and took a deep breath through his nose. 

Kallus weighed his options, Either finish these last few reports or…  

The door swished open. 

Kallus strode in the direction of the dormitories, the hum of machinery ominously filling the halls. Minutes passed and the absence of other living beings allowed the agent to let his guard down, if only for a few seconds (a mistake he would never do again). Suddenly the quiet corridor was filled with muffled screams, Kallus fought the urge to tear his ears off. How he wished the Empire could invest in thicker walls within their Star Destroyers. Instead, Kallus grit his teeth and let his fingernails dig into his palms.

The screams faded as he drew closer to the dormitories.

Once he entered his quarters, he collapsed onto the bed. Kallus buried his face in his hands; he was a dead man walking. His body pulsed alongside his heartbeat, previous events overwhelming him.

Everything was out of his control. Out of reach. He was useless. What was the point of becoming Fulcrum if he couldn't do anything to help. 

Kallus gasped for breath as anxiety flooded his veins. He swayed as he sat up and blindly reached for the soothing warmth. He grabbed the meteorite, its dim, golden glow relaxing his spiraling thoughts. 

Focus!

He opened his comlink, reporting the incident was the proper course of action to take. Have the rebels save their man and shifting the blame to another officer was the safest strategy. The static filled his brain as Kallus adjusted the frequency. 

Would they make it to Zeb on time? 

The sudden doubt punched him in the gut. He turned off the comlink and practically launched out of bed, the meteorite despite its waning heat burned his hands. He threw the rock on his bed, leaving the dorm with the haunting image of purple fur stained with crimson.

Everything was a blur afterwards, his brain took a few minutes to catch up with his body. Kallus found himself marching toward the medical facility. What was he thinking? Risking his cover for Garazeb Orrelios. It was idiotic; he had repaid his debt to the rebel, helping Wren and the rookie pilots escape the clutches of the Empire.

A self-deprecating hiss left his lips. Who was he trying to fool? Surely not himself? Kallus knew he could never be "even" with Zeb, the honorable man who pushed him into seeing the truth. Zeb, who had the kindest eyes the agent had ever seen. 

Heat rose to his cheeks and Kallus almost tripped over the mental image that intruded his mind. After a few seconds of holding his breath to steady his rapid heartbeat, Kallus hung his head letting out a harsh breath, I can't afford to be distracted right now. 

With a huff, Kallus continued his trek to the medical center. The medical droid activated once he entered the room. He rushed past the friendly, "How may I be of service," and headed towards the back room. 

The med-droid fixed her gaze at the distressed ISB agent stealing most of the medical supplies. Medkits toppling dangerously in his arms, she counted fifteen packs, before one-by-one they unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

Hurriedly Kallus picked up the mess, mulling over how he would smuggle the medical supplies out of the station. He could try to hide the products in his uniform, but as he shoved a few packs in his suit the realization hit him like a rancor.

Any more than three packs and anyone with eyes would know he was hiding something in his suit. It won't be enough. He didn't know how injured Zeb would be by the time he came to help him. Three of these medpacs might not be enough.

"It's fine," Kallus buried a hand into his hair, "It's fine." 

It was definitely not fine.

"There has to be a way to get more without bringing any suspicion to myself," he racked his brain trying to strategically stuff the medpacs into the ISB uniform. "You owe it to Garazeb, you idiot."

Shaky murmurs of how he would get the first aid out without any suspicions hit the medical droid's sensors. As well as the name Garazeb. She saw Kallus' shoulders slump as he reluctantly returned all the kits except for three. Garazeb. Searching through her database, she confirmed that wasn't anybody's name on the Star Destroyer.

She remembered the armored ones gloating about a captured rebel as she was treating their injuries. They had boasted of their savage victory. She might have been a bit rough while treating them afterwards. With the roars of laughter still ringing through her circuits, the droid grabbed an empty messenger bag that was left behind. The droid walked to the agent and gave a small whir to get his attention. He startled and threw his fist forward. A dull thunk echoed through the room the medical droid examined the situation. For future reference: alerting a human from a farther distance would be preferable, it will lead to fewer injuries.

She handed him the bag. 

"For you." 

He gaped at the gift. His lips quivered, "Thank you." Kallus turned back to the packs and began stuffing as many as he could into the bag. Was it overboard? Maybe, but he could never be too cautious.

Kallus bid the medical droid farewell, leaving the medbay feeling a little lighter than he had all cycle. The minor throbbing from having punched metal helped Kallus concentrate on his mission. What's a little pain to save someone who deserves the entire galaxy? 

… 

After mulling over the mishmash of ideas he had, Kallus made his way to the hangar. Escape pods weren't big enough for both of them. He knew from experience. Taking one should be their last resort. TIE fighters while quick were, again, too much a tight fit. 

Kallus adjusted the bag, thankfully no one had questioned him yet about the new accessory. Kallus opted for a Lambda -class T-4a shuttle. An easy choice, the ship was able to be piloted by one person and was pretty well-armed. He walked to the nearest one and pretended to examine its condition. Kallus never claimed to be an expert on ships, but he hoped his inexperience didn't show.

"You there!" He shouted to a nearby stormtrooper, the soldier looked around before pointing to themselves. Kallus pinched the bridge of his nose and exasperatedly sighed. "Yes, you." 

The trooper jogged up to Kallus as he scribbled down a report, "Take this to the mechanics. This ship is damaged and should be fixed immediately." They saluted and scurried away.

Kallus stood watching them merge into a crowd of white. He ultimately lost sight of the soldier when a ship landed and blocked his vision. Kallus diverted his attention to the TIE fighters and other shuttles leaving and entering the hangar. Imperial pilots were trained to prepare and start up their ships in a matter of seconds.

Kallus held back a smirk, with so many ships in need of repairs the report on the Lambda -class wouldn't be discovered as false until Kallus shot out of the Star Destroyer with Zeb in tow. The report would give him enough time to jump into hyperspace before a dogfight could commence. 

A clean getaway.

The agent rubbed his fingers against the bag's strap. This should work. He turned and marched out of the hangar. I've planned for as many possibilities as I could.

He once again passed the hall that held Zeb. The silence was deafening and a queasiness emerged from the pit of his stomach. Although he had wished for the screams to stop, Kallus wouldn't have expected for the quietness to be worse. 

Kallus fled from the area, the warmth he once welcomed set him ablaze. Bile rose to his throat, he swallowed down the burning sensation, and tears pricked his eyes. Stumbling into his dorm, Kallus heard his rapid breaths bouncing off the walls of the room. The door hissed closed and his knees gave out. 

Kallus slid against the door, taking measured breaths to calm himself. He ran his fingers through his well-kept hair. There wasn't much else he could do in his current state.

All he could manage to do was wait.

… 

"Where is the rebel base located?"

Cold fingers seized his face; Zeb shuddered as they dug into a gash on his cheek. The steely voice repeated the question once again. Thrawn's crimson eyes bore into him as they waited for an answer. 

Unfortunately, "Kriff you," wasn't what Thrawn was looking for.

A sharp pain bloomed as the fingers reinforced their grip on his face. They steadily scraped and tore at the skin. Zeb glowered at Thrawn, uncaring of the affliction as he uttered a snarl.

Zeb's defiance was met with the same, unchanging, stern expression before his back violently arched as electricity once again ran through him. A copper taste filled his mouth as his teeth clenched through the surge of energy. After what felt like an eternity, the hum of the machine stopped. Leaving Zeb's body twitching with what remained of the electrical currents. 

Thrawn watched the rebel spasm and frowned. It had been almost a full rotation and the rebel had spilled nothing of use. Perhaps a different approach would produce results. "Not long ago I had heard that Lasats were rather sturdy. I have to admit I didn't believe it at first." 

"G-good to know I leave a good impression," gurgled Zeb.

Thrawn hummed as he released Zeb from the device. The Lasat's knees crumbled underneath him–weak from the hours of abuse–the sudden drop elicited a small gasp from him as every ache made itself known.

The Chiss motioned to the guards in the room, who jogged over to forcibly lift their prisoner to his feet. Even with the help, Zeb felt like a kit trying to take their first steps. His vision swam as he tried to balance himself. He barely heard Thrawn speak once again.

"Now that I know that it's true, I want to test how long it will take for you to break."

Before Zeb could dwell on the threat, a sharp kick released him from the guards' clutches. Its strength nearly knocked him to the ground. He opened his eyes to see a fist come towards his face. 

The punch connected and the room spun for a few seconds. Zeb shook his head trying to steady the revolving space surrounding him. The abused scar on his cheek oozed a stream of blood down his face.

