The howling wind, the biting cold… It all nags at Zeb's memory as he fights off sleep. He's not where he's supposed to be, that much he knows. There's a subtle warmth at his chest, and a scent he wants to bathe in. It's familiar somehow, but different from before… Before? What was before? What's now?
Zeb opens his eyes. A pair of soft brown ones greet him.
Kallus. The moon. The crash.
Kallus. Staring at him with such…reverence, from mere inches away.
And suddenly Zeb remembers all the little looks Kallus had given him over the course of their night together. Pained looks, but not the pain of a broken leg. They were pained looks of guilt, pained looks of gratitude that somehow worked their way past the hatred Zeb feels for the man and lodged themselves in a place deep inside him that hasn't felt anything in a long time.
Now a look of pained adoration.
Zeb shivers, and not from the cold.
Kallus is shivering from the cold, though. They're on their sides curled around the meteorite, keeping its warmth boxed in. It throws a gentle golden light onto the imperial's fair, freckled skin. His lips are nearly blue.
Zeb thinks he can solve that problem very quickly. And then he realizes he wants to kiss him. Agent fucking Kallus. The imperial asshole who has sought to destroy everything he loves and has ever loved.
Terror grips every fiber of Zeb's being. This is slowly slipping out of his control.
Kallus has already peeled off his glove by the time Zeb notices he's reaching for his face. Frozen fingers brush through the hair along Zeb's jaw, trace the stripes on his cheek.
"You're beautiful," Kallus breathes.
So much for slowly slipping out of Zeb's control. Between those words, the hand stroking his face and those eyes shining at him brighter than the damn meteorite, Zeb finds himself paralyzed with want. That's what scares him the most. The want. It's something he can't control. Something he shouldn't have to.
"You're delirious," Zeb finally says back.
Kallus casts his eyes down. "Maybe," he mutters pitifully, and starts to pull his hand away. Before he can stop himself Zeb grabs the human's wrist, holds it, as he panics in his mind. He has to make a decision now. Yes or no.
The agent's eyes are on him again, penitent this time. More so than before, now that he has this to be sorry about. And this is the warrior of Chava's prophecy, who hunted them all the way into wild space?
The prophecy. The Boosahn Keeraw. Onderon. What is it about this human that keeps drawing him to Zeb's people? To Zeb himself? Who is this fragile person emerging from the imperial shell, the one he'd seen in every pained look he'd gotten throughout the night? And most importantly, why does Zeb feel so drawn to him?
Zeb needs these answers, for some bloody reason. It's too good an opportunity not to get them, so he puts Kallus' hand back where it was against his cheek. It immediately resumes its ministrations.
"How'd you know my name's Garazeb?"
Kallus gives a little nod, like he knows Zeb needs answers. With his hand still on Zeb's face, Kallus offers them up.
"After Lasan, every Honor Guard captain was accounted for except one. I've known your name for a long time. When I heard there was a rebel Lasat on Lothal I had to see for myself. I asked to be stationed there. I found you, I fought you and I knew you were Garazeb Orrelios."
"I'm the reason we got stuck with you?" Zeb asks incredulously. Then again, maybe it's not so incredulous after all.
"It wasn't hard to convince Governor Tarkin I could deal with whatever threat you posed. I brought my bo-rifle to that meeting to prove it. I may not have taken it as a trophy but I've done nothing to stop everyone else from thinking that. I used it to get to you."
Zeb feels Kallus' hand tremble against his cheek, and notices Kallus is no longer shivering.
"I'm not gonna pretend like you having it doesn't piss me off. But the guardsman wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't think you were worthy of it somehow. And he wouldn't have given it to you if you had anything to do with those disruptors."
"I was armed with one. Ordered to use it against any Lasat that stood in our way."
"Did you?" Zeb has to ask.
"I used it. I fought him with it, but I never fired it. I knocked the bo-rifle from his hands with it. I picked that up instead and…ran him through with it. Before he died, he told me to take it. He told me if I had any honor, I'd use the bo-rifle in battle instead of disruptors, or any other imperial killing machine. He said at least then I'd have to earn my kills like a real warrior, like I had with him."
"Is that why you use it? So you can feel like a real warrior?" Zeb doesn't exactly mean it as a taunt, and Kallus doesn't take it as one.
"I suppose so," the human admits with a sad sigh. "It's not like any other weapon. I can feel it. It feels alive. Especially in a fight."
This should surprise Zeb more than it does. A human forging that kind of connection with a Lasat bo-rifle is unheard of. But this isn't any human. The bo-rifle finds him a worthy wielder, and a bo-rifle is never wrong.
