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“Come on, come on, let’s go!” Kallus shouted, covering for the escaping refugees as they boarded the shuttle. Troopers were firing at them from the entrance of the mines. The Ghost crew had known there was no way of getting all of the wookiee prisoners off of Kessel, but they had decided to help the ones they could.
When Kallus had gotten wind of a planned escape within the mines, he had been sent in as a plant. He was to take the place of Lieutenant Kordolph, whom he had easily intercepted in high orbit. Stealing a ship was well within the knowledge base of an ex-ISB agent, so it was simple to dispose of the old Lieutenant and his crew, and step into his place. The only thing Kallus was not exactly thrilled about was having to shave. He supposed it was a small price to pay for the lives of so many prisoners, however, and the task came easier.
During the two weeks he was stationed on Kessel, Kallus saw more horrors than he had in a long time. Being in the rebellion full time had softened him, and he found it more difficult than he had anticipated to slip back into his cool Imperial persona. It was even harder when he spent all day watching prisoners abused, and beaten within an inch of their lives.
The only thing that got him through was his after-hours work with the wookiees. Unfortunately, he spoke very little of their language, but he was still able to help them develop their plan of escape within the dark communal bunks of the prisoners. With a majority of the wookiees able to understand basic, and his ability to understand handsigns mixed with his very fundamental understanding of Shyriiwook, Kallus was able to formulate a plan with them that he was confident with in just under a week.
Once he sent word to the ghost crew when the escape would be, all he had to do was wait.
The waiting had been the worst part of things. No matter how many times he reminded himself that he was doing good, he couldn’t stop the worry from creeping in. No matter how loyal he was to the rebellion, and no matter the good work he had done, Kallus always worried that his loyalty was fragile, and could be broken.
He knew this was irrational, but as the days went on, the worry stayed constant in the back of his head. Between worrying about the plan, and fearing the resurgence of his Imperial loyalty, Kallus did not sleep much those two weeks.
However, Kallus always tried to remind himself that he was in fact, a valued part of the rebellion. If he was not a trusted member of the rebellion, and if high command had been having any doubts about him whatsoever, he would not have been sent on this mission. He also reminded himself that his imperial loyalty could not come back, not after what he had seen. This was reinforced every time his stomach threatened to turn inside out at the treatment of the prisoners in the mines.
The empire did this. They kept these prisoners here, and were complacent about their treatment. About their torture.
It made Kallus sick.
That was all the reassurance he needed to believe that his fears were irrational. He held tight to the disgust he felt, reveling in these new feelings of morality. He found himself lying awake some nights, wishing he had been able to see the cruelty before. He brought himself to tears at the memories of his complacency, as well as his participation in such acts. Once again, the thoughts made him sick. Once again, that was a good thing.
The morning of the breakout, Kallus had been unable to stop his hands from shaking. He knew that there were thousands of lives in his hands. If he failed today, the lost lives, and the souls left behind, would weigh on his conscience until the day he died. That thought gave him confidence, however.
He now stood on the ramp of the ghost, firing towards the imperials intermixed with the wookiees fleeing the mines. There were two other cargo ships providing cover fire as the prisoners frantically boarded toward their freedom.
“Come on, let’s move!” Kallus shouted as he helped one of the prisoners up the side of the ramp. “We have to leave now!”
Kallus blasted two more troopers, watching them go down as more and more wookiees flooded the Ghost. A bittersweet emotion passed through his heart as he watched some of the prisoners go down, while so many others flooded the cargo bay of the ship.
Behind him, Kallus heard the twang of Zeb’s bo-rifle, picking off troopers one by one. Kallus grinned as he watched them go down. His partner’s aim never failed to amaze him. The empire really didn’t stand a chance now, not with Zeb in the fight.
Kallus spared a moment to look over his shoulder, spotting Zeb standing above the crowd on top of a cargo crate for better aim. The pair made eye contact for a moment, Zeb smiling and nodding at Kallus, seemingly incredibly relieved to see him alive. Kallus was inclined to agree. With the nature of their work, it was never a guarantee they would see each other again.
Of course, Kallus was always very delighted when they did see each other again, and would always fight to make sure that always happened.
While Kallus was turning back to continue covering the very last of the prisoners, he heard a blaster bolt buzz past his ear, the energy of the bolt causing his hair to stand on end. Not a moment later, a sharp pain shot through his side, causing him to involuntarily collapse into the pain, dropping his blaster off the side of the ramp in the process.
