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Kallus’s blood was red.
Bright red and pooling underneath Zeb, who’s fur was starting to stain, hands over the wound in Kallus’s abdomen. Kallus’s breath stuttered as Zeb put more pressure on it.
“Z-Zeb…” He coughed, “…Zeb.”
There was blood staining his teeth.
Zeb shushed him softly, the lump in the back of his throat making it hard to speak. All he could manage were soft mumbles in his native tongue that pleaded for Kallus to just stay awake.
Kallus tried to speak again, only to cough up more blood. He looked exhausted, chest wheezing with every rise and fall.
Hera and the Ghost needed to hurry up.
//Zeb! Zeb! \\
Zeb couldn’t risk releasing the pressure, hearing the communicator beeping in his pocket as Hera’s voice came through again.
//ETA, twenty minutes away! \\ She reported, //Zeb? Kallus, can you hear me? \\
Zeb was sure he felt his heart physically shatter.
He wasn’t even sure Kallus would survive another three.
They all knew the dangers of this job… knew them well.
Both had watched both friend and foe alike die, but they never thought it would happen to the other.
There was nothing more Zeb could do. If he tried to move his mate, the man would lose even more blood.
All he could do was watch.
The wheezing had quietened into small, gasping breaths, Kallus’s chest rising quickly and falling slowly. Zeb watched as Kallus’s eyes opened, the look of pure love making Zeb ache inside. Kallus opened his mouth and while no sound came out, he was able to mouth two words.
‘Love… you’
They had exchanged love confessions many times, but this one would be burned into Zeb’s memories for the rest of his life.
“I love you too.” He whispered tearfully.
Kallus’s hand came up to cup Zeb’s cheek, with Zeb’s hand desperately following it, holding it there as though the contact would be enough to keep Kallus alive.
Kallus’s hand fell limp in his and his head lolled back, and just like that, the light of Zeb’s life was gone.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, clutching the rapidly cooling body to his chest until the rest of the crew got there. Logically, he knew that it must have only been 20 minutes, but it felt like hours.
“Oh no.” He heard Hera whisper.
He felt someone take a hold of his shoulder, trying to pull him away. Zeb just continued to stare blankly at his prone lover.
“Give him something to knock him out.” Kanan whispered, “We can’t hang around here.”
Zeb didn’t fight it.
What was the point of fighting it?
……………………………………………………………………………….
Zeb woke in an unfamiliar bed.
It was cold… terribly so.
He was so used to waking up next to Kallus that this situation was unbearable to him.
“You’re awake.”
Zeb pushed himself up into a seated position, looking over at the doorway where Hera was standing. He was tempted to ask how long he’d been unconscious for before Hera was speaking again.
“How are you feeling?”
“He’s dead.” Zeb’s voice wavered, throat knotting up, “How am I meant to feel?”
“Zeb- “
“- I don’t know how to go on.”
Hera was silent for a moment, before she moved to take a seat on the edge of the bed. “He wouldn’t want you to think like that.” She whispered, “He’d want you to live…. Live for him. You know that.”
Zeb’s eyes burned as Hera leaned over to pull him into a hug, curling into her as best he could, taking whatever comfort he could.
He barely heard the rest of the crew enter the room.
“It’s all set up.” Kanan whispered, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Zeb could only nod, not trusting his voice at that moment.
The scene he walked onto to, was just like any other funeral Zeb had been to, and during the rule of the Empire, he had been to a lot of them.
Alexsandr lay on his pyre, looking completely serene, like he was just sleeping.
Zeb wanted to believe that he was just sleeping, but he knew better. He’d seen the life leave Kallus’s eyes, supported him through his last goodbyes.
People stood up and spoke, but Zeb couldn’t hear them over the blood rushing in his ears. He stared blankly at the pyre, eyes welling with unshed tears. He felt like his body wasn’t his own as the pyre was lit, going through the motions as people came up to him, whispering meaningless words of comfort to him, until they were all gone.
His chest started to burn.
The tears started to pour, and it was all he could do to keep breathing.
He felt to his knees and sobbed, yelled until his throat ached and his voice was hoarse, begging for Alexsandr to come back, to be with him.
He was broken, and there was nothing that could be done to put him back together.