"Especially in a fight with you," Kallus adds, voice softer now. "And I nearly killed you with it."
"You probably would have if it wasn't for Ezra."
A flash of unbearable guilt and those brown eyes are gone again. Same with the hand. Kallus curls in on himself. "I'm sorry," he croaks pitifully. "I'm sorry for everything."
Zeb says nothing. What can he say? He can't say it's okay, because it's not okay. The apology brings Zeb none of the satisfaction he thought it would. In fact, he's sorry Kallus has to feel sorry. The reason for this is not yet clear to Zeb, so he forges on.
"The mercenary on Onderon, do you remember the weapon he used?"
When Kallus looks at him again, his eyes are distant. The warmth from before is replaced with the trauma of his past. But the man's past is not a monster Zeb can protect him from.
"Was it a bo-rifle?" he specifies. He needs to know.
Kallus frowns intently. Zeb can see that he's gone there in his mind, back to Onderon with the Lasat who killed his unit. The longer Kallus stays there, the more Zeb wants him back here with him.
So when Kallus finally says, "I don't know," Zeb doesn't push it.
"Was he the first Lasat you ever saw in person?"
"I saw the senator from Lasan and her delegation a few times, growing up on Coruscant."
A wave of relief sweeps over Zeb. Not only has the warmth returned to Kallus' eyes, he's just given Zeb something to poke fun at.
"Coruscanti, eh? No wonder you're such a dedicated imperial."
"I've always been a loyal soldier," Kallus counters, rather unconvincingly.
"Loyalty's meant to be earned. What's the empire done to earn yours?"
Kallus considers the question at length. After several seconds, the human shoots Zeb a look that's almost playful. A version of the look he got whenever Kallus had the opportunity to fight him. "Are you trying to recruit me?"
The thrill of their fight is different now. Their fight is different now. Zeb strikes back in kind. "Do I look like the guy they send to recruit people?"
"Whatever you're doing, it won't work."
"Whatever I'm doing, it's working a little."
Zeb huddles a little closer to Kallus for effect. And what an effect it has. The human's face turns from pale white to bright pink in a matter of seconds.
The want tears through Zeb again, uncontrollable. He wants that hand on him again, but he won't go so far as to take it. He wants it to be given. Now that they've come to a better understanding of each other, Zeb thinks he can get it.
"D'you really think they're gonna come for you?" he asks.
"I don't know."
"You're better off coming with me if you don't want to die on this frozen rock. We can drop you off at the nearest spaceport."
Kallus' eyes go wide. "You'd let me go? Just like that?"
"I would, yeah. Hera might have other ideas but I think she'll listen to me." There's no way in hell Hera would listen to him, but Kallus doesn't know that. "We all have to live with the choices we make. I can live with saving your life and sending you on your way. You have to live with whatever you choose to do."
Zeb's words sit with Kallus for a long time, and the Lasat gets nervous after a while. He can't tell what Kallus is thinking. And then he gets an answer he's not expecting.
"I can't leave this moon with you. I'm the reason you're here. I chased you here. I've been chasing you all this time. I can live with dying here."
He can see the notion clearly scares Kallus, and that's what gets Zeb the most. That he's willing to give up his one chance of survival in an attempt to atone, despite his fear of wasting away here, forgotten and alone.
Kallus' death is something that would've given Zeb immense satisfaction in the very recent past. But just like the apology, it holds nothing of the sort for him.
"Say someone finds you, whether it's the empire or smugglers passing through the system. You gonna go back to chasing me?"
"If I don't, someone else will. Someone else will anyway, but I… I may be able to slow them down."
Wait. What's happening here? Did he just hear what he thinks he heard? Did Kallus just offer to help the rebellion by hindering the empire? His empire? Zeb tries not to let on how shocked he is but knows he's doing a piss poor job of it.
"Thought you were a loyal soldier," he stammers.
Kallus' next words come without hesitation. "Loyalty's meant to be earned."
Is this even possible? Earning the loyalty of a man who mere hours ago was touting the might of the empire? That hand reaches for him again, but it's on his chest now, palm flat, fingers digging into his armor so hard he can feel it.
"You could've left me at the bottom of that cave to die," Kallus continues, voice cracking up. "You could've killed me yourself. You had every right to but you didn't."
"I could kill you right now if that'll take the edge off," Zeb says, half joking, half wanting to know how Kallus will respond.
"I won't fight back. No one would know."
Zeb gets the feeling Kallus isn't joking. "Not after all that work I did keeping you alive."
"And why did you? I never understood why the mercenary let me live or why the guardsman gave me his rifle. I need to know why you saved me."