“Shit, Kallus!” He heard Zeb call from behind him.
Hissing with pain, Kallus held the wound with a trembling hand. He tried to steady his breathing as tears sprung to his eyes on their own accord. He noted the location of the worst of the pain. It likely wasn’t anything too bad, probably just hit skin and muscle.
With this information, Kallus stood, still slightly doubled over from the pain. In a moment, Zeb was directly next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and helping to guide him further into the Ghost’s cargo bay. He heard Zeb softly speaking to him, telling him that he was alright, and that he was going to be taken care of.
“I’m fine Zeb,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “It’s fine, it just grazed me.” He started pushing Zeb’s arm off his shoulders. “They need cover fire, I’m fine.”
Zeb’s arm didn’t budge as the lasat led him through the chaos to the ladder heading upstairs. “Nope, sorry Kal. I’m getting you to medical if you like it or not. Rex’s got this.” He gestured to the ladder. “Think you can climb this without hurting yourself worse?”
Kallus looked warily at the ladder for a moment before a wave of pain hit him. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he shook his head quickly. Damaging himself further would not be of any use to the rebellion. Maybe Zeb could go get some bacta, and apply it down here.
“Well alright then,” the lasat responded promptly before Kallus was swiftly being picked up. He made what he was sure was a very undignified squawk as he was settled into the crook of Zeb’s left arm. Hands still shaking, he wrapped both his arms tightly around Zeb’s neck almost involuntarily. “I got you Kal.”
Kallus barely had enough time to feel amazed at Zeb’s ability to climb the ladder while supporting a fully grown man in one of his arms before they were on the crew level, heading toward medical. The door slid closed behind them as Zeb sat Kallus down on the bench gently before retrieving the medical kit and kneeling in front of him.
“Alright, let’s get a look at the damage,” Zeb said quietly before reaching his hand toward the hem of Kallus’s shirt.
The panic that rose in his throat was almost more painful than the wound itself as Kallus grabbed Zeb’s wrists, holding his hands still. Zeb gave him a puzzled look for a moment, while Kallus adjusted uncomfortably on the bench.
“Can’t you just… put some bacta on it through the hole the blaster left in my shirt?” He felt stupid and childish asking. He was a grown man, after all. Zeb and him had done much more than simply be shirtless in each other’s vicinity. Zeb had certainly been shirtless in his vicinity. But Kallus hadn’t been ready. He had known that with that kind of vulnerability came explanations, and he desperately didn’t want to explain what Zeb was going to find under his shirt.
Quirking an eyebrow at his statement, Zeb rested his hands on Kallus’s thighs. “Look, Kal. I know you get weird about the shirt thing.” Zeb’s eyes dropped to the floor. Was he insecure about something? “And I know you feel weird bein’ undressed around me. It’s not like I haven’t noticed. But right now, you’re hurt, and I want to help you.”
Kallus felt his heart clench. Had it really bothered Zeb that much? Sure, Kallus had preferred to keep his top layer on whenever they were intimate, and pretty much all other times. But Kallus had never considered that it might bother Zeb. He had never brought it up like this before. Sure Kallus had his reasons for not ever wanting to take his shirt off, and there were reasons he wore so many layers around Yavin base, even though it was hot as hell. But he never really talked about it. And in his defense, Zeb had never asked.
Placing his hand gently under Zeb’s chin, Kallus lifted his diverted gaze to meet his eyes. In them, he saw insecurity. He saw worry. “Zeb honey. I never knew it bothered you this much.”
The lasat pursed his lips and paused a moment before responding. “I knew you would probably tell me in your own time. But it never really…” he hesitated for a moment. “I knew you weren’t doin’ it on purpose, but I couldn’t help but wonder why. Do you not… Trust me?”
Kallus felt his eyes widen. Oh no. That wasn’t what he was trying to do at all. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like that Zeb. I… I just.” He was having trouble putting his feelings into words. It was typical of him to do this. Zeb stayed quiet, giving him time to collect his thoughts. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to feel bad for me.”
Zeb nodded slowly, diverting his gaze. After taking a deep breath, he met Kallus’s eyes once more. “Do you trust me?”
The answer was immediate. “With my life.”