He frustratedly growled; the binders limited his movements. He couldn't fight properly. Thrawn used that to his advantage, overwhelming the muscle-bound Lasat with a barrage of attacks. 

Zeb spotted an opening and a small hope emerged. He shifted his stance to use the force of the attacks to clumsily move backwards to a wall. Use it to propel yourself forward and send this kriffing asshole to the ground!  

Zeb felt the ghost of the wall on his arm. Leaning back to ready himself for the push, he wasn't expecting cruel fingers to grab the side of his head and bash his face against the durasteel. 

Thrawn grasped his adversary's arm, slowly twisting the limb out of its socket. Zeb's breathing quickened as hysteria engulfed every fiber of his body. The cuffs dug themselves into his wrists as he writhed in place, trying to get his tormentor off of him. The cold voice whispered into his ear, "The Rebellion."

The universe stilled for Zeb. The artificial honeyed words continued, "Tell me the location of the rebel base and all of this will end right here."

There was no hesitation, no regret. It was a stupid trade. From all the rumors and their encounters with the Chimaera , Zeb would have thought Thrawn to be intelligent. He took a deep breath, "Break my kriffing arm, you Imperial scum!"

With his declaration, violent snaps trailed down his arm as it shattered in multiple places. A scream erupted from his tortured maw. With tears pricking in his eyes, he managed to swing his body around and topple his opponent over. Thrawn hit the floor with a bang, the noise made Zeb flinch.

The rebel slid to the ground, pressing himself to the wall. Its temperature is cool against his feverish body. "...Kara–" His throat burned. Why did it hurt to speak? "–bast." 

Zeb forced himself up, using the wall to steady himself. Sweat and blood dripped off his fur, heavy pants echoed through his ears, the throbbing pain muddled his brain. His flesh was burning, yet his bones creaked with ice. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of blue closing in on him. In an instant, Zeb only knew one thing: fight.

He rammed his body against Thrawn, using his weight to unbalance the other. He unleashed a spin kick, the sound of crunching bones made him growl in satisfaction. Now with the other at a distance, Zeb slammed his skull against his opponent. He huffed and shook his head past the stinging sensation left behind. Regaining his bearings, he continued to pummel the man, oblivious to the string of whimpers that spewed past his lips as his broken arm throbbed with every strike. 

With his mind foggy with pain, he didn't hear the thundering sound of boots rushing behind him. The troopers seized him by his shoulders and drove his back against the metal floor. A howl of agony tore at his throat as the impact of the action not only knocked the wind out of Zeb but created a searing pain that exploded from his broken arm. 

Blood began to decorate his jaw as his body made an effort to eject the fluid. Hoarse coughs jerked his body, forcing him to fight for breath as precious air refused to enter his lungs. The lack of oxygen blurred the blue figure that enveloped his sight.

Thrawn smoothed out his uniform, and a small cruel smile emerged, "How long will it take for you to break, indeed."

The Chiss glanced at the guards and made a dismissing gesture; the stormtroopers hoisted up Zeb's limp body. Their fingers cruelly jabbed into the tender flesh. Zeb could only manage to produce a groan in response. 

"No food or water for the next 24 hours," Thrawn grabbed Zeb's beard, requiring the Lasat to stare in the blood-red eyes of his torturer, "Perhaps that will weaken his resolve." Despite the effort it took, Zeb managed to glare right back, his luminous, green eyes challenging the Chiss to do his worst. 

"Take him away."

The troopers dragged Zeb out of the interrogation room, a trail of blood marking the route they took. In his hazy mind, Zeb smiled, knowing that someone would have to go out of their way to clean the mess he left behind. A beeping noise deafened him for a few seconds before being flung into an Imperial cell. His whole body tensed as his injuries screamed. Zeb took measured breaths to stop the pulsating of his mangled form. 

Finally, everything was calm; all of the abuse and leftover pain felt disconnected. Even with the Stormtroopers digging their boots repeatedly into his sides, their abuse, jeers, and laughter fell to deaf ears and a fading body. 

Maybe Zeb should have been concerned that all sensation was declining. But the only thought that crossed his mind as his eyelids grew heavy was of his family safe and sound on the Ghost .

Chapter Text

Kallus had always taken pride in his work ethic. His loyalty was rarely questioned, and his reputation as a ruthless ISB agent was known from every corner of the Star Destroyer. So it didn't surprise the guards to see the agent patrolling the hall. The fact that Agent Kallus didn't have the authorization to enter the cell didn't cross their mind until it was too late.

As Kallus stood in front of the door, among the fallen bodies, it occurred to him that he didn't have to do any of this. Adjusting the weight of his bo-rifle and the messenger bag, Kallus became conscious of this foolish endeavor. He could have just reported to the Rebellion that Zeb was taken onto the Chimaera .

It was the easiest and safest solution… 

No. 

He wanted to do this.  

Kallus looked down at the guards. He already came this far, why stop now?

Kallus entered the room and was hit with the horrid scent of blood and burnt fur. Darkened skies, crowds of screams, and the ashes of a destroyed civilization echoed throughout the room. Kallus almost collapsed from the vicious flashbacks, holding himself up using the wall. His eyes clenched as the memories seared themselves into his brain.

His bo-rifle felt heavy on his back.

Gasping in the filthy air, Kallus blinked the memories away. His vision focused on the red puddle he unknowingly stepped in. Biting back a yelp, Kallus became aware of the horror show he walked into.

The floor was painted crimson with dark pools of blood marking a trail directing him to Zeb's body. Swallowing hard, he shakily made his way towards him. A sick drumroll in the form of Zeb's labored breathing reverberated in the cell, practically preparing Kallus for the ghastly sight of the rebel. 

"What did he do to you?" 

Zeb's fur was matted with inky blood, the jumpsuit–once yellow and green–was now drenched in the dark liquid. Much of the armor Zeb usually wore was missing or broken, and the jumpsuit itself was torn in multiple places. The guards hadn't bothered taking off the cuffs; Zeb's arms were stiffly held behind his back and were decorated with lacerations and burns, many following the striped pattern on his fur.

Kallus couldn't see much of Zeb's face, but what wasn't pressed against the metal floor was splotched with blood. A deep slash with angry scratches ran down from under Zeb's eye to his chin. And despite all the injuries, Zeb was undoubtedly alive.  

Thrawn still needs him, he can't kill Zeb just yet, it was a twisted thought, yet it strangely comforted Kallus. He ignored how his skin crawled and he knelt beside his former enemy's body. Trembling hands brushed against Zeb's fur and Kallus felt the warm blood soak into his gloves. 

He shuddered.

Tracing the damage on his companion, Kallus swallowed the lump in his throat as his fingers almost pierced the tender skin. Kallus tore his hand away, biting back a sob, he didn't need to carelessly hurt Zeb anymore than he already had. Pulling himself together, Kallus stood back up and numbly walked outside. 

He needed the key to Zeb's cuffs. 

Once Kallus exited the claustrophobic, nightmare cell, he took a deep breath of the recycled air of the Star Destroyer. Somehow the cleaner air made him sick. Kallus patted down the Stormtroopers for the key. It took longer than he would admit– surprisingly the armor hid small objects very well. 

Rubbing the key in an attempt to suppress his frazzled nerves, Kallus returned to Zeb and unlocked the binders. With a quiet hiss, the contraption released the Lasat's wrists. Kallus saw the muscles relax and Zeb's arms limply flop onto the floor. His breath stuttered, but nothing else came from releasing the Lasat.

Kallus debated opening one of the medpacs in his bag, bacta was certainly required for the open wounds Zeb suffered. Was it possible to perform a quick medical procedure? He reached for the latch on the bag but paused when he saw the golden glow of the meteorite peek out. 

This place wasn't safe.

Time was at the essence, he didn't know how long the guards would be out cold for. Or maybe the Grand Admiral could be on his way to the cell for all Kallus knew. Did Thrawn sleep? Dread seeped into his bones, Stars, did Thrawn even sleep?

Kallus' breathing quickened, How much did Thrawn already know? This could end up being a very elaborate plan to catch him in the act as the rebel spy. He broke out in a cold sweat. It was ridiculous, he knew. Here he was, next to the person he intended to rescue, and instead of doing that, Kallus was too busy spiraling in a self-made delusion. What good was all his ISB training if a single, ridiculous theory rendered him useless?

Well. It was a ridiculous theory that got him into this mess, wasn't it?