Zeb's still not sure how to answer that question. The answer has been evolving of late, and he can barely keep up with it.
"Every life's worth something. Even yours," he offers.
"What's my life worth to you?" Kallus asks, desperate.
Zeb has to give him something. So he does, though he suspects it's not everything. "You have a history with my people. I couldn't let it end here. Not like this. I don't want to be the last Lasat you ever see."
A look of such wonder fills Kallus' face that Zeb thinks he might know about Lira San. But a much more immediate question begs to be asked.
"Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?"
"You think I'm…beautiful?"
Kallus' smile takes the breath right from Zeb's lungs, and the word 'beautiful' echoes in his mind. It's the first smile he's seen from the man that didn't come from the joy of battle. That place inside Zeb that had long been dormant has roared to new life thanks to soft looks, earnest confessions and the realization that he's very very attracted to certain humans all of a sudden.
"Yes," Kallus answers firmly. His hand wanders back up to Zeb's face. He strokes Zeb's cheek and brow like he's a precious artifact in danger of being broken. "You are the most magnificent being I've ever met."
If Zeb had any trouble believing that, the feel of those nimble fingers on him would have gotten him there. The smile slowly fades from Kallus' face.
"Maybe I knew you would be," the human says, troubled by this revelation.
"Is that why you followed me into the pod?"
"What if it is? What if I didn't give it a moment's thought?"
Kallus looks at Zeb like he could somehow have the answers to these questions.
As far as Zeb's concerned there are no answers to any of this. Not yet. Just more questions. They're figuring it out as they go. It might be messy and complicated but what Zeb feels right now is pretty damn straightforward. And he trusts himself. It's how he's survived for as long as he has.
He fixes Kallus with a grin of his own. "If you wanted to get me alone, you could'a just asked."
Kallus can't help but chuckle a little despite the pink rising to his cheeks. "Apparently chasing you across the galaxy is more my style."
"Well, you finally managed to catch me," Zeb says, scooting ever closer. "What're you gonna do with me?"
Kallus stares long and hard at Zeb before he finally murmurs, "I'm going to watch you run away from me again. This time I won't follow."
But Zeb wants Kallus to follow him. Not to chase him but to join him in the fight. Kallus' fight will be different, Zeb understands this. He just has to make sure it leads Kallus back to him.
Zeb rolls on top of the man, careful not to hurt his leg, and pins him to the ground. Wide brown eyes look up at him like he's the only thing in the universe that matters. It's those eyes that started it all. Sad eyes that invited Zeb inside to shake loose the imperial foundations of Kallus' life. Honest eyes that make Zeb believe this could be something. Something good, something important. Something rebellious.
So he kisses Kallus. The human's lips are smaller than what Zeb's used to, but so very needy against his own. In fact Kallus' whole body clings tight to Zeb, arms wrapping around him like he's been waiting for this, aching for it. He whimpers helplessly as Zeb kisses the empire right out of him.
When they pull apart they're both panting, breath coming in puffs from the cold air around them. Kallus' eyes are still closed and Zeb thinks for a moment he might have hurt him. When he opens them they're filled with tears. Tears of joy, Zeb assumes, by the way he smiles with kiss-swollen lips. It's a good look for Kallus. Zeb wants to kiss him again but restrains himself.
"Take that back to the empire with you," he rumbles. A momentary flash of dread in Kallus' eyes inspires a similar one in Zeb. What if this is where it stops? What if, for whatever reason, this is all he gets of this version of Kallus?
No. It can't be. This has come too far to end here.
"You will make it back," Zeb insists, just as much for himself as for Kallus.
Kallus' arms slacken from around Zeb and he's sad for their loss. That is, until a pair of hands grasps him on either side of his face, thumbs stroking over cheekbones. "And then what?" Kallus asks, voice barely even there.
Zeb can't tell Kallus what to do, as much as he'd like to. Whatever happens, he needs it to be Kallus' choice. Zeb knows Kallus is strong enough to choose the way Zeb wants him to choose. It's just a matter of whether Kallus knows it too. So he gives a little shrug and says, "That's up to you."
Kallus nods, and Zeb takes that as a good sign. "Will I see you again?"
The Lasat rolls back onto his side, taking Kallus with him. He gathers the human into his arms, breathes him in. There's that scent, the one he's been smelling since he woke up. It lulls him into a state of tranquility. "One way or another," Zeb answers, and he truly believes that.
"Thank you, Garazeb."
"You can call me Zeb, you know."
"That's what your friends call you. I feel I haven't earned the right."
"You have."
"My name is Alexsandr."
Zeb pulls the man tighter against his chest as sleep starts to pull him under. "Nice to meet you, Alexsandr."