Kallus felt Zeb’s hands on the hem of his shirt once again. “Then let me help you. Please.”
Fighting his trembling hands as Zeb slowly pulled his shirt over his shoulders and head, Kallus was so filled with anxiety and dread that he hardly felt the blaster wound anymore. Zeb would see. Zeb would see that he was broken. See that he was disgraced. As the fabric passed over his face, Kallus closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. He wasn’t ready for what he would see when he opened them.
He heard Zeb’s small intake of breath as his torso was exposed. After taking one more steadying breath, Kallus opened his eyes.
Zeb’s face was one of pained surprise, which quickly shifted to understanding. Kallus watched as Zeb’s eyes darted across the scars littering his skin. He jumped a little when he felt the very tip of Zeb’s finger run along one of the angry, raised scars on his chest. Given the limited resources he had been able to procure on Onderon, the scars had healed poorly, and were now rough and raised enough to show through clothing. Kallus knew they looked dreadful and painful. And sometimes they were. But they were a part of Kallus that he had been given no choice but to accept. Zeb’s face shifted minutely again, this time showing the slightest bit of anger.
While Lasan may have been mostly destroyed, their legends still lived on in writings and in words passed from generation to generation. It was easy enough for a young Agent Kallus to get his hands on ancient Lasat writings of honor and shame, and he had known soon after the incident on Onderon what the scars left along his body would mean to any Lasat that would see them. He knew the mercenary had marked him as shameful. He had left scars along his torso, ripping along his pecs and stomach, to show the rest of the worlds that Kallus was a shameful man. The look on Zeb’s face was all he needed to know that Zeb understood the message on his skin.
“Onderon.” Zeb stated simply. He was still tracing the lines with the tip of his finger, careful to keep his claw from touching the man’s skin. His brows furrowed. Zeb looked utterly disgusted. Kallus could feel the panic rise up in his throat once again.
Grabbing his hands once again and turning away from the man on his knees in front of him, Kallus fought back tears. “If you find me so revolting, end things. We can be done. You can leave, I’ll patch this up myself,” he bit out, gesturing to the burnt skin on his side.
“Oh. Kallus, no.” He felt Zeb’s hand caress the side of his face, encouraging Kallus to meet his gaze once again. “I don’t find you revolting.” He looked like he was about to start crying too. “I just wish I could meet the bastard who did this to you. You didn’t deserve this. You were just a kid.”
Powerless against the tears welling up in his eyes, Kallus shook his head. “I deserved more than this, Garazeb, and you know it. We both know it. I don’t deserve what we have, and this just proves it. You shouldn’t stay with me.”
Zeb’s face was that of molten durasteel in his resolve. “You messed up. You were just following orders. But every day, you strive to be better. Don’t think I don’t see you workin’ your ass off on the base all the time Kallus. I know you. I know you better than anyone in this damn Galaxy. And I know that even if you don’t think you deserve what we have now, you are working towards it. And that’s all that matters.”
His vision swimming with tears, Kallus nodded. “Thank you Garazeb. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
Zeb chuckled in front of him. “I thought we just went over that.” Kallus sent him a teary half-smile. Grabbing both of Kallus’s hands in his, Zeb smiled lovingly. “Now how about we get this wound patched up?”
After a few moments preparing supplies, the pair felt the telltale signs of the Ghost jettisoning into the atmosphere. The bacta patch was cold and stung when it was applied. Kallus didn’t react. He had been through much worse. It didn’t take long for Zeb to be satisfied with his work, moving to sit on the bench next to his partner, pulling him into his side. Kallus leaned against the lasat, reveling in the warmth of his chest. He started just a bit when he felt Zeb’s hand running over his chest once again. Kallus looked up, noticing Zeb staring at the scars again.
“You know, these scars kinda look like stripes.”
Kallus chuckled. “Sure thing, Garazeb. I’m sure I look like a real warrior too, huh?” He asked sarcastically, knowing that the scarring meant the exact opposite in the man’s native traditions.
“Well, I think so. I like them on you. They look nice.”
Kallus closed his eyes, once again leaning most of his weight against the Lasat. “Well, I’m glad one of us likes them.” He could feel consciousness slipping away from him as the Ghost jumped to hyperspace, carrying them all to safety, and away from the horrors and abuse of Kessel.
Kallus felt Zeb press a kiss against his head as he drifted off.