His hand unconsciously stroked Zeb's fur, its unusual texture snapping Kallus out of his thoughts. Kallus blushed as an unexpected urge to remove his gloves to feel the velvety fur made itself known. Clearing his throat and taking a quick peek at the open hall behind him, Kallus leaned towards Zeb. Whispering as he gingerly shook the Lasat awake, "Get up, Garazeb. We need to get out of here."

It took a few seconds before Zeb slowly came to, although Kallus wouldn't describe him as aware. Hazy and unfocused eyes darted all around the cell before he attempted to rush to his feet. Zeb didn't get far, his arms collapsing from under him. Kallus hurried to catch the injured Lasat before he cracked his head open.

The closeness made the agent's heart race. However, he couldn't dwell on the foreign sensation as the larger man began to thrash around trying to release himself from Kallus's grasp. "Zeb! It's alright, it's just me!"

Zeb's writhing gradually came to a stop with light tremors replacing the wild movements. Kallus comforted the Lasat in hushed tones, his gloves caressing the striped fur. Indistinct and strained noises came from the Lasat, his ears repeatedly twitching before resting firmly against his head. Bright, green eyes blinked repeatedly with recognition sparking to life.

A raspy voice greeted him, "Ka-Kallus?" The glint of white from Zeb's fangs as he gave a tiny smile made Kallus' arms weak. 

Kallus dryly swallowed, "Ye-yeah."

Zeb chuckled– an angel's choir to Kallus' ears– before wincing as the pain seemed to set in, "K-Karabast."

Kallus gave a tight smile, "Come on, I don't know how much time we have." He helped Zeb get onto his feet, shifting his weight to balance the Lasat as his legs trembled under him. A low whine came from Zeb as the motions aggravated his injuries. Kallus felt warm blood run down from the wounds and onto his sleeve. He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. It hurt to look at the kind man so mutilated. 

Kallus gestured to the bag, "Do you think you can make it without any bacta?"

Zeb just grunted in affirmation. Kallus chose not to push the subject further, "I'll try to shoulder most of your weight, but you're too heavy for me to take you all the way to the ship."

They shuffled towards the door, the steady pace giving Kallus ample time to brace himself as Zeb's legs buckled beneath him. Kallus followed the motion and kneeled beside him. "'m fine," slurred Zeb, "had worse." 

It's not fine, Kallus wanted to say, but the words refused to form themselves. You're probably the reason why he's had worse, idiot, he just nodded and helped Zeb out of the cell. 

The bright lights from the hall nearly blinded Kallus and he blinked away the irritating sensation from his eyes. Stealing a quick glance at Zeb, he noticed the Lasat flinch away from the passed-out guards. Kallus, at that moment, wished he had killed them instead.

… 

The two stumbled along the halls, their uninterrupted and calm atmosphere giving Kallus enough time to think of a topic to fill the quiet. He adjusted his bo-rifle again, the various weights against the strap had been pulling the weapon loose from his back.

"Where is your bo-rifle? I didn't see you with it earlier."

"Left it with 'Bine."

Ah, Miss Wren , and speaking of the Ghost crew. "I would have assumed your friends would have stormed the place by now."

An exhausted chuckle came from the larger man, "Told 'em to f-finish the mission before comin' to get me."

"And they listened to that idiotic command?" 

"Important." 

Kallus huffed, "How is a mission more important than you?"

A beat went by as the realization of what he just said hit him. Heat rose to his face as he tried to stutter out a haphazard excuse. "I-I mean, your team seems so close. I wouldn't have taken them as people who would aban… don… you?" 

Kallus paused confused, Zeb hadn't given any indication that he heard any of the babbling he just spat out. Hesitantly, Kallus maneuvered his hand to grab the Lasat's attention, "Zeb? Are you alright? I didn't mean to–"

Suddenly the Lasat's full weight came crashing down, nearly crushing Kallus. His bad leg protested with every aching step while he struggled to carefully lay Zeb against the durasteel wall.

Panic pumped through his heart as the agent attempted to rouse the rebel once again. "Come on. Come on! Zeb, wake up! I don't know how much time we have left before we're discovered."

A groan came from Zeb as he weakly stirred awake. Small tremors became prominent as Zeb shifted to a comfortable position. Slivers of green peered from behind his eyelids, "Hurts…"

"I know. I know it does. You're going to be fine. I'm here to help you."

Kallus whipped around, grasping a medpac from his bag and accidentally spilling its contents once he managed to snap open the kit. He blindly searched for the bacta products scattered around him as tears welled up in his eyes. Somehow he found a vial of bacta. Kallus dipped his index finger into the jelly-like substance and began applying the gel onto the ugly gash on Zeb's cheek.

At first, the Lasat recoiled away from his touch with a quiet defiant whimper. Kallus drew his hand back and nervously tried to soothe him, "Shhhh, it's all going to okay, Garazeb." He continued whispering sweet reassurances, "I won't hurt you," his hand returning to Zeb's injury while the other stroked the sideburns on the opposite cheek. "You'll be alright. I'm right here with you."

Eventually, the two beings sat in relative silence, broken now and again by Zeb's sounds of discomfort and Kallus' calming words. A stark contrast to the raging storm of doubt and worry in Kallus. 

He was going to fail. They were going to be caught and executed. This was pointless. They were going to die–

Growling to himself, Kallus shook his head to clear away the thoughts. The Lambda -class shuttle wasn't going to take off without them. And with the skeleton crew that dared to call itself night shift, they had a higher possibility of escape.

Everything was under control. 

But it didn't hurt to speed up the process… 

The agent sighed as he picked up the medical supplies he left strewn about the floor. He was glad he had enough foresight to steal the medpacs; the vial of bacta he grabbed was empty, half of it was used to cover the large gash and the scratches that ran down the purple fur. As Kallus stored the medpac back into the bag, he finally took in how abused Zeb was. 

The dark cell the Lasat was trapped in, hid much of the damage; blood still steadily dripped off many of the lacerations, and the exposed skin, where fur was burned, was pale. However there was a sight that made Kallus pause his inspection, he furrowed his brows in confusion. Zeb's left arm was pressed protectively against his battered body. Its swollen appearance made Kallus feel his heart sink. 

How could have he missed this?

With shallow breaths, his gloved hand gently tried to remove the arm to examine the damage done to it. But the instant Kallus made contact with the inflamed limb Zeb's vibrant eyes snapped open. The next few seconds were a blur for Kallus, ending with him stifling a yelp as Zeb's firm grip nearly crushed Kallus' hand.

A deep growl emanated from the Lasat, "Don't… touch…"

His eyes highlighted the feverish state he was in; pupils dilated and glazed over, not giving any sign that Zeb recognized the man in front of him.

"Zeb, it's just me."

Kallus got another growl in response with sharp claws digging into his flesh. The image of another Lasat standing over the agent flashed in his mind– cruel laughter and the sound of a bo-rifle firing rang across the land– Kallus drew in a sharp breath.

It's not him. It's not him. It's not him. Garazeb is not intentionally harming you, he's in pain. He's not aware of his actions.

Composing himself, he attempted to pacify the violent state Zeb was in. "Zeb. I need you to let go," he hated how his voice quivered as he spoke, "I promise I won't touch your arm again, but we need to get out of here–"

His pleading was interrupted by the sound of boots echoing throughout the hallway. Despite how much Kallus wished for it, a clean escape off a Star Destroyer was out of the question. And a clean escape off the Chimaera was nigh impossible. So when a lone Stormtrooper came upon the pair, he knew they were out of time. 

"Karabast."

The trooper scrambled for their comlink; giving Kallus enough time to wrestle his sore hand from Zeb's iron grip to fire his bo-rifle. It was over in an instant, the soldier fell to his knees before collapsing– dead.

It was too late.

If the flashing red light of the comlink and the gruff voice on the other side of the line was any indication; they were going to be swarmed by Stormtroopers in less than a minute.

"Ya killed 'im."

Kallus turned to face the Lasat, the commotion appeared to snap Zeb out of the fever fueled anger. His eyes were still somewhat unfocused, but he was conscious enough to speak. The agent– somehow– managed to hold himself back from hugging Zeb. Instead, to satiate his need to hold the Lasat in his arms, Kallus helped Zeb up from his position against the wall. Steadying the unbalanced Lasat, Kallus looked upon the downed soldier in front of them, "I suppose I did."

The steel in his voice made Zeb tense for a split second. Pausing their trudging through the hallway to examine Kallus, who felt his face turn red under the gaze of the other.

"Buckethead probably deserved it," Zeb mumbled seemingly satisfied with what he found.

They continued their walk to the hangar, leaving the gruff voice on the other line of the comlink to fade away. 

…

Zeb had fallen silent during their journey, either from exhaustion or from Kallus unintentionally not participating in any conversation. The agent was distracted by the uproar of the Chimaera's crew, focusing on the reports that his own comlink spat out; using alternative paths and unused rooms to keep them hidden for as long as he could.

Once they made it to the hangar, however, it became a very different story. The openness of the location left them exposed to blaster fire; Kallus' thoughts raced as he tried to figure out how to find cover.

"We found them! They're in Hangar 2!"

Kriff!

He hesitated too long; blaster fire rained upon the pair. Kallus hissed as white hot pain momentarily burned his leg, blood gushed out the wound. Ignoring the affliction, the agent led them to the Lambda -class shuttle ducking behind other ships to fire his bo-rifle at the horde of stormtroopers.

Despite his precise aim, their numbers never seemed to shrink, every trooper he shot down was replaced swiftly by another. Kallus frustratedly grunted, they were going to be cornered if he didn't make an opening soon. A tap on his shoulder made him jolt making him miss a shot, the laser hitting a crate full of explosives.

Huh. Not what he wanted, but he would be lying if he said it didn't help. With the resounding boom, Kallus turned to Zeb, who gave him an apologetic look before pointing at a hanging platform. 

Perfect.

While the stormtroopers were distracted with their fire problem, Kallus began shooting the wires that suspended the heavy piece of metal in the air. How is that not a workplace hazard?

The platform fell as the pair rushed to the Lambda -class shuttle. The deafening crash of the platform and subsequent explosions made Zeb wince and dig his claws into Kallus' shoulder. Kallus opened the ship with a strained laugh, almost tripping over the notion of finally leaving the Empire's clutches.

Closing the door behind them, he led Zeb to one of the cots, laying down the taller man, and practically tucking him into it. Kallus rushed to plop down the other items beside the bed, They needed to get out of there now!

"Ah, yer coming with?" 

Kallus jumped a little, not expecting Zeb to be aware enough to speak. The Lasat gave an exhausted grin, his fangs vaguely peeking over his lips. Unable to help himself, Kallus returned the smile, "Can't possibly stay with this welcoming party now, can I?"

Zeb gave a soft chuckle before wincing at the exertion, "I s'pose not."

Kallus gave Zeb a concerned look, "I'll be back as soon as I can," before running up to the front of the ship and into the pilot seat. Taking the controls Kallus started the ship up, alerts going off as the shots of stormtroopers' blasters hit the metal. Kallus resisted the urge to flip off the crowd of troopers as the engines fired up.

The shuttle flew out of the Chimaera and into open space. Kallus thought he could almost hear the disbelief of the crew over the humming of the engines. The image of Admiral Konstantine and Governor Pryce's gaping expressions made his heart feel lighter.

As the Lambda -class zipped out of reach of the Star Destroyer's tractor beam, Kallus counted down the seconds of the TIE-fighters revving up and their release into the vastness of space. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 

The hyperdrive button lit up and Kallus left the frigid and ruthless Empire behind.

Kallus sank into the seat rubbing his hand over his face. His weary body finally finding the time to relax. He stiffened for a second. He couldn't rest. Zeb was injured in the barracks. 

He went to stand up before collapsing back onto the seat. His legs throbbed with fatigue, forcing Kallus to stay in place until he found the strength to rise to his feet. The– now official– ex-agent stared off into the hypnotic blue streaks of hyperspace as he waited, his eyelids growing heavy as they lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Text

The ship lurched forward, nearly throwing Kallus off his seat. "What the–"

Why did the ship exit hyperspace? There was no way they arrived at their next jump point; nor at Atollon. Not so soon. His stomach dropped as he looked over the controls.

Karabast. 

He slammed his fist onto the panel, the hyperdrive was down. He buried his face in his hands; they would have to travel by sublight to reach Atollon. With a frustrated groan, Kallus took out his comm and adjusted it to the Fulcrum frequency. At least this unforeseen complication allowed him to report to the Rebellion on the incident.

The Fulcrum symbol spun in place for a moment awaiting the secret phrase, "By the light of Lothal's moons."

With a small chime as confirmation to proceed, Kallus continued, "This is Fulcrum with an urgent message. My identity has been compromised and I am currently en route to Atollon in a Lambda -class T-4a shuttle."

"I have onboard Specter 4 of the Ghost crew. He is in critical condition and requires medical attention." 

"Again. This is Fulcrum with Specter 4 on board in critical condition. The hyperdrive has been damaged and we have to travel by sublight to reach Atollon. We need a rescue." 

He sent their current coordinates. 

"Fulcrum out."

Kallus exhaled as the blue light faded away. He didn't know how long it would take for rebel ships to arrive. Their sublight journey would have to continue for a while. Raking his fingers through his hair, Kallus turned and walked out the cockpit towards the barracks.

… 

Kallus sat on the bed across from Zeb, digging through the messenger bag and grabbing the medpac from their intermission in the Star Destroyer's hallway. Harsh breathing came from the sleeping form, although Kallus couldn't decide if it sounded any better than it did on the Chimaera . 

He reopened the medpac and frowned. The medisensor wasn't included, maybe in his hurry, he left behind the scanner? Kallus reached for another pack and ended with the same result. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, he should have suspected this. The Chimaera had medical droids, they wouldn't need the sensors because they could scan the bodies themselves. 

Taking another look at the medpacs, it seemed that it wasn't just the medisensors that were missing. The ex-agent restrained himself from infuriatingly screaming. Maybe next time I should just steal a medical droid, he bitterly chastised. 

While brooding over his unforeseen miscalculation, Kallus moved onto Zeb's cot, took off his filthy gloves, and tossed them on the floor. His hand hovered over the Lasat's form, time appeared to stop as he brushed his fingers through the purple fur. Kallus released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. 

Dried blood and partially burned patches of fur left much of it with a coarse feeling, but that didn't refrain Kallus from quietly gasping at the velvety texture that was present. The foreign sensation made him shiver, somehow Kallus managed to hold himself back from the addictive softness. He roused Zeb from his sleep, "Garazeb. Time to get up. Sorry, I left you alone for so long."

A trill came from the Lasat as he awoke, the unexpected noise made Kallus do a double-take. Cute. He tried to conceal his flushed cheeks as green eyes stared at the ceiling in confusion. The Lasat jerked up from the cot with a strained yelp. Kallus let his hands linger around the Lasat, not wanting to overwhelm him with his unwanted touch.

Zeb winced with every throaty breath he took, his hand traveling to his chest as if to feel his heartbeat thumping. He made clawing motions with his fingers which gradually began to tear into the skin.

"Garazeb, that's enough!" Kallus reached out and detached the violent fingers; he sighed, relieved to see that there was little damage that Zeb did to himself. The ex-agent set the hand onto his knee and traced circles into Zeb's palm. He worriedly frowned, "Zeb?"

Zeb sat still, his wheezy breathing steadying, and his ears quivered as he listened to the ambiance of the ship. His mouth opened, but no words fell out; an alarmed expression crossed his face. The Lasat repeated the action ending with the same result. A weak, frustrated whine crawled out his throat, leading to a coughing fit. 

Kallus patiently waited for Zeb, comforting him as he struggled to speak. Finally, words formed–slow and faint– "W-we're not in hyperspace."

The ex-agent tightly smiled and focused his ire on the situation they were in by continuing to draw circles on Zeb's palm, "The hyperdrive was disabled, we're going to travel by sublight to reach Atollon."

"Hmmm," Zeb's eyes fluttered closed, a yawn escaping him. Kallus rubbed his thumb against Zeb's uninjured cheek, "Zeb, I'm going to need you to stay awake while I treat you." The Lasat hummed again, slowly opening his eyes. 

Kallus moved to open the first medpac, with the snap of the kit, the human was reminded of the predicament they were in. He heard the clatter of what was left of Zeb's armor falling to the ground as the Lasat removed it.

"Ya contacted the Ghost, right?"

Kallus shook his head, "Contacted headquarters at Atollon. I'm sure they'll inform your crew about our situation." He looked up and was greeted by the saddest Zeb he'd ever seen. His large expressive ears were planted against his head and his emerald eyes shone with unshed tears. 

Kallus pursed his lips, "But, you're right. I'll get in touch with the Ghost as soon as I'm done here with you." The frayed edges of the jumpsuit curled and stuck where it met open flesh. Kallus had to carefully peel the clothes off the burnt areas; Zeb hissed as bits of fur came along with the suit. Kallus winced sympathetically, "I'll let you have a chance to speak with them. I'm sure they're very worried about you."

They fell in comfortable silence with Kallus shuffling Zeb's jumpsuit down to his waist. His eyes traced the dark, alluring stripes that contrasted handsomely against the light purple fur. Kallus swallowed thickly, he hoped Zeb didn't notice how his face turned red. Oblivious to the ex-agent's plight, Zeb broke the silence, "So… um… Fulcrum, eh? How was that working out for you?"

Kallus couldn't help the laugh that escaped him.

… 

"What did Thrawn ask you?" 

"You know. The usual bantha crap," a tired chuckle escaped Zeb's lips. "'Where is the rebel base' and 'who are the Rebellion's leaders', all that kriffing nonsense." 

Kallus hummed in agreement; throughout his efforts to treat the Lasat, he learned that Garazeb Orrelios hated the feel of bacta on his fur. Every time he approached the Lasat with the gel substance he tried to squirm away.

"It makes my fur sticky," he had whined. So to distract Zeb from the uncomfortable sensations, they had passed the time talking to each other. Hours flew by as their discussions went over the mundane to the exciting parts of their lives.

Kallus checked over each bacta covered wound, making sure that Zeb hadn't wiped away any gel. Thankfully, he found that bacta patches were acceptable; the patch on Zeb's cheek was one of the few areas left alone by the fussy Lasat. As he scanned Zeb's body, his hands drew too close to the one injury that Zeb refused to let him touch. 

His broken arm. 

Zeb immediately responded to the near-contact hackles rising as he growled and bared his fangs.

"Garazeb, I do need to see it." 

The Lasat tried his best to curl into a ball, "Ya can see it just fine from where yer sitting."

"Zeb, please," he held out his hand.

The desire to tell the ex-agent to kriff off was evident on his face. After a brief staredown, Zeb relented and gave Kallus access to the limb. Kallus gingerly took the arm in his own hands. 

Zeb clenched his teeth, hissing with the slight touch. Kallus traced the damage with his eyes, not trusting himself to not accidentally put Zeb in more pain. The swelling hadn't gone down since he last saw it. Bits of bone poked the flesh, not quite penetrating the skin but enough to leave noticeable bumps. 

"Bastard broke my arm," Zeb murmured.

"Broke? Zeb, this…," failing to keep his voice steady, Kallus rubbed a hand across his face. "He...maimed your arm, Zeb!"

"We're going to need a medical droid or a bacta tank. I can't–" tears blurred his vision. 

Zeb studied him with an indescribable look; his ears then perked up, "Sure ya can, Kal. Ya just need to have a bit of faith in yourself." 

Kallus chuckled through the knot in his throat– the trust Zeb gave him was truly undeserved – "Kal?"

Surprise graced Zeb's features with embarrassment following soon after. Avoiding his gaze the Lasat rubbed at his neck, "If you're fine with it." 

Kallus pretended to think it over, "I'm fine with it." The grin that he received from the Lasat made the ex-agent's heart sing.

Sadly their moment of levity couldn't last, Kallus grunted as he got up from the bed. Stretching his aching limbs and popping his back. He heard Zeb mutter, "Way to kriffing show off in front of the injured, Kal."

He huffed in amusement, "I'm going to have to set the bones back into place," Zeb grimaced, "unfortunately there isn't anything to ease the pain."

"Can't we wait for the Rebellion to show up?"

"I don't want to risk it. We don't know how long it's going to take them to arrive." 

Kallus helped Zeb lay back onto the bed while he searched the ship for something to keep the arm splint. He could use his bo-rifle like Zeb had used for him on Bahryn, but he suspected it could end up being too heavy to be a proper splint. 

Limping through the claustrophobic halls of the shuttle, Kallus found it to be maddeningly empty. Useless. Absolutely nothing. Maybe he would need to fashion his bo-rifle into a split.  As he walked in a particularly dim area the sound of high-pitched whistling smoke made him stop in his tracks. 

Kallus turned the corner to see a mess of wires and pipes. Well, at least now he knew how the hyperdrive went down. He scowled, I guess this ship did need repairs . Thankfully, nothing was a hazard– Well, nothing is an immediate hazard.

He grabbed a nearby pipe, intending to place it back into its spot in the wall, but instead, the durasteel snapped in his hands. Surprised by how easy it was removed, Kallus tested the weight of the hefty piece of metal, Not bad. Could be worse.

He found his makeshift splint. 

He left the area with a huff; he could deal with the mess later. Now all he needed was something tough for Zeb to bite when he set his arm. The Lasat's fangs would be difficult to work around– strong enough to easily crunch through most of the items on the ship– Kallus didn't want to use anything metal. Fearing that Zeb could tear the inside of his mouth if he bit too hard.

But it had taken him too long to find a splint, how long would it take him to get a mouthguard. Kallus rubbed at his eyes as he mused over what to do, maybe going back and getting another pipe would have to do after all. 

Then it hit him. He marched to the cockpit and kicked at the pilot's chair. The ex-agent, then, adjusted his position and bent the metal enough to tear off one of the armrests from the pilot's chair. It's not like he was going to need it to pilot their ship.

With his newly acquired items, Kallus elated returned to the barracks. When he entered the room, the ex-agent could almost imagine Zeb was napping until he came back from his search. Except he wasn't; Kallus was pleased to see Zeb laying down, but if the golden glow in the Lasat's large hand was any indication– Zeb was holding the meteorite.

"Didn't think you'd keep the rock," Zeb murmured, Kallus could hear the wonderment exude from his strained voice. Still, the ex-agent felt like he had to defend himself, half slamming the items onto his empty bed. "Why not? It's warm and it throws light." 

And it reminds me of you, Kallus finished in his head.

Zeb just hummed in response, enraptured by the warmth the meteorite gave off. Kallus plucked the rock from the Lasat's hand earning him an indignant, "Hey!" 

"Anyway, you shouldn't be moving around." He placed his treasured possession back onto his bed, "What if you reopened something?" 

With the worst-case scenario planted in his mind, Kallus checked over the wounds. Zeb wriggled around as the ex-agent's fingers prodded his bruised flesh. "Nothing's reopened. Ya did a good job patching me up."

There it was again. That trust, that kindness, that wonderful feeling in his chest Zeb gave him. Undeserved. You're a monster. You killed his entire species and you repay him by falling in lo–

"Hey." 

Kallus exhaled and shook the forbidden thought out of his head. He met Zeb's eyes and was nearly bowled over by the concern lacing them, "Your thoughts are so loud I can hear them. I thought I told you before, I put Lasan behind me." 

That's impossible, Garazeb.

Kallus wanted to argue, Destroying an entire civilization– an entire world– isn't something to be forgiven. He took a deep breath, Why don't you hate me? Why are you so kind to me? Instead, Kallus gave the Lasat the armrest, who gave him a quizzical look, "So you don't ruin your teeth while I set your arm." 

"Oh."

Kallus was sure he imagined the disappointment in Zeb's eyes as inserted the object in between his fangs– cringing at the taste– Kallus took the arm. Zeb tensed, before forcing himself to relax. The stillness of the room made the ex-agent shudder as the anticipation of what he was about to do sank disgustingly into his body.

"Ready?" Zeb took a deep breath and nodded. Good, because he wasn't.

After taking a slow exhale himself, Kallus finally began setting the first bone. 

One.

He heard the plastic armrest cracking and straining under Zeb's powerful maw. 

Two.

The mattress ripped apart from underneath the Lasat's claws. 

Three. Four.

It wasn't long for stifled blood-curdling screams to erupt from Zeb.

Five.

Zeb's back arched with every snap of reset bone. He violently thrashed to try to extract his arm away from the ex-agent. Kallus had to hold down the Lasat, uncomfortably twisting his body so his grip on the broken limb wouldn't come loose. 

"Zeb! Please! Just a bit longer," he gulped through the knot in his throat, "Just a bit longer."

Sobs racked Zeb's body, the movements causing him to seize as every agitated wound delivered a stab of pain. Kallus caressed the Lasat's face, the panic-stricken look in his luminous eyes almost made Kallus quit right then and there.

"Come on. Deep breaths. We're almost finished." 

They both followed the exercise. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. 

They started once again.

Six. Seven. Eight… 

… 

Kallus hurriedly pressed as much of the leftover bacta patches onto Zeb's arm. He lay down the pipe and began wrapping the limb tightly in bandages to prevent everything from loosening. It wasn't perfect, but it was all he could do with their supplies. 

While he carefully bandaged the limb, Zeb cupped Kallus' cheek with his other hand and weakly grinned, "See? I knew you'd do great." 

The human returned the gesture with a sad chuckle, petting the sideburns on the Lasat's face. Zeb's breath stuttered causing him to wince as his injuries screamed at him. Kallus immediately took charge, fussing over the reopened scars and mumbling apologies over and over.

Zeb stared at Kallus as he worked, his large fingers playing with the hair on the ex-agent's sideburns and wiping away stray tears that fell from his brilliant, amber eyes. "Kal, I… I'm really happy that you…" the Lasat's voice faltered. "What I mean to say is…"

Sluggishly Zeb gave the human a small grin, "Kal, ya have real pretty eyes."

Hard-working hands paused their task; Kallus– known for his quick-wit and cunningness– dryly swallowed and intelligently responded, "You… have pretty eyes too, Zeb."

Zeb smiled wider– apparently pleased with the reply– his fangs in full display, which in Kallus' professional opinion made the Lasat appear even more handsome. Taking a shaky breath, Kallus tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach by reapplying bacta onto Zeb's injuries.

As he worked, Kallus found himself unconsciously stroking the lavender fur– its velvety texture calming his racing mind. Suddenly a quiet rumbling emanated from Zeb; startled by the noise Kallus pulled back. Did he do something wrong? 

Kallus opened his mouth to rush out an apology–

Instead an embarrassed, "Sorry," came from Zeb. The ex-agent was sure he would have suffered from whiplash if he looked up any faster. Kallus found the Lasat's ears downturned in shame and his hand covered the top half of his face, "T-the purring. I don't have control over it."

P-purring? 

The room grew hot; Kallus was certain he would melt. "N-no, it's alright! I just wasn't expecting–".

The purring quieted, yet Zeb didn't remove his hand, "'S not your fault." 

Kallus' heart twisted, "It's not your fault either," he removed the appendage covering the Lasat's eyes, Zeb briefly flinched at his touch. The ex-agent met the beautiful irises of the Lasat he fell in love with; he whispered, "I don't mind Zeb."

Kallus tilted the Lasat's head to set his forehead against Zeb's. Their breaths mingled as they remained silent; Kallus smiled when Zeb's purring returned at full force. They stayed together for what felt like hours, speaking in hushed tones about nothing and everything, their giggles were the only sound loud enough to interrupt the quiet. 

Eventually, Zeb was lulled to sleep, his soft snores tugged at Kallus to join him. The ex-agent, instead, hesitantly separated himself from the Lasat. Zeb slightly frowned and shifted with the loss of Kallus' soothing touch; Kallus stood motionless as he watched the Lasat settle down.

He took out his comm, rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes, and mentally prepared for the high energy the members of the Ghost always seemed to give. Kallus sat down on his own cot and ran his fingers through his hair. Guilt wracked his body, he had promised Zeb that he would have a chance to speak with the Spectres, but he had a feeling there wouldn't be another opportunity.

Kallus opened the Fulcrum frequency and with the chime that affirmed the Ghost picked up his line. Fulcrum began his transmission.

"This is Fulcrum with an important message to Spectre cell."

Hera Syndulla's voice came through the floating Fulcrum symbol, "This is the Spectre cell, continue Fulcrum." 

Kallus pretended not to hear the lilt of sadness in her voice, "I've already given a transmission to headquarters–" 

"So why are we getting this report from you?" Bridger interrupted. Kallus stopped himself from snapping at the boy, his nerves were still high-strung after the cycle he had. Kallus continued, "But I was told to report to you as well by Garazeb."

There was silence on the other end as the crew took in what Kallus had said. Multiple voices suddenly yelled through the hologram, nearly deafening Kallus with their intensity. He fruitlessly tried to shush them.

"Is he alright?" 

Kallus looked over at Zeb, who vaguely frowned in his sleep, but was otherwise undisturbed despite the commotion. It honestly impressed the ex-agent, "He's–"

"Can we talk to him?"

"Well, not–"

"What? Why not?" 

"He's currently asleep!" Kallus half-shouted. "And heavily injured. Our shuttle's hyperdrive has been disabled, so we won't be able to reach Atollon anytime soon!"

Their hopeless situation turned his stomach into knots. Stuck traveling by sublight waiting to be rescued by the Rebellion or captured by the Empire. He swallowed at the notion of Thrawn getting his hands on Zeb again.

Hera's determined voice cut through the horrid mental picture, "We're on our way."

He nodded, despite them not being able to see the action, "I'll send you our current coordinates right away." 

"And Fulcrum? Thank you."

Kallus weakly smiled. Shutting off the transmission with a tired sigh, Kallus let his body collapse on the bed, hissing as his own injuries reminded him that they existed. Kallus ignored the stings of pain, the bacta wasn't for him to use anyway. 

The ex-agent stared at the durasteel ceiling of the ship. Zeb's snores became a strange lullaby to Kallus; his eyelids grew heavy as the cycle's excitement finally took a toll on him. 

… 

Kallus jolted from his bed as ear-splitting beeping came from the cockpit. In his half-asleep state, he thought he could see the room flashing red with every blare of the alarm.

As the ex-agent stood up to investigate the issue, a groan next to him alerted Kallus to Zeb stirring awake. Kallus kneeled next to the man and cupped Zeb's face. He rubbed his thumb against the velvety cheek, trying to ease the Lasat back into a peaceful rest, "Shhhh, go back to sleep Garazeb. No need to worry, I'll go check on the ship."

Zeb leaned into his touch and a gentle purr emanated from his chest. Kallus smiled as he thumbed the prominent purple stripes before concern washed over him. Zeb's breathing was shallow yet harsh, leaving the Lasat almost gasping for air. 

Kallus' brow furrowed as he came to realize how warm the Lasat felt against his hand. Lasats ran hotter than humans– Kallus knew that very well– but they weren't bordering on scorching. The ex-agent's stomach turned into knots, Don’t tell me–

The wailing of the Lambda -class' alarms pulled Kallus away from his growing anxiousness; he hesitantly drew away from Zeb to inspect the alert. The Lasat made a noise of protest as he lost the soothing contact.

"I'll be back soon."

Kallus hurried through the shuttle's halls to the cockpit practically tripping due to his aching leg. Maybe the universe will decide to be generous and magically fix the hyperdrive while we're here, Kallus sourly thought. 

Once he reached the front of the ship Kallus felt his heart stop, he dryly swallowed as his fingernails dug themselves into his palms. He ignored the flashing lights the panel emitted; there was no need to check what the ship detected. His knees nearly buckled from under him, Kallus gripped the pilot's chair to keep himself from falling. His hand covered his mouth and a cold numbness washed over him.

The dreaded figure of the Chimaera loomed right on top of them.

Chapter Text

"Fulcrum to the Ghost !"

The shrieking alerts deafened Kallus as he tried to pilot the shuttle through the rain of blaster fire. The Lambda -class shook with every direct hit from the Imperial ships pursuing them.

"Fulcrum to the Ghost !"

"The Chimaera has appeared right on top of us! I repeat, we are under attack!"

Kallus clutched his comm as he jerked the shuttle to evade a devastating shot. He didn't know if the rebels could receive his signal, the ex-agent hadn't heard anything from the other end. 

Perhaps the Star Destroyer was already disrupting their communications. I need to get out of their range , Kallus furrowed his brows in determination. The stars blurred as Kallus sped up; maybe he couldn't hyperdrive out of the star system, but losing the Chimaera – while difficult– could be possible. Kallus grit his teeth as he dodged another barrage of laser bolts.

Yet, no matter how well Kallus piloted the shuttle– with one well-placed shot– the Lambda -class trembled as it slowed to a halt. Blue electricity danced along the controls, Kallus covered his face to avoid being burned, dropping the comm onto the panel in his panic.

He heard the device explode as it was overloaded with electricity. Once the flashing lights went down, Kallus removed his arms to see the charred remains of his only hope to contact the Rebellion.

Karabast.

Kallus sat in the dark, running a hand through his hair, and taking measured breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. The roar TIE-fighters and other Imperial ships made it difficult for him to slow his heartbeat. The shuttle trembled and instinctively Kallus shut his eyes. He swallowed harshly as his breathing exercise failed to relax his body. 

They were going to die. Zeb was going to die. Where was the Rebellion? The rebels always had impeccable timing, surely they wouldn't abandon one of their own? He wished that there was a planet close by, so they could be pulled into its gravitational pull. Anything was better than being captured by the Empire.

The Lambda -class shook once again, the screech of durasteel against durasteel snapped Kallus out of his spiraling thoughts. Why wasn't the Lambda -class being pulled upward? The Chimaera had a working tractor beam, so why– why was their ship being boarded?

Kallus cautiously opened his eyes and shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He twisted his lips and fixed his gaze into the vastness of space in front of him. Did he actually pilot the ship far enough from the Chimaera ? Far enough for the Imperial officers– for Thrawn– to dispatch a unit of troopers after them.

Or was this an elaborate scheme? 

The Lambda -class groaned as if to disagree with his line of thought. And with that confirmation, a plan popped into Kallus' mind. He bolted to the barracks using the walls to hold himself up when the ship threw off his balance.

His leg twinged in pain during a particularly jarring shake, causing the ex-agent to come to a stop for a moment. As Kallus leaned against the wall he heard the sharp hiss of a fire torch was melting metal. He scowled, he was running out of time, taking a slow breath, Kallus urged himself to carry on with his trek back to the barracks.

… 

Kallus burst into the room and haphazardly threw the half empty medpacs back into the messenger bag. Take only what's essential, the ex-agent thought as he carefully placed the meteorite into the bag as well. 

Not yet planning on carrying the bag, Kallus set it down on his cot before rushing over to pick up his bo-rifle. He went over the makeshift plan in his head, lifting up his weapon, and pointing it at imaginary enemies.

"Mmh...Kal? What're ya doin'?"

Jumping slightly at the voice, Kallus glanced over at Zeb, whose weary eyes stared up at Kallus in confusion. The ex-agent relaxed his grip on the bo-rifle, he felt his face grow warm in embarrassment, "Some trouble popped up, that's all. No need to worry, Garazeb."

Concern flashed across Zeb's face; he  moved to sit up, "Big trouble?"

Kallus gingerly pushed Zeb back onto the bed. "Nothing of the sort," he lied.

"Ya grabbed your bo-rifle," Zeb pointed out.

Instead of responding, Kallus sat on the cot and pressed the back of his hand on Zeb's cheek. Zeb reflexively leaned into Kallus' touch, sighing as the hand cooled his heated face. The ex-agent frowned, the Lasat's temperature wasn't any better than earlier.

Kallus' shoulders slumped as he took in Zeb's worn out appearance, his usually vivid green eyes were dulled with fever, his face was scrunched up in discomfort, and his breathing rattled with every intake of recycled air. Kallus exhaled and held Zeb's hand, rubbing the fur with his thumb, "I'll get us out of this."

"Ya said it wasn't a big deal," Zeb grumbled. Kallus gave the Lasat a small smile before bringing the appendage to his lips. He gave it a quiet kiss, "You just work on getting better. I'll do the hardest part."

With a flick of his ears, Zeb faintly nodded, removing his hand from Kallus' hold. The Lasat hesitated for a second before he cupped Kallus' jaw. Zeb brought Kallus closer, pausing when their breaths blended together. 

Kallus automatically placed his forehead against Zeb's. He felt himself turn crimson, he was melting– he was sure of it– a purr arose from the Lasat as he pressed his cheek against the side of Kallus' face.

Zeb rubbed their faces together, Kallus' breathing hitched at the wonderful sensation. When Zeb repeated the gesture on the opposite cheek, the ex-agent eagerly followed suit, imitating the movements.

Hours seemed to have flown by once they pulled apart, their heavy breathing from their intimate excursion were the only sounds they could produce. 

Zeb swallowed gulps of air, before giving Kallus a bashful grin, "Good luck, be safe." 

Dizzily Kallus nodded, standing from the bed with a little equally shy smile. Despite not fully understanding what transpired, Kallus could infer the significance of their actions. He blushed once more as he left the room; the door slid closed behind him and he made his way back to where he heard the fire torch.

Kallus' grasp tightened on his bo-rifle, the whir of the weapon sang as the anticipation of battle rose. If he managed to kill all of the soldiers inside the enemy ship there was still a chance to escape the Empire. Kallus took cover, taking a steady breath as the door groaned from the strain the soldiers pushed on the other side.

Kill the troopers. Steal the ship.

He could deal with Stormtroopers, their paper-thin armor wouldn't stand a chance against his bo-rifle. 

The door fell with a bang .

Kallus' hope waned as black armor shone against the lights of the room. 

Death troopers.

Kallus shook away his doubts and began to fire into the platoon of the soldiers that flooded the ship. He heard multiple bodies fall to the ground; he grinned, adrenaline filling every inch of his body.

His joy was cut short with a pained yelp as a lucky shot seared the ex-agent's shoulder. Giving enough time for some of the troopers to close in on his position. Kallus grit his teeth and changed the bo-rifle's form, ramming one of its electrical ends into the closest soldier. 

Kallus plunged the electrostaff further into the figure, using them as a shield against their companions. He kicked the limp body into the group, knocking several Death troopers over. He quickly changed the form of his bo-rifle and shot another trooper point-blank. 

The remaining Death troopers used the death of their fellow soldier as a distraction to overwhelm Kallus. Shoving him against the floor and kicking his bo-rifle out of reach. Their armor jabbed into Kallus' flesh, the pain disorienting him enough for them to slap the binders onto his wrists.

Kallus hissed as he struggled against the cuffs and the gloved hands of his captors. Fingers clutched his hair before slamming his head into the floor. A ringing noise enveloped around him, he groaned as the stomping of boots made the pain worse. 

More Death troopers filled the Lambda- class , separating into pairs to explore every inch of the shuttle. 

Kallus lay still trying to reorientate his surroundings. Even as his world spun, Kallus spotted one of the soldiers confiscating his weapon. Rage simmered his veins, so when a Death trooper hauled him to his knees– rubbing his wrists raw as they pulled on the cuffs– Kallus rammed his head into the trooper in front of him.

The ex-agent catapulted himself forward, standing on his wobbly legs. He glared at the Death trooper holding his bo-rifle, "That bo-rifle isn't… yours to… have."

… 

The barracks' door hissed opened revealing Zeb's resting form. Two soldiers apprehensively drew closer to Zeb, pointing their blasters at the seemingly unconscious Lasat.

One of them produced a pair of binders and carefully attempted to cuff the sleeping Lasat. With the opening pop of the binders, Zeb's eyes snapped open. The Lasat threw himself at the nearest Death trooper; launching the pair across the room.

The soldier's frightened screams filled the room as Zeb gripped their head– his claws cracking the helmet– and slammed their head against the durasteel floor. 

An unsettling crack immediately silenced the room.

Fevered green eyes snapped onto the open door. He caught the glimpse of silhouettes stalking around the inside of the ship. 

The Empire? Kal!  

A guttural growl emanated from Zeb. He released the body, drops of blood falling from his claws. The Lasat limped towards the exit, ignoring the small twinges of pain his broken arm gave as it hung uselessly by his side.

He needed to find Kallus. 

A strangled cry left Zeb's mouth when a blaster bolt struck the back of his right leg. He collapsed onto his knees, dazed, Zeb sloppily pressed his hand against the new wound. The Lasat winced at the stinging sensation before half-turning to see the lone Death trooper who shot him. They kept a fair distance away, but Zeb was sure he could take them down. 

He tried to stand back up, but he couldn't find the strength to get up on his feet. Zeb was too lightheaded– too tired– every wound ached and throbbed with his efforts. In his hazy mind, Zeb almost missed the sound of thundering boots coming closer to his location. The commotion had alerted Death troopers to inspect the room. When they saw the Lasat the soldiers tackled him onto his back. 

Zeb was sure that Kallus' efforts to treat his broken arm were wasted as he hit the ground. A tingling feeling shot down the entire limb before it bloomed into a raging fire. He howled in pain as he fought against the Death troopers forcing the binders onto his wrists. The troopers pressed his face against the durasteel floor.

An unexpected crunch of armor and bone interrupted their violent work. One trooper's hand had drifted too close to Zeb's mouth; his fangs dug themselves into the flesh. The soldier's screams made Zeb flinch– he half-wished to have bitten someone quieter– the Lasat sank his fangs deeper into the appendage. 

In retaliation, the Death troopers stabbed their gloved fingers into every wound they could find. Zeb's mouth clenched before flying open, releasing the trooper's hand, as the Death troopers dug into the tender flesh of his broken arm.

The soldiers didn't let up, punishing the Lasat for daring to injure their fellow soldier. Zeb wildly thrashed against their brutal touches, his yells morphed into coughs as blood gurgled in the Lasat's throat. The fluid ran down the sides of his mouth startling the soldiers out of their barbarity. The Death troopers turned the Lasat onto his side so he wouldn't choke. 

A combination of blood and bile splattered onto the durasteel floor. Broken sobs and dry heaves tormented the Lasat and a white hot pain flared deep in his bones. He wished for all the sensations to stop, it was just too much.

A horrified shout bounced off the walls of the room, "Zeb!"

Zeb opened his eyes to see Kallus standing over at the barracks' entrance. The ex-agent had streaks of blood and bruises decorating his face and a frightened look distorted his handsome features as he looked upon the bloodied Lasat.

In his foggy mind, Zeb half remembered the kiss between them and the marvelous feeling it left. The Lasat gave the ex-agent the warmest smile he could, "K-Kal."

The ex-agent was taken aback by his smile, although Zeb was unsure if it was because of how misplaced it was in regard to their situation. Kallus' amber eyes hardened, he shakily lifted his bo-rifle, "If you value your lives, you'll let go of him." 

The Death troopers removed their hands from the Lasat's body, raising them above their heads. In quick succession they all reached for their blasters; each soldier gracelessly fell to Kallus' bo-rifle.

"K-Kal," Zeb gulped through copper tasting air. Kallus ran up to him, kneeling beside the Lasat before setting down his bo-rifle.

"Don't speak. Stars, save your energy." His hands hovered over Zeb, unsure of where to place them. Zeb shut his eyes when they drew near his abused body, he tensed involuntarily while he waited for Kallus to make contact. After a few seconds of nothing happening, confused, the Lasat slowly reopened his eyes.

One of the ex-agent's trembling hands had paused right above his face. Kallus moved his hands back, his eyes shone with unshed tears, "Zeb, I'm–"

Kallus seized as blue electricity traveled throughout his body, he collapsed next to Zeb, passing out from the stun shot. The Lasat felt his heart race as unwanted noises and cruel touches overwhelmed him. He wrestled against the Death troopers trying to break free of their clutches until a sharp burn was pressed to his side.

Everything went dark.

… 

Consciousness slowly came back to Kallus, he groaned with the increased aches his body gave. He blinked rapidly trying to jump start his brain, it only took a few seconds, but a sinking feeling settled dreadfully in his stomach. 

He recognized a Star Destroyer's durasteel ceiling when he saw one. The ex-agent's blood went cold as everything came back to him, The Chimaera. Zeb! 

Kallus frantically searched for Zeb in the poorly lit cell. "Zeb?" He swallowed around the knot in his throat, an uneasiness grew when he got no response. The ex-agent tried to sit up to have a better look around the cell, he fell back onto the floor with a cry when a stab of pain came from his abdomen.

Kallus hated how close to tears he was, "Zeb!?"

A quiet moan cut through his worries, "Gghh… Kal?"

He awkwardly twisted his neck looking for the Lasat, spotting him a fair distance away from him. The ex-agent released a breath he didn't know he was holding, Kallus opened his mouth to express his relief when the cell door slid open. 

Several Death troopers marched into the cell and forcibly hoisted the prisoners onto their knees. The binders uncomfortably bit at his wrists making Kallus grunt through clenched teeth; he heard Zeb whine as he fought through the same treatment.

They were seated on their knees for what felt like hours, until the dull murmurings of the Death troopers quieted down once Thrawn walked into the room. The Grand Admiral looked upon the beaten and bloodied pair; his crimson eyes landed on the Lasat.

Zeb bared his fangs at the Chiss, earning the Lasat a strike on his head by one of the Death troopers holding him. Thrawn smiled at the response, "I see you still haven't lost your spirit. Even in your poor condition." 

"Leave him alone!" Kallus growled fighting the clutches of the Death troopers. Thrawn's eyes shifted to glower at the ex-agent, sending a shiver through Kallus. "Agent Kallus. Or would you prefer I address you as Fulcrum?"

Kallus found the strength to jerk away from the troopers holding onto him. He swung his bound fists at Thrawn, who simply stepped back to avoid the attack. The Chiss delivered a sharp kick to Kallus' bad leg, almost immediately dropping the ex-agent back on his knees. 

Kallus bit back a blood-curdling scream as his leg exploded in pain. He ignored the agony and blindly tried to attack Thrawn again. Instead the ex-agent lost contact with the ground momentarily when he was swept off his feet and slammed onto the durasteel floor. 

Kallus gasped for recycled air, coughing through his wheezy breaths. Thrawn's glare bore into the human, he resumed the conversation as if Kallus' attack never happened, "Your treason comes at a steep price as you must know. Heavy interrogation, torture, and execution," he looked back at the Lasat, a cruel smile forming. 

"Since it seems that this rebel will be useless due to his condition," the Grand Admiral snapped his fingers and the Death troopers' blasters aimed at Zeb. Kallus felt his heart stop, he struggled to get back up on his feet. His weakened body protested his every movement. 

"N–No!"

"I see no need to keep him alive."

"Please! Don't ki–"

"How unfortunate that your rebel heart led him to his demise. You truly live up to your moniker as the Butcher of Lasan."

Kallus' voice died in his throat. It was too late. Thrawn made up his mind and Zeb was going to die. And it was all his fault. 

"H-hey, Kal." Zeb's voice was barely more than a whisper, Kallus shakily looked up at the Lasat. An adoring grin emerged on Zeb's face, his fangs glistening despite the dim lights. "I love you."

Tears streamed down his face as the Lasat's words hit him. No. No. No. Nononono–

A sudden boom rattled the Chimaera , the Imperial soldiers stumbled as they tried to regain their footing. Thrawn's comm immediately went off, a muffled voice through the receiver yelled, "Grand Admiral Thrawn! It's the rebels!"

Thrawn frowned and ordered the Death troopers to stand down. They released their hold on Zeb, his body crumbled to the ground, a pained grunt escaped him.

"How fortunate. It seems that your rebels have come right to us."

The Chiss turned to leave, his loyal Death troopers trailing after him. The sound of boots faded away as the cell door slid closed. Kallus and Zeb were left in sudden silence, the weight of the near execution never disappeared despite the solace of the rebels' arrival.

Kallus wished he could move closer to Zeb, to pet the soft fur under his hands, to be able to feel the Lasat's heartbeat. It was such a close call; if the rebels had arrived a few seconds later–

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. "

Zeb croaked, "Shhh. It's okay, Kal. I'm–" 

"It's not okay, Zeb. I thought I was going to lose you." 

Kallus hiccupped, "I was going to lose you and it would have been my fault."

He tried to calm himself down, Kallus steadied his breath as he thought back to the confession Zeb gave him. Kallus felt his face turn red; he exhaled deeply, trying to express his thoughts in words. 

"Garazeb, did you really–"

He was interrupted by the cell door sliding open; two Stormtroopers entered the room, their liveliness a reflection of their true identities. They removed their helmets revealing the Ghost' s Jedi, a wave of relief engulfed Kallus. His breath shuddered, he felt his cheeks become wet again. Finally.  

Ezra flicked his wrist to reveal the keycard in-between his fingers. He swiftly approached the pair, letting the binders hiss open before throwing them. "Sorry it tooks us so long, we needed to set up the distra"– an explosion interrupted the young Jedi – "tions."

From thereon, everything became a blur to Kallus. Bits and pieces of the escape faded away as the ex-agent lost consciousness. 

When he reawakened, he found himself on the Ghost ; on route to Atollon. He shot up from the bed he was borrowing, hissing as his bruised body argued with the motion. Kallus barely noticed bandages wrapped around his injuries, preferring to look around the room. His brows furrowed, Where is...

Kallus limped out of the room and into the Ghost' s halls, wincing with every step he took. It was somewhat dark, but he still traversed through the ship. He found the Lasat in the Ghost' s makeshift medbay and the ex-agent let out a sigh of relief.  

Zeb was asleep on the only cot in the room, covered head to toe in bandages and bacta products. The steady beeping of a heart monitor provided a small comfort to Kallus, Lasats really don't know when to give up.

He grabbed a nearby chair, moving it closer to the bed, and clumsily sitting down. Kallus didn't touch the Lasat, no matter how much he wanted to, the memory of Zeb expecting to be hurt was seared into his mind. He sniffled as he tried to hold back his tears, that reaction had unnerved Kallus more than he expected. Once he would have reveled in that type of reaction from Zeb, but now… 

Kallus looked down at Zeb and gently smiled, "I love you, too."